The rain had started again, soft at first and then pounding against the old glass windows of Maplewood Station. The small town’s train station was nearly deserted, except for a handful of late travelers and one girl sitting alone on a wooden bench, earbuds in, backpack clutched tightly against her chest.
Her name was Rhea, sixteen, and tired of waiting—not just for the delayed 9:45 train, but for something bigger. For life to finally change.
She tapped her foot to the muffled beat of her music, staring at the glowing departure board. Every train flickered between “On Time” and “Delayed.” Maplewood wasn’t a place anyone stayed in forever; it was the kind of town you left the moment you got the chance. And Rhea wanted nothing more than to leave.
“Train’s late again?” a voice said.
Rhea pulled one earbud out and glanced up. A boy about her age leaned against the pillar next to her. His jacket was soaked, and his hair stuck to his forehead, but his smile looked annoyingly unaffected by the rain.
“Yeah,” Rhea muttered. “Big surprise.”
The boy shrugged, dropping his duffel bag at his feet. “Maplewood trains are never on time. I think it’s a rule.”
Rhea raised an eyebrow. “You from here?”
“Was,” he said, then corrected himself. “Not anymore. Tonight’s my escape.”
That caught her attention. She sat up a little. “Escape to where?”
“Anywhere that’s not here,” he replied with a smirk. “You?”
Rhea hesitated. She wasn’t used to being honest with strangers. But maybe that’s why it was easier. “Same. Anywhere but here.”
For a moment, they just listened to the storm beat against the station. The boy stretched out his hand. “I’m Kieran.”
“Rhea.” She shook it. His palm was warm, despite the rain.
Kieran sat on the bench across from her. “So, what are you running from?”
She looked at him, trying to decide how much to say. “Not running. Just… stuck. My dad thinks I should take over his hardware store. My mom says college is too expensive. Everyone here wants me to shrink into Maplewood like them. But I want—” She stopped, biting her lip. “I don’t know. More.”
Kieran’s expression softened. “I get it. My dad says I’ll never make it as a musician. Thinks it’s stupid. So he lined up this job at some factory. Said it’ll ‘build character.’” He made air quotes, then rolled his eyes. “But I bought a one-way ticket to the city instead.”
Rhea’s eyes widened. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.” He grinned. “Life’s too short to be trapped in a town that doesn’t believe in you.”
She wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t that easy, but something about his conviction made her chest ache. She thought of her sketchbook, hidden under her bed, pages filled with city skylines she’d never seen in person. Maybe he was right.
The loudspeaker crackled. “Attention passengers: the 9:45 train to Eastbridge is now arriving on Platform Two.”
Kieran stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He looked at her. “So, Rhea. You coming?”
Her heart skipped. She had a return ticket in her backpack, proof that she was only supposed to visit her aunt for the weekend. Proof she was expected back in Maplewood, back to the same life. But the way Kieran stood there—rain-drenched, determined, free—made her wonder if maybe this was the moment she’d been waiting for.
She gripped the straps of her backpack. The safe thing would be to stay. The brave thing would be to go.
The train screeched to a halt, doors sliding open with a hiss. Kieran gave her a half-smile. “It’s now or never.”
Rhea’s pulse thundered. She stood slowly, legs trembling. The storm outside didn’t seem so loud anymore.
She took a deep breath.
And stepped toward the train.
