Winstons |The Outsiders|

3. Dallas, Texas

The train station was nearly empty Wednesday evening, sitting on the benches were three businessmen and a young woman. Off at the back of the station was a group of children, they had their backs to Hannah, but she could still hear them laughing amongst themselves.

The shake in her hand had died down considerably, and the pain no longer shot through her body. No, it was just a dull ache now. As she and Sam walked up to the platform, she began to plan. 

It's just a burn, Hannah. We've done this before. Run under water, slather in lotion, keep it covered.

It would be easy to keep covered, the burn was no larger than a quarter.

"Alright, I got your ticket early this morning," Sam told her while reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a small brown bag. Hannah extended her hand and took it. Inside was much more than just a train ticket. A red toothbrush was the first thing that caught her eye, then the bottle of toothpaste. Under those were, from what she could see,  four cookies wrapped in plastic. The train ticket rested on top of the cookies. Hannah raised her eyebrows and looked at Sam.

"I told Annie you were leaving for Tulsa, and well, you know how she is," he rushed to explain himself. Annie was Sam's wife, and too kind for her own good.

The train was deafening as it sped into the station. People immediately began pulling trunks on and off the train, all while yelling at each other. Others boarded, and some left the train. Hannah reached into the bag and pulled out her ticket. As she shoved the bag into her pocket she cleared her throat. "Thanks for this, Sam. I guess I owe you one, right?"

Sam laughed and rested his hand on her shoulder. Hannah clenched her fists in order to not jerk away. "You're a kid, Hannah. You don't owe me anything."

Hannah shot him a sly smile before shrugging his hand off. With one hand wrapped around her train ticket, and the other clutching her suitcase, she turned and left. A man took her ticket at the front of the train before letting her on. Hannah didn't ignore the judgemental look he shot her, it wasn't very often kids like her actually paid for their tickets.

Hannah dropped her things in the first empty booth she could find. It was about six rows back from the entrance. Looking out the window, Hannah could make out Sam's silhouette wandering away from the platform. For a moment she almost felt guilty for not saying goodbye.

Dallas didn't say goodbye, either.

Her guilty conscience shut up when someone dropped into the booth.

Deep auburn hair was the first thing Hannah noticed. It fell in loose curls around her tanned face, a few stray pieces wandered in front of her eyes. Hannah had never seen an emerald, but that must have been the colour her eyes were. Hidden under dark lashes, they looked exhausted. The stranger wore a purple blouse paired with a dark skirt that fell under her knees. Behind her hair, diamond earrings glittered.

Oh, she is totally rich.

"Oh golly, I'm so sorry to just drop in like this, I know better than that," her voice had a Southern drawl, but Hannah didn't travel enough to know where she was from. The stranger sighed and brushed the hair from her face. "I can move if you wanna be alone, but all the other booths have guys in 'em, and well, I'd rather sit with another girl, y'know?"

Hannah looked out the window as the train lurched forwards, slowly gaining speed. "You can stay, won't bother me none," she said gruffly. The stranger breathed a sigh of relief.  Hannah turned back to face her new bunkmate. The girl stuck out her hand. "I'm Darla, Darla Barnes."

Darla faltered when Hannah only nodded her head to her, she had never been one to shake hands. "Hannah."

Darla's eyes stared over every inch of the girl in front of her. Her pants were dark jeans, stained with something and ripped at the knees. Underneath, her light skin was bruised and almost bloody. The younger girl also wore a brown leather jacket. At least two sizes too big, the only part of her hands she could see was red fingers. The jacket stunk of tobacco and alcohol and hid her grey shirt from view. Her gaze finally landed on her feet. This girl, this child wore work boots. They were worn and coated in filth, the laces laid against the floor, untied.