The Hobo Ballerina

     I set my rocking chair in the middle of the living room - it would be my boxcar - and I went to my room to change. I loved the red ballerina costume because it had feathers at the collar bone that swept out past my arms. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had two big girl teeth growing, and they looked strange next to my baby teeth, but I liked the way I looked.

     I was deeply tanned from playing outside with my cousins and swimming in the pool. My eyes, skin, and hair was all a light shade of brown, which had prompted one of my mom's co-workers to describe me as monochromatic, which I had to look up in the dictionary. The red costume broke up the brownness, so I was happy, but what really thrilled me were the silver sequins. I loved anything that sparkled.

     I grabbed my baton and a baby blanket from my toy box. It was important to pack wisely for riding the rails. I grabbed my Monchichi for company. The rails could be a lonely place. I grabbed my harmonica because you aren't allowed to be a hobo without one. I needed a snack, just in case, so I washed an apple, and placed it on the blanket along with my Hickory Dickory Dock book with a clock for telling time. I wrapped my items carefully and tied them to my baton and set off.

     The train was already in motion. I hid, so the guards wouldn't see me. They didn't like freeloaders. The train chuffed a slow steady rhythm as it overcame its steel inertia. I watched and waited for the perfect opportunity and the perfect boxcar. And there it was. I jumped on without hesitation. Hesitation could get you killed, or worse, maimed for life. I settled down amongst the cargo and took out my apple. It matched my ballerina costume: red and delicious. I wished for a pocket knife like my dad's. I'd be able to cut the peel off in one whole ribbon like my great-grandmother could, but no one trusted me with anything sharp, so I ate it peel and all.

     As I was finishing up my apple, I noticed a man who could run so fast, he could keep up with the train. He was staring at me with green eyes, one clear and one cloudy. He called out to me, "Whatcha doin' there? Are you a ballerina?"

     I pulled me feet up closer to me and grabbed up my bindle. "Yes."

     "Are you a hobo? That looks like a hobo bag."

     "Why? What are you going to do about it?"

     The man laughed and sped up to outrun the train. It was a close call. I re-arranged my bindle and grabbed my harmonica. I blew in and out making a soulful haw-hummm sound. It echoed the lonesome sound of my roaming soul.

     Haw-hummm. The rocking of the train was making me sleepy. I took out my monchichi and told her about the green-eyed man. The memory put me back into an alert state.

     "Deb!" The sound came from further up the train. "Deb!"  Was someone calling me? I poked my head out of the boxcar door. A woman holding food was looking at me from the passenger cars. "It's time for lunch." She was standing next to the green-eyed man.

     "How did you know I was on this train?"

     She indicated the man. "He told me. Now go wash your hands."