It was raining [1]so hard I almost missed the train because I was waiting under the shelter and I made the mistake of trying to get my stupid umbrella [2]up before making a dash for the cars. The conductor, the cute one who I like, shook his head and smiled at me as I stepped up just ahead of the closing doors.

The head car on the 3:15 out of the city is tacitly[3] reserved for St. Mary’s. We pick it up at Western, a three block walk from the school. Today the car is practically empty because it’s the last day of exams. Most of the kids didn’t even have a last period exam, and many of those that did found another way home, or are celebrating somewhere downtown with friends.

Usually I sit with Melissa Garner[4], but she was one of the lucky ones who didn’t have a last period exam, so she’s not here. Really, there’s no one here I know, not well enough to sit with. As usual, sitting together at the end of the car are a couple of stuck up seniors, Stacy Killian and Ariel Donovan. I slide into the seat behind them. My St. Mary’s skirt is soaked. But at least I’m not the only one.

“ ... seriously wet,” Ariel is telling Stacy. “Seriously fucking wet.”

Stacy giggles. She has the stupidest giggle.

“Tickets,” the conductor calls out behind. “Tickets please. Have your tickets ready. No tickee no ridee.” He usually says stupid stuff like that, but I don’t care. He’s got a nice voice. Deep and gruff. Sometimes at home I try to talk like him. I probably sound like gravel under a boot.

The whole ticket thing is something of a joke, because the conductor knows we all have passes. Melissa thinks he just wants to check us out. She’s probably right. He takes his time strolling down the aisle. I flash my pass, then slip it into my little pink Hello Kitty wallet, which I’ve had like forever[5].

“Feet on the floor please,” the conductor tells Stacy and Ariel. It’s a game. They always sit in the front seat with their feet up on the opposite seat and the conductor always tells them the feet on the floor thing. Then Melissa always gives me that look, her eyes squinted, her smile and face twisted, but she’s not here now, so I do the look and the twist, and then I realize the conductor is looking at me. I blush. He shakes his head and smiles as he passes back down the aisle.

“What a perv,” Ariel tells Stacy, probably before the conductor is quite out of the car. “I’ll be so fucking glad to be done with this train.”

It occurs to me that this is the last time Stacy and Ariel will be on this train, at least as St. Mary’s students. I still have a year to go. But I have the summer off. Not that I’m looking forward to it. Melissa is going hiking in Europe with her parents. I’ll be working at the box factory again, saving for college[6]. Stacy and Ariel put their feet back up on the seat. It occurs to me that next year Melissa and I can have that seat—if we want it.

If anything it’s raining harder now. The train clatters along. I get out the book I’m reading, and I open it, but instead of reading, I stare out the window at the streaming rain. It’s sort of relaxing. Pretty soon we’re out of the city and into the suburbs, and I realize that Stacy and Ariel are quieter than usual, their heads together. Then Stacy says, “Seriously? Mushroom soup?” and Ariel nods and both girls laugh. Then they’re whispering again, and then Ariel says, “You just kind of hum.”

“Hum what?” Stacy asks.

Ariel shrugs. “Just hum hum. Like ‘mmmm-mmmm-mmmm.’”

“Mmmm-mmmm-mmmm?”

“That’s right.”

“Then what?”

“Well, if you’re in a hurry, you just kind of reach your fingers back and press just behind his babalouies.”

“You mean in his—”

“No! Gross! About halfway in between. You can really feel the throb there.”

“Wow. What does it feel like?”

“You mean you’ve seriously never done it?”

Stacy shakes her head.

“You should. Seriously.”

“With Josh?”

“No, silly, not with Josh.”

“Oh, right.”

A moment later Ariel says, “But actually ... maybe you should with Josh. I’m sure he’d love it. And you’d love his jammer. It’s a seriously nice one. Not too big. Not too small. And his stuff tastes good. Like—”

“Mushroom soup!” Stacy supplies, and both girls laugh.

“But what if I don’t like mushroom soup? Stacy asks.

“You don’t actually have to swallow it,” Ariel says. “Once he’s gazzed he could care less.”

I’m tempted to tell Ariel that she means he couldn’t care less, but of course I don’t.

“Besides,” Ariel says, “if he lets you, that gives me the perfect excuse to break up with him.”