floor behind him and shrugged into it.
"Just a little cold," he murmured, sliding an amused look Lila's way. "Relax."
Lila ignored him. Her attention was on the backseat. "You have another guitar?" she asked, incredulous. It was nestled by the back passenger seat, in a case on the floor. Lila was surprised the guitar didn't have a blanket wrapped around it, the way he usual y babied his instruments.
"It's my backup," he said.
"You have a backup guitar, which you keep in your car," she said. She laughed. "Wow. So you're, like, a traveling minstrel or something?"
69
Beau threw her another unreadable look as the light changed from red to green. She braced herself for one of his zingers.
"You never know when you might need a guitar," he said, in such a matter-of-fact way that Lila bit back her next sarcastic comment. What did she know? Maybe in Beau's world, he was often cal ed upon to leap out of his Ford Escort and serenade people with his music.
She was trying to keep from snickering at that mental image when Beau pul ed into the Simi Val ey train station parking lot. The station looked identical to the last one, and Lila had a strange and unpleasant sense of déjà vu. She snuck a quick peek at her watch: Four seventeen. The train left the station at four twenty-one.
Beau pul ed the car into a parking space. Before he'd even opened his door, Lila was out of the car. Her feet flew over the crumbling cement parking
lot, and she was aware of Beau's breathing right behind her.
"Which track do you think it's coming in on?" Beau cal ed.
Lila felt like they were on The Amazing Race as she shouted back that they'd figure that out inside. She hurled open the surprisingly heavy station doors, narrowly missing a set of suitcases on the floor.
"Come on." Beau grabbed her hand and guided her out to platform three.
They stumbled out into the late-afternoon sunlight. There
70
was the train, right on the tracks. But it was on its way out of the station. The back window seemed to laugh at them as it disappeared down the track.
Lila watched the flash of silver until the train became a smal er and smal er point in the distance. She slumped against one of the cement platform
columns, letting her hair fal down and cover her face.
"This sucks," Beau muttered, his eyes stil on what was left of the train.
"I guess we have to keep going," Lila sighed, feeling angry and defeated. Again. But there was no time to spare. She straightened, shoved her hair off her face, and pul ed the crumpled train schedule from her jeans pocket. "Next stop, Oxnard," she read. "Let's gun it."
"Hold on." Beau pul ed his iPhone from his pocket.
"We can't hold on," Lila argued. "We have to hurry!"
"We're not going to catch a train," Beau said, looking up from his phone briefly, the screen reflecting blue on his face. "We can't chase it from station to station--trains are faster than cars, and they don't have to stop."
"So, what?" Lila asked, ignoring the patronizing tone of his statement. She slumped back against the column, annoyed. "What are we supposed to do?
"
Beau plucked the schedule from her hand. He frowned at it, then fiddled with his phone, quickly tapping around on the
71
screen. Lila waited as patiently as she could, trying not to bite her nails. Or launch into a screaming fit that would be anything but productive. Though it might make her feel better.
"The train takes seven hours to get up to Oakland," Beau said final y. "But we can drive up the I-5 and be there in like six hours. Five or five and a half, maybe, depending on traffic." He slipped the phone back into his pocket and cocked his head slightly as he looked at her. His shaggy dark hair fel over to one side. "Makes more sense than trying to catch the train at every station, don't you think?"
"Sounds great," Lila said absently. Because what sounded even better was the plan she was quickly outlining in her head. Oakland wasn't too far away from Stanford. After she captured
"Just a little cold," he murmured, sliding an amused look Lila's way. "Relax."
Lila ignored him. Her attention was on the backseat. "You have another guitar?" she asked, incredulous. It was nestled by the back passenger seat, in a case on the floor. Lila was surprised the guitar didn't have a blanket wrapped around it, the way he usual y babied his instruments.
"It's my backup," he said.
"You have a backup guitar, which you keep in your car," she said. She laughed. "Wow. So you're, like, a traveling minstrel or something?"
69
Beau threw her another unreadable look as the light changed from red to green. She braced herself for one of his zingers.
"You never know when you might need a guitar," he said, in such a matter-of-fact way that Lila bit back her next sarcastic comment. What did she know? Maybe in Beau's world, he was often cal ed upon to leap out of his Ford Escort and serenade people with his music.
She was trying to keep from snickering at that mental image when Beau pul ed into the Simi Val ey train station parking lot. The station looked identical to the last one, and Lila had a strange and unpleasant sense of déjà vu. She snuck a quick peek at her watch: Four seventeen. The train left the station at four twenty-one.
Beau pul ed the car into a parking space. Before he'd even opened his door, Lila was out of the car. Her feet flew over the crumbling cement parking
lot, and she was aware of Beau's breathing right behind her.
"Which track do you think it's coming in on?" Beau cal ed.
Lila felt like they were on The Amazing Race as she shouted back that they'd figure that out inside. She hurled open the surprisingly heavy station doors, narrowly missing a set of suitcases on the floor.
"Come on." Beau grabbed her hand and guided her out to platform three.
They stumbled out into the late-afternoon sunlight. There
70
was the train, right on the tracks. But it was on its way out of the station. The back window seemed to laugh at them as it disappeared down the track.
Lila watched the flash of silver until the train became a smal er and smal er point in the distance. She slumped against one of the cement platform
columns, letting her hair fal down and cover her face.
"This sucks," Beau muttered, his eyes stil on what was left of the train.
"I guess we have to keep going," Lila sighed, feeling angry and defeated. Again. But there was no time to spare. She straightened, shoved her hair off her face, and pul ed the crumpled train schedule from her jeans pocket. "Next stop, Oxnard," she read. "Let's gun it."
"Hold on." Beau pul ed his iPhone from his pocket.
"We can't hold on," Lila argued. "We have to hurry!"
"We're not going to catch a train," Beau said, looking up from his phone briefly, the screen reflecting blue on his face. "We can't chase it from station to station--trains are faster than cars, and they don't have to stop."
"So, what?" Lila asked, ignoring the patronizing tone of his statement. She slumped back against the column, annoyed. "What are we supposed to do?
"
Beau plucked the schedule from her hand. He frowned at it, then fiddled with his phone, quickly tapping around on the
71
screen. Lila waited as patiently as she could, trying not to bite her nails. Or launch into a screaming fit that would be anything but productive. Though it might make her feel better.
"The train takes seven hours to get up to Oakland," Beau said final y. "But we can drive up the I-5 and be there in like six hours. Five or five and a half, maybe, depending on traffic." He slipped the phone back into his pocket and cocked his head slightly as he looked at her. His shaggy dark hair fel over to one side. "Makes more sense than trying to catch the train at every station, don't you think?"
"Sounds great," Lila said absently. Because what sounded even better was the plan she was quickly outlining in her head. Oakland wasn't too far away from Stanford. After she captured
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