The Lilac Tunnel: My Journey with Samantha

In an instant I understand: no locket means no way home, and no way home means I’m stuck on a train that’s about to leave the station. I jump up and run for the front, but Mrs. Davis blocks the aisle, her hand firm on my shoulder, and forces me back into a front-row seat. Scanning frantically for Elsa, I know she’s already gone, and I’m wondering desperately if the windows are big enough to crawl through when a face appears outside: Samantha, waving from the platform.

I force the window open before Mrs. Davis can stop me, calling out to Samantha, and she runs over, already breathless. My locket, I tell her quickly, it’s in the bathroom by the tub, I need it. Determination sets hard on her face, and she takes off running.

I picture Samantha’s path home, not far, just down the street, maybe ten minutes the way Elsa and I walked it earlier. How long at a run? Will she make it back in time? If not, I’m stuck in the future with nothing but a cardboard suitcase, no laptop, no phone, no way to call anyone, no family. Truly alone.

My heart pounds hard in my ears as I count the seconds, one, two, three, all the way to 202 before giving up, too nervous and shaky to keep track.

The whistle blows, sharp and final, and I’m on my feet, staring out the window, willing Samantha to appear. Please, please, please.

Then I see Samantha, racing down the platform, something swinging from her hand. My locket! I lean through the window as far as I can, hand outstretched, and she presses it into my palm, holding on tight to make sure it doesn’t drop. I grip it and her hand both, neither of us able to speak, too breathless, just locking eyes until the train lurches and starts pulling away, and I finally manage a shouted thank you.

Samantha nods and waves until she disappears from view. Turning back into my seat, clutching the locket tight to my chest, I glance once more at the little blond boy still staring out his window. I’m going home. What about him? Swallowing a wave of sadness, I sink down into the seat and pry the locket open.

I fall, gripping it tight, and land hard on my own bed, dressed again in capris and a t-shirt. Burying my face in the pillow, the tears finally come. A knock at the door, Gracie, letting herself in before I can answer, though I couldn’t have spoken anyway. Seeing me cry, she pats my back gently like she’s the older sister, which almost makes me cry harder, except I don’t want to scare her, so I pull myself together. Am I sad? I was, I tell her, homesick, but better now.

Gracie’s eyes light up: do I want to play? Yes, I tell her, it feels like days since I’ve seen her, and I realize if Samantha had been even a minute later, it might have been a lifetime. I take Gracie’s hand and let her lead me out of the room, grateful just to be home.