Page 8 of A Curvy Carol

“Nothing,” I replied, tucking my coat over my arm. “Come on.”

He followed me to the ticket booth for the Garland Express where a few families and couples waited in line. It was a train that took you on a long ride around the mountains and forest surrounding Garland. I’d been on it so many times that it no longer really felt like anything special at this point.

The train ride wouldn’t be too bad compared to everything else there was to do in Garland. The ride would give me a couple hours to sit and watch the countryside go by. Maybe Whit would go to the viewing deck and I could cross stitch on my own.

“Two tickets, please,” I told the girl at the cash register.

Whit pulled out some cash and paid.I supposed his parents were footing the bill then, I thought to myself.

The girl handed over the tickets and gave us her shpiel on the magic of the train and whatnot.

Then we got on the train, the engine already rumbling. Because it was morning, there was hardly anyone else getting on the train. We got a compartment all to ourselves, which was nice.

I took a seat by the window, and Whit sat down opposite me.

He stared out at the tall, majestic mountains that lay in the distance, blanketed in snow. “What a view,” he breathed.

Here was my chance. “There’s actually a viewing deck that’s all glass windows you can go watch from.”

“Will you come?” he asked. Something about the way he asked had my stomach fluttering in far too hopeful of a way. I had to remember what this was—a way to get out of the Christmas Olympics.

“No, I’ll save our spot.”

“Then I’ll stay with you,” he replied.

Why wasn’t I disappointed by that? Giving up on figuring out my own tangled thoughts, I pulled out my cross-stitch project, the table between us keeping it mostly hidden from Whit’s view.

The train got going, and we were quiet for a while, Whit taking in the views as the train got out of town. I glanced up here and there, making an occasional comment about what we were seeing.

A guy in a fancy waiter’s uniform stopped at our table, small notepad in hand. “Hot chocolate?” he asked.

“No, thanks,” I said.

“I’ll take one,” Whit piped up.

I sighed. “Orange soda, please, if you have it.”

The waiter nodded and set off. Just a few minutes later, he was back with our drinks in hand.

I sipped on my drink while Whit worked on his hot chocolate. “I could have this every day and not get tired of it,” he said.

“You’d be surprised,” I replied, sarcasm in my voice. Hot chocolate was a staple at every Garland Christmas event.

While the train chugged on, we got to talking. It turned out we actually had some stuff in common. Not only were we in the same grade, but we were also both only children.

“Well, I guess that explains why we’re here,” I said. “Do your parents also want to spend way too much time with you?”

Whit smiled sadly. “I’d say the opposite, really. They’re busy running the lodge. It’s practically their baby. They wanted me to make sure I found some friends.”

“Oh,” I replied. That sounded nice. Parents who left you alone. “Well, my parents are divorced, and it seems like every year they try to make up for it more and more.”

Whit winced a little. “Sorry to hear it.”

I sighed. “It’s okay. It wouldn’t be so bad if—” I stopped, realizing I hardly knew Whit and I was telling him my innermost thoughts.

Even my best friends didn’t really know about this stuff. I tried not to complain about my parents because I knew they loved me and were doing their best—even if their best felt a little suffocating time to time.

But something about Whit made him very easy to talk to, even made me want to confide in him.

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