“So, do you love that Titanic movie? Since you’re such a Molly fan?” I asked, shoving Max’s backpack under my seat.
“Not really.” She tilted her head, watching me curiously.
“Yeah? I thought every girl on the planet loved that old movie. All the romance, Leo and Kate—”
“It was okay. But not historically accurate. At least not the part about Molly Brown. She wasn’t even called Molly in real life.”
I gaped at her. “Wow. You’re like a walking encyclopedia.”
She lowered her eyes, and I hoped I hadn’t embarrassed her. Guess I wouldn’t tell her that I loved that movie. Nobody needed to know that.
She glanced out the window then turned back to me, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t hate the movie. I’m not a cynic. But I would’ve liked—”
“More Molly? I mean, more Mrs. Brown. Less Kate and Leo?”
She laughed. “You make me sound heartless.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’re heartless.” My voice was low, so the kids couldn’t hear. Not like they were paying any attention to us anyway. Gilly chattered nonstop, wondering when the dancing waiters would show up like in the Polar Express movie, while Max frowned out the window, looking worried. He’d probably need a shot of lavender courage soon.
Trina glanced up at me from underneath her eyelashes, her eyes like melting dark chocolate. I wondered if maybe the train had passed through some sort of vortex where everything flipped upside down, because I felt dizzy and definitely not right side up.
WTF was wrong with me? Girls never made me feel like this. Never.
“Slade!” Gilly’s voice was sharp. “Tell Max this train does not go to the moon. But it does go to the North Pole.”
I tore my gaze away from Trina, taking a few seconds to remember where I was, and why.
Max crossed his arms defiantly. “I thought you said this was an adventure day.” He glared at me.
“It is, buddy. An awesome one. We’re on the light rail, right?”
He pouted. “But I wanted to go to the moon. Like in that book about the moon train.”
I looked at Trina helplessly.
“But in the book,” she said quickly, “all the kids fall asleep on the train. You’d miss all the fun if you fell asleep, right?” She leaned across the gap between the seats and ruffled his hair. “Besides, we’re going downtown. That’s an adventure in itself.”
The kids wore matching suspicious expressions.
“Will there be rides?” Gilly asked. “A Ferris wheel?”
“Popcorn and candy?” Max’s voice was hopeful.
“Oh, yeah!” Gilly chimed in. “And a gift shop. I want a stuffed animal this time. A really huge one, even bigger than me.”
I seriously doubted there’d be a Molly Brown stuffed doll.
The kids watched us expectantly and Trina turned to me, anxiety etched on her face. If only I’d been listening to her last night. I could’ve suggested something else, something with more kid-wow factor.
But I’d been too distracted by the idea of kissing her. Even now, at the very moment when I should be saving the day somehow, what I really wanted was for the kids to disappear with some substitute Mary Poppins so that I could focus on Trina, and that lip she kept biting, and her purple toenails, and—
“I’m sure we can find snacks somewhere.” Trina turned away from me to the kids.
“Maybe on the Sixteenth Street Mall,” I said, willing the sparkle to return to her eyes.
“I hate malls,” Max announced, his voice inching up the whiney Richter scale.
Trina sighed heavily next to me, and I wanted to touch her, to relax her and let her know the day would be fine. It would work out, like it always did, though there might be a few glitches. Maybe more than a few, based on the kids’ expectations and the reality they were about to encounter.
“It’s not like the mall you go to with your mom, Max,” I said. “It’s outside. It’s a street you can walk on, that cars can’t drive on.” I grinned at him. “With a shuttle train that goes from one end to the other.”
“And it has pianos you can play,” Trina chimed in.
“Pianos?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It’s an art project. Artists decorated a bunch of pianos, and they’re placed along the mall randomly. Anyone can play and sing, or whatever.”
“Huh. That’s cool.”
“I can play ‘Chopsticks,’” Gilly announced.
“Me too,” Max elbowed her. “And ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.’”
I grinned at Trina. “Sounds like a plan.”
She took a deep breath. “We can walk to the Sixteenth Street Mall after the museum. I’m glad you thought of it.”
“Museum?” Max piped up, smiling for the first time since we got on the train. “Are we going to see the dinosaurs again?”
“Moon rover!” Gilly exclaimed, bouncing in her seat.
Crap.
“Uh, no,” Trina’s voice was soft. “It’s a historical museum. About a famous Colorado woman who lived here about one hundred years ago. She was amazing. She used to—”
“A museum about an old woman?” Gilly tilted her head. “What’s in it?” She frowned. “Is it a boring one? With old-lady clothes and hats?”
Trina sighed next to me. “Well, some of that, but—”
Gilly glowered at us. “Who cares what people wore in the old days? I saw some movie where ladies had to wear dresses to swim. That’s dumb.”
“It was different then, Gillian,” Trina said. “Standards have cha—”
“I’m never wearing a dress to swim.” She frowned at Trina. “And you can’t make me.”
“I never said I would. Your swimsuit is fi—”
“Boys are lucky,” Max interrupted. “We don’t even have to wear shirts in the summer when it’s hot outside.”
“That’s not fair,” Gilly growled. “I hate that stupid rule. If it’s hot today, I’m taking my shirt off. I don’t care if it’s public or not.”
I felt all the air whoosh out of Trina as she sagged next to me.
“Nobody’s going shirtless today.” I pointed at both kids. “No shirts means no candy. Or gift shops.”
They stared at me open-mouthed.
“You’re mean, Slade,” Gilly said, kicking at my legs. “Just because you’re a boy and don’t have to wear clothes in the summer.”
“Everybody has to wear clothes in the summer, Gilly.” I gave her my knock-if-off glare, but she didn’t flinch.
A woman across the aisle tried unsuccessfully to hold in her laughter.
“You can swim naked,” Max said. “I heard my dad say so. I think it’s called skippy dipping.”
Trina’s laughter bubbled out, making my skin tingle.
“Skinny-dipping, Max. It’s called skinny-dipping.” She darted a glance at me, and my stomach did that weird thing again.
“But what if you’re fat?” Gilly asked. “What’s it called then?”
“It’s not nice to call people fat, Gilly,” Max scolded, sounding just like Trina.
“That’s true.” Trina glanced at me again, the sparkle back in her eyes. “And no one’s going skippy dipping today.”
Gilly examined us closely. “Not even you guys?”
Trina and I both froze like statues, not daring to look at each other. I wondered if she was fantasizing about the same thing I was. Probably not.
“Denver Convention Center,” the recorded voice announced over the speakers.
“This is our stop,” Trina stood abruptly, and the kids slid off their seats, chattering with excitement.
The doors whooshed open and we emerged onto the street, cars whizzing by, honking their horns, the air reeking of exhaust fumes and stale urine.
“Ew,” Gilly said as the train glided away. “Downtown smells bad.”
Trina folded her arms. “Downtown smells like life, Gilly. People and cars and food and—”
“Throw-up,” Max interjected, pointing to a nasty spot on the sidewalk.
Trina raised her face to the sky and closed her eyes. I couldn’t tell if she was holding in tears or laughter.