Rodney-Winston Page #2

• Short story
• Fiction

								

“For you,” he managed to get out. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He looked at him with his deep, dilated cat eyes, and with his pale short nose and moderate facial stubble. He blinked fast just a couple of times. Mischa, whose mouth was open just a bit, took a short exhale. He didn’t nod or shake his head. All he said was,
“Thanks.” 

The first hour of the journey was typical, to say the least. They talked some, but focused purely on making the machine move with some rotted, mossy tree limbs they found. When they heard the first whistle of the far off train, they all got off and Abess picked up and dragged the mechanism and they sat on the grass waiting for it to pass by. Then they kept going on and on until the next whistle was heard after 10:27. Then, when they were sitting in the grass, Freyra noticed something. 
It was a young cherry tree next to a small pond. It was not muddy, like all the ones back home, but it was clean and it was the clearest of blues. There were so many dragonflies in the grass and on the surface of the pond; too many to count. They all got up and started to run and horseplay around the area. 
Abess took out the slingshot and the firecrackers from Freyra’s bag. She loaded one in and started to shoot them at the dragonflies on this musty log. It hit and quickly combusted the sentinel like bugs in a panic. They looked like a crystal mine cave explosion. The kids cheered as Freyra and Rodney-Winston scooted in for a turn. Mischa just smiled. The three of them ran around in an exuberant hurry, laughing like there was no pain.
Mischa just sat by the pond. He took his shirt off and felt the warmth of the sun on his back. He watched and counted the bugs as they zipped across the surface of the blinding, blue pond. And as this hour proceeded, all of them individually thought that life could never be this way at home.

After a fallen asleep night of stargazing in the quarry, the sun arose and they all packed up. They couldn’t have been that far from home as they spent hours like seconds at the pond. During the night, Mischa heard three train whistles. He will have to write that down. They all got onto the transport and headed off. The first hour was an ordinary one. Some talking, some singing, but for the most part: silent. They all heard a train whistle and stood up off their ride. Abess picked it up, and Mischa and Freyra all got off with her. 
Rodney-Winston stayed. He stared down the train before him. He tugged on his favorite sweater, the one he was wearing. Too big for him, and an ugly orange. Sure, it was his only sweater, but that wasn’t why it was his favorite. His cat-like eyes changed like a mood ring. They went from a boyish need to know if he could jump it to a realization that he didn’t want to. You could barely see the scar run through his eyebrow making a cut through the hair. He blinked fast a few times in a row. Almost like he couldn’t hear their yells and screams. And like that, he took a short inhale. It was 8:26. A long way from when the train first departed.
The train did not stop for Rodney-Winston. It couldn’t; even if it could, it wouldn’t want to be late. And for the first time, and he never thought he would, Mischa hoped it would be late. 
The three sat. For 30 minutes, they did. They sat and thought. Abess looked at her watch and her head slumped down where her mouth was slightly resting on it. 
“Come on,” she said meekly, “if we don’t leave now, we’ll get home after nightfall.”
They all stood up at the same time. Careful not to say anything. They all took a few steps before regaining their balance. They didn’t take the transport home; they walked and they left it there. Their legs ached. It only took a few hours. On the way back, they didn’t speak, they didn’t sing; they were silent. 
No one noticed they were gone. It was just a day in late July. No one noticed they left, no one noticed they came back. And if no one noticed that, then no one noticed that they left with four and came back with three. They all knew no one but them would notice Rodney-Winston was gone. No one noticed when he was there. 

It was exactly 11:00 at night. Mischa’s point to go to bed was sullied. He was welcomed by his parents arguing screams which echoed through the house.  He was lying atop his made bed and in his day clothes from the journey. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a peppermint. And as the fireworks played in the back of his mind, he put it in his mouth. He was engulfed by the whirl of flavor. Basic but unknown. Uncharted. And as he did this he thought of Rodney-Winston and how this statement was true above all others: “Nothing at home could happen on the railroad tracks.”
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