The Long Way To You

Maya smiled. She could almost see Leo standing on a platform far away, waving his arms. She imagined telling him about the cinnamon toast and the yellow socks that would not stay inside her bag.

Then the board flashed again.

A crowd moved all at once.

People hurried toward the stairs. A man rolled two large suitcases past Maya. A woman carried a sleeping child. Somewhere, a voice called, “Platform twelve is boarding!”

Maya reached for Mom’s hand, but her fingers caught only the soft edge of Mom’s coat.

“Mom?”

The crowd pressed between them. Maya saw Mom just ahead, near a sign with a large twelve on it.

“Come on!” Mom called. “This way!”

Maya pulled her bag after her. Its wheels bumped over a crack in the floor. She passed a coffee stand and a row of shining doors. Two trains waited side by side, both with bright lights and open doors.

Maya stopped.

“Which one?” she asked.

A man in a blue cap pointed toward the train on the left. “Twelve,” he said, as if he had heard her question.

Maya looked up. A sign above the train said 12A.

Mom stood near the door. “Maya, hurry!”

Maya climbed aboard.

Inside, the train smelled like warm bread and clean seats. People lifted bags into the racks. A bell rang. Maya found a seat beside the window, and Mom sat next to her.

For a moment, Maya felt proud. She had made it. She had boarded the train that would take her to Leo.

The doors slid shut.

Maya waved through the glass. The station began to move backward.

“Goodbye, Boston!” she called.

Mom waved back.

The train rolled out of the station, past brick buildings and rows of windows shining in the morning sun. Maya pressed her palm to the glass. Her stomach felt light and happy.

Then a conductor walked down the aisle.

“Tickets, please.”

Maya pulled hers from her pocket. The conductor scanned it and smiled.

“Chicago,” he said. “You’ll change trains in Albany.”

Maya blinked. “Albany?”

“Yes. This train heads west first.”

She looked at Mom. “West?”

Mom took the ticket and read it. Her eyebrows lifted.

“Oh,” she said softly.

Maya’s happy feeling wobbled. “Is this the wrong train?”

Mom checked the number printed on the ticket. Then she looked out at the tracks, where another train was already shrinking in the distance.

“The train we wanted left from twelve B,” Mom said. “We boarded twelve A.”

Maya looked through the window at the station growing smaller. The signs blurred. The people became tiny dots.

“But I saw twelve,” she said.

“I know,” Mom replied. “It was easy to miss the letter.”

Maya held the invitation in her lap. Leo’s blue words looked just as bright as before, but the trip on the schedule was no longer the trip in her mind.

“Will I still get to Leo?” she asked.

Mom put an arm around her. “Yes. We will ask what to do when we reach Albany. We’ll find the best way forward.”

Maya nodded, but her eyes filled with tears. She had practiced the journey in her head. She would ride east, then west, then arrive at Leo’s town. She had pictured each stop.

Now the train was taking her somewhere else first.

The conductor returned with a small paper map. He pointed to a line that crossed the page.

“This route goes to Albany,” he explained. “From there, you can take another train west. It adds time, but your ticket can be changed.”

Maya traced the line with her finger. The map felt smooth and thin.

“How much time?” she asked.

“Almost a whole day,” he said kindly.

Maya’s shoulders drooped. “That’s a long time.”

“It is,” Mom said. “But you have books, snacks, and a window.”

Maya looked outside. Trees slipped past in green and gold streaks. A river flashed beside the tracks like a silver ribbon.

The conductor tucked the map into the seat pocket. “When you get to Albany, ask at the help desk. They will show you the next train.”

“Thank you,” Maya said.

He nodded and moved on.

Maya opened her bag. Her book was there. So was a paper bag of apple slices, a bottle of water, and the small notebook she used to write to Leo. She took out the notebook and turned to a clean page.

Dear Leo, she wrote.

She paused.

The train gave a gentle bump. The apple slices smelled sweet. Somewhere behind her, a person unwrapped a sandwich. A little boy across the aisle pressed his nose to the window and counted bridges.

Maya wrote again.

I got on the train, but I got on the one that goes west first. I am still coming.

She read the words aloud.

“I am still coming,” she said.

Mom smiled. “That sounds right.”

Maya shut the notebook. “I thought being ready meant nothing could go wrong.”

Mom squeezed her hand. “Being ready helps. But sometimes a trip takes a turn. Then we look carefully, ask for help, and keep going.”

Maya thought about the two trains beside each other. She had seen the number twelve but not the letter after it. She had hurried because she did not want to miss Mom.

“I should have asked someone to read the whole sign,” she said.

“That would have helped,” Mom agreed. “And next time, we can both check.”

Maya liked that Mom said “we.” The mistake did not feel like a heavy stone anymore. It was still a mistake, but it was one they could fix together.

She drew a tiny train in her notebook. It had a smiling face and four round wheels. Above it, she wrote, WEST FIRST.

The train moved faster now. Houses gave way to fields. A red barn stood beside a fence, and cows lifted their heads as the train passed. Maya counted three white clouds, then five birds on a wire.

At noon, she shared her apple slices with Mom. At one o’clock, she read two chapters of her book. At two, she sent Leo a message from the train’s small wireless signal.

I’m on my way! The route changed, but I’m going to keep going.

Leo answered a few minutes later.

I knew you could do it. Save me a window seat.

Maya laughed. “He says to save him a window seat.”

“Then you’d better choose a good one,” Mom said.

Maya looked at the wide window beside her. The glass was cool beneath her hand. Beyond it, the land rolled on and on, full of roads, farms, rivers, and towns she had never seen.

She had wanted the journey to begin perfectly. Instead, it had begun with a wrong letter and a new line on a map.

Still, the train was carrying her forward.

As afternoon softened into evening, Maya placed Leo’s invitation safely in her notebook. She checked her ticket, checked the map, and checked the time written on the paper the conductor had given them.

“Albany comes next,” she said.

Mom nodded. “And when we arrive, we’ll find the help desk together.”

Maya leaned against the seat. The train hummed beneath her, steady and warm. She missed her kitchen already, and she missed the easy plan she had made at home.

But she could see Leo’s message on the screen.

Save me a window seat.

Maya smiled and turned back to the window. The train was heading west first, adding a long detour to her trip, but she was on her way to Leo - and she would not be traveling alone.

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters and about 8,613 words in the full book.