Restoring Harmony Part 3

Jane jumped up and hobbled towards the door, still holding my fiddle. Her long white hair hung loose to her waist, floating behind like cobwebs. I kicked at what I thought was the release mechanism on the wheelchair, but I couldn't get it folded up.

"Leave the chair!" the conductor shouted as he helped Jane aboard.

"I can't!" I said. "It belongs to that man in the plaid suit."

"No it doesn't," he yelled. "It belongs to the station!"

The train began to move slowly away.

"Come on," Jane shouted.

I couldn't believe it. That man had tricked me out of my money! Jane was still holding Jewels, and I abandoned the chair and limped painfully alongside the train, my backpack thumping against me. It was picking up speed, nearing the end of the platform. I made a last-ditch leap onto the train step and fire shot through my feet all the way up my legs. Jane and the conductor pulled me aboard just as my knees gave out.

The conductor was really annoyed when I told him about the plaid man and my money, and he helped me search the car. The man must've ducked into a washroom and changed his clothes, though, because we never did find him, and you couldn't exactly miss that jacket. His wife had mysteriously moved to a different seat too.

"Sorry," said the conductor, rubbing his temples. "Just one of those things. I have to get back to work now."

"Okay . . . thanks."

He left me standing in the corridor of the train. What was going to happen to me now? I had messed up this whole trip. I'd gotten Tyler into trouble, and maybe Poppy too. No one had stamped my pa.s.sport, so I probably could get arrested any second if someone asked to see it. I had trusted a stranger with all my money and been robbed. What if I got to Gresham and couldn't find my grandpa? What if not only had my grandma pa.s.sed away from the stroke, but my grandpa had died of grief? Old people did that. Especially ones who had been married for a long time.

As far as I could see, I only had one choice. Dad had made me bring the Solar Fone for emergencies, but it was so old and the battery so decrepit that it only held a charge that lasted about thirty seconds. There was no guarantee it would recharge again, either. Each time seemed like the last. He said to use it if I had to, but I'd really only brought it for one reason: to call when I arrived and let my family know about my grandparents. Instead, I was going to have to use it now to call Dad and admit how stupid I'd been.

"There you are," Jane said, coming into the corridor.

I rubbed my eyes like I was just tired, so she wouldn't notice the tears.

"Come here. I have a surprise for you." I followed her back, and everyone turned in their seats to look at me and smile. "We took up a collection," Jane said, handing me a wad of bills.

"Oh, no . . . ," I told everyone. "I can't-"

"You were the one playing the violin in the bathroom, right?" a bald man asked me.

"Fiddle. Yeah, that was me." I could feel the blush creep up my face. Had they heard me even out in the waiting room? Probably. Fiddles were loud!

"Well, open up your case, then, and play us a waltz. If you can't take the money, you might as well earn it."

"You don't think I'll get in trouble, do you?" I asked.

He said, "We'll protect you. Just play!"

I'd never performed for money before, but the idea was a lot more appealing than charity.

"Okay," I said when I finally got Jewels somewhat in tune. "Here's the 'Peekaboo Waltz.' "

The train lurched, and I braced myself against the arm of one of the seats. With the first slide of my bow across the string, my body relaxed into the music. I closed my eyes and leaned into the sway, the notes ringing throughout the train car.

One, two, three, one, two, three. . . . In my mind I saw my friends and family waltzing in the community hall, couples whirling, bodies close, smiles and dreamy expressions across their faces. Up and down went my bow, smooth as silk, even with the movement of the train. In fact, it was as if the music and the train melded together. In my mind I saw my friends and family waltzing in the community hall, couples whirling, bodies close, smiles and dreamy expressions across their faces. Up and down went my bow, smooth as silk, even with the movement of the train. In fact, it was as if the music and the train melded together.

I drew out the last note, long and clear, and everyone clapped, snapping me back to reality. "How about a little 'Whiskey Before Breakfast'?" I asked.

When they all cheered, I looked up at my audience for the first time. Across the aisle was a young, rosy-cheeked mother with a toddler whose hands she was holding while he tried to stand on the seat. And an older couple sat up front. They looked exactly like their s.h.a.ggy gray lapdog, which the man held in his arms. Behind them, crowding into the aisle and even kneeling on seats to get a better view of me, were men and women, dusty with travel. Worry lines creased their foreheads even though they were smiling, and they all looked hot and tired.

I dove into the tune with quick, short strokes, my fingers flying. Some people started clapping along and despite my sore feet, I couldn't keep my toes from tapping with the rhythm. One tune flew off my bow after another, and I was starting to think that if we had room, we'd have a full-fledged dance right here.

I played for almost an hour while the train moved along at a pace that my dog, Black Bart, could've outrun. After a while, my audience had that sort of glazed look that people get from too much fiddle and I knew they'd heard enough. Fiddle music is like that, so I packed up Jewels and sat down with Jane. Only diehards like me and my dad can listen to it endlessly.

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, the train stopped for almost three hours without explanation, and then it started up again. Jane had a deck of cards, and she taught me to play rummy. She tried to help me, but it was hopeless, and I lost every hand.

Just before noon, the train pulled into Jane's hometown of Kelso and the conductor came through the car and told us we'd be there for two hours, so we should get off and enjoy the suns.h.i.+ne.

"If I lived a little closer, you could come to my house and we could find you some shoes," Jane said, "but I think you should wait here in case the train leaves early."

"Oh, yeah. I'm staying right here," I said, sitting down under a leafy dogwood tree.

Jane gave me a hug good-bye, and I tried not to cry. My dad told me that one of his favorite things about travel had been meeting new people, but I hadn't really understood until now.

"If you need a place to stay, or a meal on your way back, stop by," she said. "I'd be happy to see you anytime, dear. Good luck with your grandpa." She handed me her address on a sc.r.a.p of paper, and I hugged her again. I watched her hobble off until the crowd swallowed her up.

Jane had given me a pair of purple knitted slippers from her small shoulder bag. I used a little of my water to clean my feet off and then I put them on. The soft wool cus.h.i.+oned my sore feet, but they were really warm on a summer day.

Just over two hours later, the conductor called "All aboard," and the rest of the southbound travelers got back on. Around four thirty, I saw a bridge ahead of us and I just about lost it. No one said we were going to have to cross a bridge! They'd been falling down all over the world ever since the Collapse, when tax money to repair them had dried up. Before I could find a conductor to ask if this really was a stable bridge, the train groaned across it and below us a wide green river snaked on its way.

I clamped my eyes tight, and I swear I held my breath all the way across. I'd seen a bridge in Victoria, but I'd never, ever been on one. All I could think about was it cracking under our weight, sending us plunging down into icy water. When we crept over a second, equally shaky bridge, I thought for sure I was going to faint, but then we were on solid ground again and after a few minutes, the train slowed and stopped.

"Portland, Oregon!" called the conductor. "This is Portland, Oregon!"

7.

EVERYONE STREAMED THROUGH THE MUSTY STATION, out big doors into the early evening heat, and walked away in one direction. I limped after them because Dad had said that I needed to take the electric train called MAX and most people would probably be going that way. I had to ride it to Gresham, Oregon, a city about twenty-five kilometers away.

"It's really just a suburb of Portland," Dad had said. "You won't be able to tell when you cross from one into the other. Should be pretty easy."

He'd run his hand through his hair then, tugging at it. When he was worried, his curly hair stood up like a clown's wig from doing that, but I pretended not to notice he was nervous about me making this trip. Even though I'd been scared at the time, I'd liked being the chosen one for a change, instead of just James's and Katie's little sister. Now I wasn't so sure.

This part of the city looked a lot like the deserted bit of Seattle. Buildings had big condemned signs posted on them, and colorful graffiti decorated everything. I saw the rosy-cheeked woman with the toddler pus.h.i.+ng a stroller, and I hurried after her.

"Is this the way to the MAX train?" I asked.

She smiled. "Yep. We're going that way too."

"I need to get to Gresham."

"MAX will take you there. Hopefully a lot faster than that stupid train from Seattle. I catch the one going the other direction, but I'll show you."

"Thanks."

The MAX station turned out to be just a narrow road paved with crumbling red bricks, and two tracks. People crowded together on both sides of the street, huddling in the shade of the buildings. Rivulets of sweat trickled down my spine under my backpack. I had a feeling my hair looked like my mom's after she'd cooked a big meal. Humidity in the kitchen made her long, frizzy hair bush out even worse than my dad's clown hair.

"You catch your train across the street," the woman said. "Good luck. And we really loved your music."

"Thanks."

My dad had told me to buy a ticket from one of the machines before I boarded. I saw a big dispenser with cracked red b.u.t.tons and a little screen. The entire thing was covered with graffiti. There was a spot to put money in, but a strip of metal had been screwed over the top of it so you couldn't use it.

A guy with sandy hair and a sunburned nose stood leaning against the machine, watching me. I pushed a b.u.t.ton just to see if maybe the screen would light up, but nothing happened.

"Those machines haven't worked since the Collapse," he said.

"Oh."

"The MAX is free for anyone who lives in the county. It's a social service," he explained. "You just apply for a pa.s.s and they send you one every month in the mail.

"How do visitors pay?"

"You buy a pa.s.s at Pioneer Square."

I was totally confused now. "In Seattle?"

"No. Downtown."

"Oh." Did every city in the U.S. have a Pioneer Square? "Can I walk there?"

"Sure. It's not far, but it's kind of confusing. I'll take you there if you want," he said, smiling.

He looked normal enough. He was clean and wore shorts and a T-s.h.i.+rt, and I didn't think his pockets were big enough to hide a gun, but he could have a knife. I was done trusting strangers. Getting burned once today was enough.

"That's all right," I said. "I can find it. Just tell me where it's at."

He studied me for a second, then shrugged and started giving me directions.

"Stop," I said after about fifteen seconds. "You were right. I'm already lost. Are you sure you don't mind taking me there?"

He laughed. "No problem."

We walked down the street, under a bridge where more people waited at another stop, and then turned right and headed up towards the heart of the city. I studied the guy out of my peripheral vision. He was definitely older than me, but not by much. Maybe early twenties.

Everything about him was average, from his sun-bleached hair to the light sprinkle of freckles across his nose. He had an athletic build, strong and lean, tall enough, but not too tall. He was wearing shorts, and his tanned calves were thick and hard with muscles, which probably meant that he rode a bike. I liked the way he looked, and it made me want to explain my own disheveled appearance.

"I lost my shoes," I said.

"I noticed."

"I was barefoot and my feet were bleeding and someone gave me these slippers. I'd take them off but the pavement's really hot."

He smiled.

"Normally I don't wear slippers outside. Or at all, really. I mean, in the winter I do because it's cold. But not in the summer. It's just that I-"

"Lost your shoes. I know," he said.

"Do you think there's anyplace to buy a used pair?" I asked him.

"Mmm . . . Maybe tomorrow. I think all the shops are probably closed by now."

"Oh."

We walked in silence for a few blocks while I tried to think of something else to say. Finally I burst out, "I'm from British Columbia." I said it like it was some amazing feat, like I'd come from the moon or crossed a desert. "I'm here to get my grandpa and take him back home with me."

"I've been thinking of moving up to Canada myself," he said.

"You mean to live?" I asked.

"Sure."

"I don't think you can. Unless you have relatives up there. Do you?"

"Nope," he said.

"I don't think they'll let you in, then, except to visit."

"Yeah . . . well, I know people who know people. They'd help me get in."

"Unless they're family-"

He smiled. "They'd have to catch me crossing the border."

"What do you mean?"

He leaned towards me a little and said quietly, almost as if he thought the brick buildings could hear him, "There are ways to sneak in, you know? Boats go places where they don't expect you to cross. Or I could probably get through the Rockies. Or I could just go for a visit and stay the rest of my life."

"Oh."

I wondered if a lot of people were sneaking into my country. With just a little help and a bribe, it really hadn't been that hard for me to sneak into the U.S., so it probably went both ways.

"This is a nice city," I said. "My dad thought it might be really run-down."

"Portland's built on two rivers, which helps with transportation of goods," he said. "So there are still some jobs."

We walked down a tree-lined street with sidewalks made of brick until we came to a large plaza. I saw more MAX tracks on either side of the square and big crowds of people waiting for the trains.