Following Me
K.A. Linde
Chapter One - Chicago Bound
DEVON SAWYER SKIPPED to the next song on her iPod and adjusted the small earbuds to fit more comfortably. She bobbed her head to the ’90s punk rock blasting through her headphones, her blonde hair falling around her face. She was thankful that no one else was clued in to her choice of music. She wanted to listen to something that felt comfortable to her, and her older brother’s music always did the trick.
The train rattled along on its course. It had pulled out of the countryside and moved into the suburbs until it would finally reach the heart of Chicago. During the six-hour train ride from St. Louis into the city, Devon couldn’t quit biting her nails. They weren’t particularly long to start out with, but they were quickly turning into stubs.
Her feet tapped softly against the carpeted floor as she stared out the closed window at the passing flatlands and cornfields prominent in the Midwest. Since stepping onto the first train with nothing more than her purse and carry-on suitcase, she hadn’t paid much attention to anything. Although she was still focused on the end of term and her immediate departure, she couldn’t stop thinking about the one thing she didn’t want to think about.
But she had made her decision. For better or for worse, she had left St. Louis.
“Next stop, Chicago Union Station,” the conductor called over the intercom.
Devon popped up from her daydream. One of her earbuds fell out as she straightened in her seat. She looked down at the open notebook sitting in her lap. Words filled the pages, but she couldn’t remember writing them down. Reading the first few lines only intensified her despair, and she decided not to continue with the rest at the moment.
A stewardess walked through the cabin, smiling at the passengers as she stamped their tickets. Devon had the last seat on the train, and the woman was fast approaching her. She averted her eyes, hoping the woman would just leave her be. The last thing she wanted was to talk to a peppy stewardess.
Devon was out of luck.
“Miss,” the stewardess said, leaning into her chair.
Devon ignored her.
“Miss. Excuse me, miss?”
Devon pulled out the other earbud, shut her notebook, and turned to face the woman. “Yes?”
“Did you want anything else from the cart before we enter the station?”
“No, thank you,” Devon answered.
“Here, let me stamp your ticket,” she said, reaching out her hand.
Devon bent down to retrieve her bag, and then she began rifling through it to locate the ticket.
“So, why are you traveling to Chicago?” the woman asked, making polite conversation.
“Just meeting a friend,” Devon said.
“That sounds fun,” she said.
When Devon glanced up at her, the woman gave her an even bigger smile.
“How long are you staying?”
“Uh…” Devon murmured, trailing off as if looking into her bag distracted her. “As long as I want, I guess. Haven’t really thought that far.”
“Wow! You’re just picking up and going?” the stewardess asked, surprised.
“It’s my summer break, and I have some friends in the city,” Devon told her, not sure why she felt like she had to justify it.
“Neat. Are you at a school in St. Louis then?”
She finally located her ticket and handed it to the woman. Devon was ready for the woman to leave. “Yep. Washington University.”
“That’s a great school! My son always wanted to go there, but we just couldn’t afford a private school, you know?” She placed a stamp on the ticket and returned it to Devon.
“Sure,” Devon said, not really understanding.
Her parents had told her she could go to whatever school she wanted. They were songwriters in Nashville, and business was good. Devon had wanted to start over and move far away from the South into a new city. Her parents would have preferred an Ivy League education if she were going to leave, but Devon hadn’t gotten into the Big Three.
Wash U was close enough to Ivy anyway. Plus, as soon as she had stepped onto campus, she had fallen in love with the school. Everything from the brick castle-like edifices to the large open grounds to the people she had met on her tour had pulled her in completely. She had spent the last three years there, and now, she didn’t know if she would ever go back.
Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Devon reminded herself that she had made the right decision by leaving. She had to get away. She just needed to keep telling herself that.
The train began to slow as high-rises flew past the surrounding windows.
“That’s my cue!” The stewardess jumped up. “Have a fun trip in Chicago,” she called before bustling about through the cabin.
Devon stood and collected her bags. The passengers were cast into darkness as they rolled into Chicago Union Station. As the train rattled to a stop on the tracks, she pushed her way through the crowd. She was more than ready to be off the train. A man swung his bag backward, catching her in the ribs, and she grunted.
“Sorry,” the guy muttered, not even glancing at her.
Devon knew she was on the shorter side, but she wished people would be more considerate. She pushed past him and got off the train, struggling to bring air back into her lungs.
As the crowd headed for the exit, people jostled her on all sides. Relieved to be out of the fray, Devon lugged her bag with effort into the train station. It was white marble in every direction with a high-arch glass ceiling, enormous pillar entranceways, and benched seating. Standing there to admire it all, Devon thought it was beautiful.