Chapter 98

The old-fashioned mini tourist train consisted of the engineer's car pulling two passenger cars with even rows of benches. Open on one side for easy entrance and exit, hard clear plastic formed windows on the outer side.

Rohan eyed the green locomotive. "No."

"Oh yes." I climbed into one of the hard-topped cars, sitting down on the wooden bench. "Come on. The sign on top says it goes back to the square in Old Town." I loved these mini trains, going back to the one in Stanley Park in Vancouver that I rode throughout my childhood. We visited that park year-round and my parents learned to anticipate my pleas to go again. They'd board me with a strip of tickets in my hand so I could ride to my heart's content while they took Ari to feed the goats at the petting zoo next door.

Rohan sat down beside me, unimpressed.

The train started up smoothly enough. Narration about the plaza blasted out through the scratchy speakers. Rohan glowered at me, his hands clapped over his ears.