Anne wonders where she would be if Trot’s family hadn’t relocated to Tennessee. Where would she have ended up? In school she had people she called friends, but were they really? People she could trust? She had always questioned that. Like her followers on Facebook or Twitter. Fake friends. Just names that really didn’t know her, making snarky puns, one-liners, and comments for likes and follows. Fakes, all of them. Just a bunch of nobodies sitting behind a keyboard casting judgment, saying things they would never say to your face. It was toxic. None of them had any real concern for her. And the feeling was mutual.

They release each other. Even with all the dirt and stink, there is something beautiful about Cinnamon besides her smooth skin, her petite build, her toughness.

And she asks, “What’s the plan? Where we headed?”

They will ride the train until they see the sign for Sanger, Texas, where they’ll hop off. Divert eyes and attention. Gather some supplies. Find a place to camp. Then catch back out. Travel through Texas and head for Arizona. By Cinnamon’s best guess, they’re in Oklahoma now.

What Anne really wants is a bath. Just for a night. To clean up. Lie on a bed with fresh sheets, lie with Cinnamon.

“What about a hotel?” Her heart skips at her own suggestion.

“A hotel?”

“I got money. We could find a cheap one for the night. Shower and relax. Catch out after that.”

“Girl, you done lost your mind? That’s food. That money is for your survival. We’re called ‘dirty kids’ for a reason.”

That glimmer of hope hidden beneath despair dwindles and drifts. Anne says, “I get it. Was just a thought.”

Smiling, Cinnamon tells Anne, “I know we been riding for who knows how long. Feels like days mixed into months. But that’s the rail. It’s a grind. Like I said, once we get into Texas, we’ll hop off in Sanger, get out and get some supplies. You’ll forget all about Dredd. Move forward.”

“I get it,” Anne says. “I just . . .” She hesitates.

Concerned, Cinnamon touches her face. “You what?”

“I never been outside of Tennessee.”

With a look of surprise, Cinnamon says, “Now you’re shitting me for sure.”

“No. Everything I’ve seen so far—it’s all new. Breathtaking. It’s magical, and it’s frightening. It’s all these feelings and emotions rolled up into a ball, tugging and pulling me in all directions. My family never took us much farther than the grocery store, or one of my dad’s friends’ places in the country to shoot guns while they drank beer and played cards.”

“Holy shit. You never visited relatives?”

“No. Nothing interesting about my upbringing. No culture, unless you mean the culture of pissing and moaning and the occasional ass-whipping.”

“I’m without words, in total shock.”