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Charlie could not recall ever being this excited.

When he went to bed, he knew this would be the night . He would have to be very quiet not to wake his mother. He didn’t just have to get dressed and slip out of the house unnoticed,

he needed to prepare. That meant going down to the kitchen and packing up as much food as he could carry in a backpack. It

was too bad about what happened to his mother’s friend, Finnegan, but the good news was he’d brought lots of good stuff for

them to eat from New York, especially the bagels. He grabbed six. Charlie didn’t want to take the time to cut them and put

peanut butter on them. He’d pack that stuff, and a knife from the kitchen drawer, and take it with him.

He wished he could tell his mother he was going. Then they could take the car, which would not only be faster, but would take

a whole lot less energy than would be required to ride a bike all the way to Vermont. But he knew that if he told his mother

that they had to go Lucknow because his dad was there, she’d be all, “Oh, Charlie, no one wants your father to still be alive

more than I do, but I’m sorry, he’s no longer with us.”

Other mothers might have said he was in heaven now, something along those lines, but Charlie’s mother had never been a very

religious person. You were alive, or you were dead, simple as that. But Charlie knew different.

Charlie could have told her he’d been talking to his father, that his dad had shown him how to get the key to the shed, that his dad had told him he was living in the real town that was the inspiration for the one Charlie had made on the floor of his mother’s studio, but what was the point? Some days you just couldn’t talk to her.

Which left Charlie with no choice but to leave without telling her. He didn’t know where, exactly, Lucknow was, but he wasn’t

worried about that. His father would guide him, tell him which roads to take. All Charlie knew for sure was that it was a

very long way , which was why he had been riding his bike so much, around and around the house, building up his strength, so that when it

was time to go, he’d be up to it.

He figured his mother would be all worried when she woke up and found him gone, because mothers were like that. She’d be mad,

too. But when he found his father, and when he brought him back, and they were a family again, he was pretty sure his mother

would forgive him.

After only ten miles, or at least what he guessed were ten miles, since he didn’t have any way to accurately measure distance,

he was exhausted.

The sun was coming up ahead of him, and while he had no real idea where he was, the sun rose in the east, and Vermont was

east, or so his father had told him. The sun was a reassuring sight, but holy moly was he tired.

It was time for a break.

He came to a stop, hopped off the bike, walked it down into the ditch and up the other side, and leaned it against a large oak tree. He sat down, his back up against the rough bark of the tree, and dug into his backpack for breakfast, which consisted of a plain bagel with gobs of peanut butter on it. The knife he’d brought was not a sharp one, and he would have needed a flat surface on which to slice the bagel in half, so he simply piled the peanut butter on top of it and went at it, one bite at a time.

He’d also brought three bottles of water with him. He would have brought more, but they were heavy, and he figured water was

something he could get along the way.

Charlie finished the bagel and washed it down with half a bottle of water. Needed to conserve. He wasn’t sure how long this

trip would take, but he knew it was a long way.

He went around the back of the tree for a pee, zipped up, and hopped on his bike, first checking to make sure there was decent

air pressure in the tires, and continued on. After another hour, he was feeling especially weary. He hadn’t had much sleep

and had been pushing himself hard. Up ahead he saw a barn set close to the road and thought he might find a spot there where

he could recharge. He whipped off the road and pedaled to the side of the barn that faced away from the farmhouse so as not

to be spotted, tucked his bike behind some rusted barrels, and squeezed through the barn doors to get inside. He found a convenient

mound of hay, settled into it, and tried reading a couple of pages from the Ray Bradbury book his father loved so much that

he’d thought to bring, but he wished his dad could be reading it to him. Soon enough.

And then he was asleep.

He guessed he had slept three or more hours. When he poked his head outside, the sun was at its highest point in the sky,

so early afternoon. He drained the other half of his water bottle, slipped the backpack over his shoulder, and hit the road

again.

Charlie was passing through a small town two hours later and his hunger pangs were getting pretty serious. He spotted a small

park, sat down at a picnic table, and went into his bag for another bagel. The bagel was dry and stale, and, even with peanut

butter on it, was not very appetizing.

A block ahead he saw a Denny’s sign towering over the sidewalk. He had some money in his pocket. He’d been sneaking a dollar or two a day out of his mother’s purse the last week, so he had enough for at least one good meal. Maybe he was closer to his destination than he thought. Maybe his dad was already preparing a meal for him for when he arrived, so if he spent all his money now on a restaurant meal, it wouldn’t matter.

He pitched the bagel and the container of peanut butter into a nearby trash can and got back on his bike, hiding it behind

the Denny’s where it wouldn’t be stolen, then went around and in the front door, taking his backpack with him. He slipped

into an empty booth.

After five minutes, a waitress approached and said, “You alone, kid?”

“No,” said Charlie. “My mom’s in the bathroom.”

“Okay,” she said skeptically. “Want some water?”

“Yes, please. A glass for me and a glass for my mom.”

The waitress disappeared for a moment and returned with two glasses of water. “Your mom still in the bathroom?”

Charlie nodded. “I think she’s constipated.”

The waitress nodded. “Well, that’s no fun. When she comes back I’ll take your or—”

“I know what she wants. She just wants coffee and some toast. She’s not a big eater. And I’ll have the Super Slam.”

“You can eat all that? It’s a lot of food.”

Charlie nodded. “And a chocolate shake.”

The waitress made a note. “Super Slam, chocolate shake, coffee, toast. How’s your mom take her coffee?”

“She likes Nespresso.”

The waitress gave Charlie a blank stare. “She want milk or cream? The sugar’s on the table.”

“Just whatever way it comes. You don’t have to worry. We have money.” Charlie dug some bills out of his pocket and dropped them onto the table, flashing a reassuring smile.

The waitress did not return it. “You might want to hit the bathroom yourself. Wash up.”

He looked at his grimy hands, making him wonder what the rest of him looked like. “When my mom comes back.”

The moment the waitress walked away, Charlie guzzled down both glasses of water. When the waitress returned with the coffee

and dropped a couple of creamers onto the table, she eyed the empty water glass across from him but didn’t mention it.

“Your Super Slam is coming up.”

She brought it to the table two minutes later, along with the chocolate milkshake. “I’ll hold the toast and coffee till your

mother gets back.”

Charlie pounced on the meal, shoveling pancakes and eggs and hash browns and sausages into his mouth like it was the last

meal he’d ever have. It was, he concluded, the best meal he’d eaten in his entire life. He sucked down the milkshake so quickly he got a brain freeze, and had to wait a moment

for it to pass before he continued.

When he had finished everything, he felt gloriously full and ready to continue on his journey.

While he was wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he noticed the waitress talking to the man behind the cash register. He

had a feeling they were talking about him, because they kept glancing in his direction while trying to act like they were

not looking in his direction. Charlie knew they were probably starting to wonder just how bad his mother’s constipation might

be, and whether they should call an ambulance for her.

And then he thought, no, that wasn’t what was going on. If they were worried about his mom, the waitress could have gone into the ladies’ room and asked if she was okay, and then they’d know that there was no mom.

The man nodded to the waitress and picked up the phone next to the register.

The waitress came over to his table, and for the first time was smiling sweetly. “How was everything?” she asked.

“It was really good,” Charlie said. “Please give my compliments to the chef.”

“I’ll be sure to do that. Shall I finally bring your mom’s toast and coffee now?”

“Uh, you know, I don’t think she’s even going to want it.”

The waitress nodded, glanced back at the man on the register, who gave her a nod. “Well, why don’t you take your time, let

your food settle, and I’ll come back in a minute in case there’s anything else you want.”

“Okay,” Charlie said.

He might only be a kid, but he had a feeling something was going on. And that feeling was confirmed when he looked out the

window and saw a police car turning into the parking lot.

He didn’t know exactly how much his meal was going to cost, so he put everything he had on the table and slid out of the booth,

grabbing his backpack as he did so.

The waitress, taking an order at another table, spotted him and called out anxiously, “Can I get you something?”

“I’m going to the bathroom!” he said, and as it turned out he could have benefited from the visit, but was afraid if he took

the time he wouldn’t be able to get away before the police came into the restaurant.

There had to be a back way out.

He ran past the door that said men’s and pushed open one that said staff only . That took him into the kitchen, where two women and a man were busily preparing meals.

“Hey, kid!” the man shouted. “Can’t come back here!”

Charlie ran. He spotted another door and aimed for it, hoping it would lead outside. He turned the knob and pushed and he

was out back of the restaurant, and there was his bike, right where he’d left it.

He hopped on and took off as fast as he could.

Even a Super Slam lasted for only so long.

By dusk, Charlie was getting hungry again, and now that he was out in the country somewhere, between towns, there was no place

to get something to eat. There were still some stale bagels in his backpack if he got really desperate. And now he had to

start thinking about where he would spend the night. It wasn’t like he could check into a motel. He didn’t have enough money

for that. He was starting to wonder if he hadn’t thought this through as well as he could have.

Especially when the chain on his bike broke.

He’d been going along pretty good when suddenly the pedals offered no resistance and he could hear something clicking and

whacking down by his ankles, and he looked down and saw that the chain had snapped.

And I put out eight bucks for this thing , he thought.

Charlie wobbled the bike to the shoulder, got off, and inspected the damage. There was no way he could fix this. The bike

was toast. He let it fall to the gravel shoulder.

He was in the middle of nowhere and in another hour it would be dark.

For the first time since embarking on this adventure, Charlie was scared. He didn’t know what to do. He had to get to Lucknow. He’d come too far to give up now. Would he hitchhike the rest of the way? No, he couldn’t do that. No one was going to pick up a kid unless it was to take him to the police station.

Or something much, much worse. Charlie was a kid from New York. He knew the stories.

Maybe someone nice would come along and take him and the bike to a repair shop. Except they’d all be closed now, and anyway, Charlie didn’t

have any money left.

He started to cry.

Up ahead, he could hear a vehicle approaching. There hadn’t been a lot of traffic on this road, and there was no telling when

the next car might go by. Should he take a chance and flag it down, ask for help? He knew there were risks doing something

like that.

So, no, he wouldn’t flag down the car, which had almost reached him. He’d find another tree to sleep under and in the morning

contemplate his next move. Wasn’t that something his mom would say to him sometimes? “Things will look better in the morning.”

The driver of the car must have spotted him, because it was slowing down. And as it got closer, Charlie could see that it

wasn’t a car, but a white van.

The van pulled over to the shoulder on the other side of the road and the driver powered down his window.

“You okay, kid?”

Charlie stopped crying long enough to say, “I’m okay.”

“Your bike broken?”

Charlie nodded.

“You a long way from home?”

Charlie didn’t say anything.

“I get it. You’re not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Charlie nodded again.

“But I’m not really a stranger,” the man said, “if I know your dad.”

Charlie felt an uncertain swelling of hope in his heart.

“I’m betting you’re on your way to Lucknow,” the driver said. It was at this point Charlie noticed the man was wearing a funny

engineer’s hat and a vest with patches all over it.

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “That’s where I’m going.”

“Well, that’s where I’m going, too. Actually, it’s where I’m coming from , but I can turn around right here and head back. It’s not that far. You’ve come a long ways.”

Charlie was wondering how the man would know that. He hadn’t told him where he’d started out from.

“Truth is,” the man said, “I was expecting you, and then I started to worry that even for a boy like you, who’s been training

so hard on his bike, it’d be a long haul, so I decided to come meet you along the way. Now, I understand if you’re worried

about getting in the van with me. I bet your mom’s told you not to do something that dumb, but we’re not really strangers

if I already know your name, right, Charlie?”

Charlie smiled. The man had a point.

“Hop in and I’ll take you to Lucknow. Your dad can’t wait to see you.”

Charlie had stopped crying, but now he was ready to start again. Only this time they’d be tears of joy running down his cheek.

He could feel himself being drawn toward the van. This guy knew him, knew where he was going and why. And he couldn’t have

come along at a better time.

“I guess... it would be okay,” Charlie said, and grabbed the bike by the handlebars, getting ready to wheel it across the

road.

“You can leave that,” the man said. “You’re not going to need it anymore. You won’t need that backpack, either.”

Charlie paused, looked at the bike that had served him so well up to now. But it really had reached the end of the road. He

let it fall, then flung his backpack into the ditch.

“Come around and hop in.”

Charlie hardly needed to since there were no other cars on the road, but out of habit looked both ways before he crossed,

ran around the front of the van to the passenger door, reached up for the handle, pulled it open, and climbed in.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” the man said. “My name is Edwin.”

“Hi, Edwin,” Charlie said.

“You know what would be fun? You try to name all the railroad patches I’ve got on my vest.”

Charlie grinned. That did sound like fun.