I walked down the train aisle and looked for other kids my age traveling alone. I didn’t see any. Every kid was either with a family, or was a teenager. Everyone was talking about what they were going to do in San Diego.
“Mommy! Are we going to see Shamu?”
“Dad, do you think the lions mind being in a zoo?”
“Can I pet a dolphin, Nanny? Can I?”
I smiled as I found empty seats. I slid over to the window and listened to the conversations. I loved the silly questions little kids asked the grown-ups. My eyes focused on the train station. The cement building glared in the harsh sunlight. The conductor called, “All aboard!” and the train moved.
Just then a kid ran through the station doors, waving a ticket in one hand and clutching a duffel bag in the other. He yelled, “Wait! Wait!” I watched him run. He was fast.
The train didn’t stop, but it didn’t speed up. With the help of one of the conductors, the kid grabbed a handrail and leaped into a car. My car.
I looked over the top of the seat in front of me and watched the kid thank the guy who helped him. “Thanks a lot, man. The next train isn’t until noon, and I have to be on my way to Tijuana by then. You saved me a lot of hassle.”
Tijuana. That’s where I was going. Just as I turned back to my window daydreaming, the boy eased into the aisle seat next to me. He was still panting and clutching his ticket. He turned and smiled at me. He had very dark skin and shaggy black hair under his California Angels baseball cap. It was one of the old-fashioned kind. It didn’t have a halo. His teeth were white and straight, but I knew he had never worn braces. “Hi, is anyone sitting here?” he asked.
“No,” I answered. Not that it mattered, since he had already sat down. I wasn’t sure if I should encourage conversation with a stranger, even if he looked only a few years older than I was. I knew that could be dangerous. On the other hand, we were going to the same place, and maybe he could even help me out. Besides, he had a nice smile.
“I can’t believe I caught the train. I was so afraid I was gonna miss it. I made my mom run two red lights. Boy, was she mad!” He slid his duffel bag under the seat in front of him and then extended his hand. “Tony.”
“Hi, I’m Cesi.” I took his hand. He had the slight accent particular to kids whose parents were from Mexico, but the kids were born here. It was perfect English with a slightly richer sound, as if they used their whole mouths, all the letters in the alphabet too. I always liked that sound.
“Where are you headed? You’re all by yourself, right?” He craned his head around to look at the other seats.
“Uh, I’m headed to Tijuana. I’ve got some family business to take care of there.” I didn’t think it was very smart to say I was on my own, even if he did have a nice accent.
“I’m going there too, to see my aunt. Actually, she lives a little outside of T.J. on a small farm. I haven’t seen her in a while . . . so, you know, a little field trip sounded good.” He smiled again.
“Sounds familiar,” I answered.
“So Cesi, your name is short for Cecilia, right?”
“Yep.” I readied myself for the usual question that came from native Spanish speakers.
“So you must be part Mexican, right?” he asked.
“My dad.” People always felt it was okay to question someone’s ethnicity, even when they hardly knew them. I subtracted two points from Tony.
“I bet a lot of people ask you that, right?” he asked apologetically.
“You can say that.” I hoped I didn’t sound rude.
“It must get annoying,” he said.
“It does.”
He smiled at me again, “Sorry if I annoyed you.”
I smiled back. He just earned a point back. “It’s okay.”
“You know what question I find most annoying? ‘Tony, do you speak Spanish?’” He shook his head and leaned back in his seat.
“Do you?” I asked.
“Ha. You got me back. Sí, señorita. ¿Y tú?”
I shook my head. The only Spanish I knew I picked up from Sesame Street and Mr. Muñoz, my Spanish teacher. I could say “my knee hurts” Me duele la rodilla.
“Well, you’re going across the border, aren’t you? I better give you a crash course, or who knows how you’re going to get around. It’s the least I can do after asking the second-most-annoying question in the world.”
“What’s the first?” I asked, relaxing as I added one more point to his score.
“Is anyone sitting here?” he asked.
We laughed together.