He ran downstairs and picked up the phone.

*Hello?'

*Nat! Oh, thank God! We didn't know where you were.' Jacob's mom.

*I forgot something at home.'

*Are you coming back right now?'

*Yes. Right now.'

He hung up the phone and walked back upstairs, where he changed into jeans and warm socks and shoes. And a jacket he didn't like very well, because the one he did like had been left at Jacob's.

He let himself out, locked the front door carefully. Stopped at the curb and threw the key-on-a-string down the storm drain.

He chose a direction more or less by feel and began to walk.

It was unclear to Nat how long he had walked, or where he was headed. He knew only that the suitcase was heavy, and he had to keep transferring it from hand to hand.

He followed dark streets until they opened up on to the train yard. Which he assumed would also be deserted. Every place he had walked since leaving home had been deserted.

The entire world was asleep, he thought.

But not the train yard.

Here a huddle of four men stood around a fire built in an old oil barrel, warming their hands and laughing. A couple more men sat in an open freight wagon of a still train, their legs dangling and swinging over the edge.

They all looked up to mark Nat's arrival.

He walked closer. Liking the idea that someone lived here, and used the night for something other than sleeping.

*Well. Who do we have here?' one of the men asked.

Viewed up close, they looked poor. Their coats and beards were untended, to say the least.

*Nobody,' Nat said.

*Perfect,' the man said. *You'll fit right in.'

Nat sat on the edge of a freight wagon, dangling his legs over the edge. Staring into the leaping flames of the fire. Letting it hypnotize him. Burn all the thoughts out of his head.

He watched little lights swirl in the air above the oil barrel, thinking that some were sparks and some were fireflies, and that it was hard to tell them apart.

But no, it was too early in the season for fireflies. Or was it?

Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.

The old man sitting next to him was drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. He held the bottle out to Nat.

*Snort? It'll warm you up.'

*OK.'

He accepted the bottle. Wiped off the mouth of it with his sleeve. Pulled a swallow. Coughed. All the men were watching and they all laughed at him.

*Where do you go when you jump on a train?' Nat asked the old man.

*Anywhere I damn please,' the man said.

*That sounds good.'

*It has its advantages.'

Another younger man, standing warming his hands at the fire, said, *Has its advantages for us. But maybe you'd best go home.'

Nat said nothing.

*Where's your family, boy?'

*Don't have any.'

*Well, what've you been doing up until now?'

Nat shrugged. *Just living with a stranger, I guess.'

*Maybe a stranger is better than nothing at all.'

*I guess I used to think so,' Nat said. *But I don't any more.'

21 March 1973.

The World.

When Nat woke again, the train was moving. The door to his freight wagon had been closed without his knowing it, and the train had departed. And there was no one else in the car except him.

Good, he thought.

He scooted over to the door. A crack about an inch or two wide allowed light in. And allowed him to see out. And he watched the world go by.

He saw mountains in the distance. He had never seen mountains before. And massive sheets of icicles hanging on rock faces. He saw fields of cows and sheep, and horses running in a big paddock with their tails raised like flags.

He saw the dankest, most depressed corners of cities. The junk yards and train yards and stacked cargo containers and chain-link fences and steel railroad bridges.

And then, the country again, with its barns and tractors and silos and irrigation ditches separating neatly tilled fields.

He watched for hours, which turned into watching all day. And never once felt bored. How could he be bored? It was the world. It had been here all along, but no one had invited a or allowed a him to see it. Did they think he didn't care about the world outside his miserable little city? Or was the world just like everything else? Just another secret to be kept from him?

His stomach felt empty and achy, but it seemed worth the sacrifice. No people. No school. No lies.

He would find food. He would beg it, or steal it, or work for it, but he'd find a bite somehow before the sun went down. That is, if this train ever stopped.

One way or another he would get by.

22 March 1973.

Over.

He woke in the pitch dark with a start. Still inside that freight wagon. Still unfed. Teeth chattering from the cold. His hip ached where it pressed against the cold metal floor. His mouth was dry, and he worked hard to wet his parched tongue with his own saliva.

He could hear the doors of train wagons being banged open. That's what woke him. And the noises were moving closer.

He wondered if there was still time to slip out and get away.

The huge cargo door slid open with a clang.

Nat squinted into a light. A light was being shined on him, and he threw a hand up in front of his eyes.

*OK, son,' a big male voice said. *Your vagabond days are over. Grab your things and come with me.'

23 March 1973.

Nothing.

*You scared the living daylights out of me!' The old woman shrieked the words too close to Nat's ear, making him wince. Then she raised her hand and struck him. Hard. Right across the ear, causing the inside parts of his ear to ache. *And Jacob's mother. She was responsible for you. Do you know how scared she was?'

Another vicious smack, again on the same sore ear.

He looked up at the cops. As though they might be some help to him.

If Nat had smacked someone that hard, they would probably have arrested him all over again. Lectured him on how violence was wrong, and never solved anything.

But apparently grandsons were fair game.

The cops just raised their eyebrows at him and said nothing at all. But their looks seemed to say Nat deserved all that and more.

*And why? Because I left without you? Because you thought you should be allowed to come along? That is the most selfish behavior I ever heard of!'

Nat flinched. Guarded his ear with both hands. But she kept her hands at her sides this time.

*Is that why you did it?'

Nat said nothing.

*Answer me!'

Still Nat said nothing.

*What do you have to say for yourself, young man?'

*Nothing,' Nat said.

*You know, you're going to have to talk to me sooner or later,' she said on the long drive home.

She had estimated it would take her nineteen hours of driving to get back, and did Nat have any idea what all that gasoline would cost? Not to mention the wear and tear on the car?

He did not. Nor did he care.

*Sooner or later you'll have to say something.'

That's what you think, he thought.

*Why didn't you give them your name? If you'd told them your name I would have gotten the call yesterday. But no, you said nothing, and I had to wait another day while they matched you up with missing-child reports from all over the country. And poor Jacob's mother just about died a thousand deaths waiting. She felt so responsible for you. Why didn't you just tell the police who you were?'

Because, Nat thought, if I had wanted to get back to you I wouldn't have hopped a freight train to begin with.

*And then poor Mick's wife had to take two days off work to stay home with the kids because I had to come home and report you missing. And they can ill afford that cut in income. Especially now, with poor Mick in the hospital. You know, I'm beginning to think you're one of those selfish children who just always has to be the center of attention. Poor Mick doesn't even deserve my attention when his appendix bursts, because it always has to be all about Nat. Is that how it is, Nat? Because if that's how it is, I will not tolerate that. I will not raise some spoiled little child who feels he's the center of the entire solar system, and that we're all supposed to revolve around him like he was the sun. So, is that how it is with you?'

Nat said nothing.

*Why won't you speak for yourself?'

Because you don't listen, he thought.

*And now what am I supposed to do? They still need help at Mick's house, but now I don't dare leave you alone. Because I don't know if I can trust you. Well? Can I? Can I trust you?'

Nat said nothing.

*Well, it wouldn't even matter if you said I could. It wouldn't help. Because I'd still never know if it were true. For all I know, you might just be lying.'

Imagine that, Nat thought. Imagine not knowing if the person you know best in the world is telling you the truth or lying to your face. But he didn't say any of that. Of course. He said nothing.