desperate to sound positive. “It’ll do us for food—a couple of Maccy Ds each.”
“What about for a hotel tonight?” Kenny was morose.
“Do you really think there’s going to be a hotel at Ross? You saw the map—that spot the size of gnat crap?”
“But—”
“And who needs a hotel anyway? It’s summer out there, isn’t it? Haven’t you heard of sleeping out under the stars?” I was laying it on thick. “This is an
adventure
, right?”
Kenny perked up enough to insult me. “We could always use your pants as a tent.”
“Yeah, and burn your radioactive T-shirt to keep us warm.”
Sim said: “What about his ticket?”
They both looked at me, both eager for me to make everything all right again. This was my idea, after all. “Maybe we can get away with it,” I said. “We only need to get as far as Newcastle on this train, right? We might have enough for a ticket from Newcastle to Dumfries. The closer we get, the cheaper a ticket’s going to be.”
“But we’ve got to get to Newcastle first,” Kenny said.
“Just keep your head down, pretend to be asleep or something,” Sim told him. “Hide in the bogs if you have to.”
Kenny wasn’t happy. “What’ll happen if I get caught?”
“I’m sure they’ll stop the train before they throw you off,” I said.
We went looking for seats.
The train charged through the countryside, fields and trees speeding by the windows. It was busy but not packed. We weren’t worried about being recognized now, had no fear of bumping into anyone we knew. There were families with young kids, students sitting by themselves and backpackers in twos or threes. Most of them wore their “travel face”—kind of blank, a bit bored, mostly tuned out.
We made our way through two, then three separate carriages hoping to find a free table where the three of us could sit like before. But without any luck. It was when we reached the carriage where the conductor was checking tickets that we panicked, spun around and stumbled over each other inour hurry to get back the way we’d come. And we ended up exactly where we’d started.
Kenny was so worried he bounced. “So, you know … So, what do we do? I might as well get off at the next stop, right?”
“Don’t chicken out on us now,” I said.
“But I’m the one who’s going to get kicked off. Not you.”
I looked at Sim. “What do you call a load of chickens?”
“Brood,” he said. “Or peep. Some people call it a peep.”
“Don’t ‘peep’ out on us, Kenny,” I said. “It’s all part of the adventure, right?” I was worried he might give up and go home, and I believed this trip was meant to be all three of us. I felt sure Ross would have wanted all three of us together.
Kenny was a long way from happy. He didn’t like me picking on him, and liked being labeled a whole bunch of chickens even less.
Sim was wearing his sunglasses again, keeping his cool. “You’ll just have to hide in the bogs.”
“But what if I get caught? They might get the police—it’s against the law, right? I’m telling you: someone’s bound to tell my mum.”
“So don’t get caught.”
“Great. Thanks. That’s easy enough for you to say, isn’t it?”
“So what am I supposed to say? You weren’t worried about the law last night when we sprayed up Fowler’s house and Munro’s car.”
“Yes I was. I was the one who said we—”
“And you’re the one who’s lost his ticket, so stop whining.”
Kenny scowled and turned as though he was going to stomp away. But maybe he remembered there wasn’t really anywhere to stomp away to. Instead, he sagged.
“Why’s it always happen to me? It’s true, isn’t it? It’s always me stuff like this happens to. Why am I always getting the crappy end of the stick?”
Sim didn’t like Kenny’s sudden self-pity. “Get over it.”
“Yeah, thanks. Thanks for that. You’re a great friend, you are.” He saw Sim was about to bite back so got in there
“What about for a hotel tonight?” Kenny was morose.
“Do you really think there’s going to be a hotel at Ross? You saw the map—that spot the size of gnat crap?”
“But—”
“And who needs a hotel anyway? It’s summer out there, isn’t it? Haven’t you heard of sleeping out under the stars?” I was laying it on thick. “This is an
adventure
, right?”
Kenny perked up enough to insult me. “We could always use your pants as a tent.”
“Yeah, and burn your radioactive T-shirt to keep us warm.”
Sim said: “What about his ticket?”
They both looked at me, both eager for me to make everything all right again. This was my idea, after all. “Maybe we can get away with it,” I said. “We only need to get as far as Newcastle on this train, right? We might have enough for a ticket from Newcastle to Dumfries. The closer we get, the cheaper a ticket’s going to be.”
“But we’ve got to get to Newcastle first,” Kenny said.
“Just keep your head down, pretend to be asleep or something,” Sim told him. “Hide in the bogs if you have to.”
Kenny wasn’t happy. “What’ll happen if I get caught?”
“I’m sure they’ll stop the train before they throw you off,” I said.
We went looking for seats.
The train charged through the countryside, fields and trees speeding by the windows. It was busy but not packed. We weren’t worried about being recognized now, had no fear of bumping into anyone we knew. There were families with young kids, students sitting by themselves and backpackers in twos or threes. Most of them wore their “travel face”—kind of blank, a bit bored, mostly tuned out.
We made our way through two, then three separate carriages hoping to find a free table where the three of us could sit like before. But without any luck. It was when we reached the carriage where the conductor was checking tickets that we panicked, spun around and stumbled over each other inour hurry to get back the way we’d come. And we ended up exactly where we’d started.
Kenny was so worried he bounced. “So, you know … So, what do we do? I might as well get off at the next stop, right?”
“Don’t chicken out on us now,” I said.
“But I’m the one who’s going to get kicked off. Not you.”
I looked at Sim. “What do you call a load of chickens?”
“Brood,” he said. “Or peep. Some people call it a peep.”
“Don’t ‘peep’ out on us, Kenny,” I said. “It’s all part of the adventure, right?” I was worried he might give up and go home, and I believed this trip was meant to be all three of us. I felt sure Ross would have wanted all three of us together.
Kenny was a long way from happy. He didn’t like me picking on him, and liked being labeled a whole bunch of chickens even less.
Sim was wearing his sunglasses again, keeping his cool. “You’ll just have to hide in the bogs.”
“But what if I get caught? They might get the police—it’s against the law, right? I’m telling you: someone’s bound to tell my mum.”
“So don’t get caught.”
“Great. Thanks. That’s easy enough for you to say, isn’t it?”
“So what am I supposed to say? You weren’t worried about the law last night when we sprayed up Fowler’s house and Munro’s car.”
“Yes I was. I was the one who said we—”
“And you’re the one who’s lost his ticket, so stop whining.”
Kenny scowled and turned as though he was going to stomp away. But maybe he remembered there wasn’t really anywhere to stomp away to. Instead, he sagged.
“Why’s it always happen to me? It’s true, isn’t it? It’s always me stuff like this happens to. Why am I always getting the crappy end of the stick?”
Sim didn’t like Kenny’s sudden self-pity. “Get over it.”
“Yeah, thanks. Thanks for that. You’re a great friend, you are.” He saw Sim was about to bite back so got in there
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