[Complete] [100k] [YA/Fiction] This is Somewhere
Amy likes things a certain way.
She likes being early. She likes having a plan. She likes knowing exactly where she is going next. Unfortunately, life is not particularly interested in cooperating with her.
Between a job that’s starting to wear her down and a manuscript she’s been struggling to finish, Amy could use a change of pace. So she decides to hop on a train, hoping that a long-winded journey might be the exact inspiration her dud of a novel needs.
What she doesn’t expect is to meet three strangers along the way who have a very different idea of what this trip is supposed to look like.
There are new places to see, trains to catch, food to try, and plenty of opportunities for things to go horribly wrong.
For Amy, who has spent most of her life trying to keep everything on track, this is going to be a problem.
Or… it might be exactly what she needs.
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Excerpt
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By late morning, the lounge car drifted into its usual haze of half-interest and comfort. There was that guy in the corner, hunched over the crossword puzzle like the fate of the world depended on 17 Down. A couple of folks were curled up with books, pretending to read, feet tucked under them.
Daniel leaned way back in his chair, stretched so far the whole thing creaked, and let out a big dramatic sigh. "I’m bored."
Andrea lifted her eyes just over the top of her paperback. She’d been pretending to read the same page for ten minutes. "You’ve been unoccupied for, what, forty seconds?"
"Forty-three. I timed it," Daniel replied, almost proud.
"Of course you did," Andrea said, not even missing a beat.
Milagros, as always, folding her hands in her lap, offered, "We could play chess."
Andrea was fast. "No."
"Why not?" Daniel threw her a wounded look, as if she’d just refused him a kidney.
"You cheat," Andrea replied, giving him that lopsided grin.
"I do not," Daniel insisted, as though he was above such things.
"You absolutely do," she pressed.
He pointed at her like a kid on the playground. "I reinterpret the rules."
"You moved your bishop backward last time!" Andrea said, exasperated.
"It was expressing itself," Daniel defended.
"Bishops don’t express themselves," she deadpanned.
"They do in my version."
Andrea turned to Amy with a patient sigh. "You see what I deal with?"
Amy brought her coffee to her lips and smiled. "I haven’t known him very long, but I already believe both of you."
Daniel crossed his arms and tried to appear injured. "Fine, no chess."
A beat, then he straightened with a bored kid restlessness.
"Never Have I Ever."
Andrea groaned. "How old are we, exactly?"
"Young enough to still embarrass ourselves. Or old enough not to care." Daniel’s grin was all mischief.
"I can embarrass myself without a game."
"See? That’s exactly why we should play," he said.
Milagros gave a small, curious nod. "I have never played."
Daniel's eyes lit up. "Perfect. Fresh blood!"
Amy almost snorted coffee out her nose. "I don’t think that’s the phrase you want."
Daniel just waved her off and somehow, maybe just to avoid actual boredom, they all caved. Thirty seconds later, Daniel was already raring to go.
"I’ll start," he declared. "Never have I ever broken a bone."
Hands shot up. Amy looked around, suddenly outnumbered.
"Okay, what happened to you guys?" she said, eyebrows raised.
Andrea lifted two fingers. "Softball."
Milagros said simply, "Goat."
Daniel blinked. "I’m sorry?"
"He won," Milagros said, expression solemn.
"The…goat?"
"Yes."
Andrea nodded as if that covered anything that needed covering. "I don’t even know why I asked."
Amy turned back to Daniel. "You?"
"I’ve never broken anything."
Andrea raised an eyebrow. "Emotionally?"
"Constantly."
Amy snorted. The mood already felt lighter.
Andrea tapped the table, her turn. "Never have I ever eaten an entire cake by myself."
Daniel raised his hand, immediately. So did Milagros.
Amy looked genuinely disturbed. "A whole cake?"
Daniel blinked. "You’ve never done that?"
"No!" Amy said, laughing.
"You should."
"I don’t think I should."
"It builds character," he said with an air of authority.
"It builds diabetes," Amy shot back.
Daniel gave it a moment’s thought. "It can do both, honestly."
Andrea shook her head. "Unbelievable. The two oldest people here enabling the worst decisions."
Milagros smiled, a little wicked. "We’ve had lots of practice."
Daniel leaned forward again, hands folded like he was interviewing them for a job.
"Never have I ever learned to tie my shoes."
Everyone froze. Nobody moved. Daniel just waited, eyes drifting from one face to the next.
Amy finally broke the silence. "…What?"
"You’ve never learned to tie your shoes?" Andrea looked at him like he’d grown a second head.
Daniel shrugged, not the least bit ashamed. "Nope."
She squinted, skeptical. "You’re joking."
"I wish I were."
"Come on," she said, "explain this."
"My mother bought me Velcro shoes," Daniel said, matter-of-fact.
"When you were five?"
"Yes." He smiled. That was his answer.
"And?"
"And I got attached to Velcro," he said sincerely.
Amy had to put down her mug, she was laughing so much. Andrea looked down at his shoes.
"But what about dress shoes?"
"Loafers."
"Hiking boots?"
"Slip-ons."
"Boots with laces?"
"I don’t buy boots with laces. Problem solved."
Andrea looked unsettled, as if Daniel’s entire existence now made slightly less sense. "You’ve made it fifty-two years without tying your shoes."
Daniel looked smug. "It’s going pretty well."
Milagros, always ready with a wild story, lifted a finger. "I once knew a man who refused to wear pants."
The table went dead silent. Daniel’s eyes narrowed. "Seriously?"
"He believed knees deserved freedom," Milagros replied.
Nobody quite knew what to do with that, so Andrea spoke for all of them. "I… genuinely don’t know what to do with that information."
Amy just shrugged. "You don’t have to do anything."
Daniel nodded with strange respect. "I admire commitment in a person."
Andrea cut in. "You admire everyone."
"I don’t admire people who clap when the plane lands," he quickly countered.
She grinned. "Now we see the bar."
Milagros tilted her head. "What if the landing’s really impressive?"
Daniel started to respond, hesitated, and then abandoned the argument altogether. Amy beamed. "You found his limit!"
Daniel pouted. "I don’t like that you’re all enjoying this."
"You started it," Andrea reminded him.
He grinned. "And I regret nothing."
Amy shook her head, half in awe. "I don’t know how you’ve made it this far in life."
Daniel leaned back, comfortable in his own skin. "Adaptability."
Andrea raised a brow. "Laziness."
He nodded in confirmation. "Resourcefulness."
She shot back, "Laziness, but it’s wearing a mustache disguise."
He shrugged. "Judging me again?"
"I absolutely am."
He took a sip of coffee. "I’ve made my peace with that."
Amy studied him a moment. "Were you always this way?"
Daniel didn’t miss a beat. "My mother would definitely say yes."
Andrea burst out laughing. "Instant answer?"
"Because it’s true," he said, smiling at the memory. "My teachers would separate me and my friends every September."
Amy frowned, curious. "Why September?"
"They wanted to start the year with hope."
Andrea laughed. "Did it work?"
"Maybe for a week. Then they realized I could talk to anyone."
He shrugged. "Eventually they moved me again."
Amy gave him a teasing grin. "You were that kid who wouldn’t stop talking?"
He nodded, grinning. "I still am. Same report card comments every year: Daniel is a delight, but perhaps he could let someone else answer a question once in a while."
Andrea pointed. "That’s word-for-word, isn’t it?"
"Mostly. And sometimes: Daniel is very enthusiastic, but climbing the bookshelf is not an acceptable way to retrieve a library book."
Amy’s mouth dropped. "You climbed a bookshelf?"
He shrugged. "Felt faster at the time."
"It was not," Andrea said.
He grinned. "Didn’t stop me."
Milagros smiled softly. "You remind me of my brother. He climbed on the roof once. Wanted to know if birds were happier than people."
Daniel’s eyes widened. "What’d he decide?"
"He said yes."
Daniel nodded. "Understandable."
Amy looked over. "So, were you ever… embarrassed?"
Daniel laughed. "Constantly. Why? I got picked on in middle school."
Andrea softened, genuine this time. "For what?"
He started counting off. "Talking too much. Being too excitable. Waving at strangers."
Amy looked concerned. "You got bullied for waving?"
He spread his hands. "Apparently, that was the fastest way to be uncool."
Andrea snorted. "Yeah. I believe that."
"They called me weird," he said, not bothered at all.
"Would you call yourself that?"
"I was! Still am, actually."
Amy watched him closely, almost expecting him to wince. But he just sipped his coffee, perfectly content.
"So what happened?"
"They just…got bored."
"Of bullying you?"
"No," he said, smiling. "Of trying to embarrass me. My life already did that for them."
Everyone dissolved into laughter. Andrea had to wipe her eyes.
"You know," she said between giggles, "that’s a great defense mechanism."
He shrugged, relaxed. "I figure if you can laugh first, they can’t really get to you."
After a stretch of silence, Amy asked, "What were your parents like?"
Daniel tipped his head back, letting the question settle. He put his elbows on the table.
"My dad was quiet. One of those people who could fix anything. If something broke, he’d go to the garage for an hour, come back all triumphant, like he’d just performed open-heart surgery on a toaster or a blender."
Andrea nodded, already picturing it.
"My mom could talk enough for both of them," he said, the edges of his mouth turning up.
"Where you got it from," Andrea smiled.
"Exactly. She taught piano. Tried to teach me, but my teacher eventually encouraged me “politely” to choose a different hobby."
"Brutal," Andrea said, trying not to laugh.
Daniel smiled at the memory. "It’s okay. My mom never gave up, though. Sunday afternoons, she’d pull out sheet music and try, every time."