Silver Voices: Book Nine The Sock and the Sparkle

Dedicated to the ones who never packed, but always arrived.
The train didn't ask. It paused, then stopped.
Steam curled around Glen Rock's old water tower like a whisper from the past, engulfing the whole tower. The gang was mid-mischief-towels flung, parasols tilted, Angel humming softly to a glow bug tucked behind her ear-as the engine leaned gently around the bend, going as fast as the steam would allow. Not being loud. Not with urgency. Just... ready.
No one packed. No beads. No scrolls. No bundles. Just truth, stardust, and Glen Rock stitched into their sleeves.
Boots leapt aboard first, declaring it a "Bend Emergency." Pixie followed, sketchpad flapping. Whimsy blinked twice and climbed in backwards. Sebastian tried to protest, but the train let out a soft whistle that sounded suspiciously like Ali's laugh.
This wasn't a journey. It was an adventure.
And as the train pulled away from the station, the water tower shimmered-like it remembered every Brum fire, every pipi splash, every truth ever told beneath Glen Rock's dusk.