Free Transcontinental by Brad Cook Page A

unknowable distance. The pitch black bedroom at Ms. Stacey’s foster home didn’t seem so bad as he thought back on it.
    “We may spend the ride in silence if you wish,” Ant strained as he climbed the grainer’s side ladder, “but my presence is not negotiable.”
    An adult imposing his will. What a surprise.
    At each end, the grainer slanted inward, with a platform jutting out from the base, creating a cubby in which Ant settled with a content smile.
    Leroy stood off to the side, pouting in disbelief of his situation. He was about to ride a moving vehicle on a tiny platform from which he could easily be jounced, for an unknown stretch of time, with an unintended companion.  
    “If you do not wish to remain in Boron, and I assure you that is the case, it would be wise to board.” He held out his hand to help Leroy up.
    All Leroy wanted was to find the one person who had ever truly cared about him. Now he was getting wrangled into a sidekick role.
    With a resonant sputter and a puff of coal-colored smoke, the train started.
    Leroy remained immobile.
    “Well, it is your choice.”
    For a moment Leroy thought he’d won, then Ant propped himself up and hopped down from the grainer. The procession of cars shook hard, then began to inch away. “Shall we join Cracker John back at the jungle?”
    His bluff had been called. He had to get on. The police could be looking for him right now, and he’d spent a day and a half going nearly nowhere.
    With each second, the walls of anxiety closed in. Maybe he could wait until the train was moving, then dash for it before Ant could react.
    As the train crept away from them, Leroy held his ground, and Ant did the same. Leroy stepped toward the train, and Ant followed. He stopped, and Ant stopped. They waited in stillness for a few seconds, then Ant brought his hands up to mime an invisible wall.
    “You ten years old?” Leroy snapped.
    “Are you?” Ant jeered, his voice barely audible over the racket the train was making as it picked up speed.
    Leroy watched in distress as it drifted away. “Just lemme go! Please!”
    “I can not.” The silliness faded from Ant’s face, giving way to rock-hard resignation, his eyebrows arched. He focused his solemn gaze on Leroy.
    “This is our ride,” Ant yelled. “Are we going or not?”
    A silent moment passed for Leroy amid the noise. Then, he sprinted after the train, his sneakers crunching and grinding the ballast beneath, until he caught up. He leapt and clutched the side ladder, then mounted the rungs and pulled himself atop the platform. As he settled back, breathing heavily, he turned to his left to find Ant wearing that million dollar grin, legs extended and hanging off the edge of the platform.
    “So, where to?”
    * * *
    It was twenty minutes into the ride, and Ant had talked through all of them.
    Despite his vow of silence, he spoke of many things: the types of train cars best suited for riding, the gorgeous landscapes along the Pacific Northwest, the characters he’d encountered. He spoke at length about the people, places, and things in his life, but never of himself.  
    It was just as well with Leroy, who hadn’t wanted to talk about anything to anyone. He leaned on his closed fist, apathetic on the outside, but seething inside. Every word Ant spoke was a reminder that he’d breached a barrier, invaded Leroy’s personal space. He had no right to tag along. Leroy bristled. This was the future of his life, not some whimsical adventure to entertain a jaded middle-aged man.
    How silly he’d been to believe Ant’s little speech about not calling him ‘sir,’ to think that he was any different. When it came down to it, how to refer to him was irrelevant; he was an adult, same as the rest of them. All he wanted was to control Leroy, and that was exactly what Leroy sought to avoid.
    Leroy gripped the ladder, transfixed by the passing low-income housing, smoldering from Ant’s ramblings.
    It wasn’t all bad, though. In