CONT'D: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Here | Page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

A few people were beginning to stare, discreetly, at the boy. Petunia met their eyes and quirked her eyebrows ever so slightly, just to indicate that she was not his companion, even though she was sitting beside him, and that she was just as aware of his erratic behavior as they.

The boy fell silent, jiggling his knees in a mismatched rhythm. Everyone on the train was quiet. Petunia could hear the fat man's labored breathing next to her, a hoarse sound that bordered on a wheeze. The boy leaned his elbows on his knees and propped his chin in his hands. He watched the man breathing. The man turned his head pointedly towards the wall. The boy began to laugh - quietly, at first, and then louder, harder, until his skinny body was shaking. Petunia stared at him in alarm. The fat man refused to turn his head, and the boy's laughter became hysterical, high-pitched, almost manic. Petunia couldn't watch him any more. One by one the other passengers looked away, until they had all averted their eyes. Petunia inched to her right, pressing herself against the fat man. Surely he would not mind, given the circumstances. She wished she had never spoken to the boy. She should have simply ignored him, not said a word. He would have left her alone eventually. She should have taken another train, gotten in another car. Her feet ached, her back ached, and she fought to keep from crying. The world, she thought, could really be rotten when it wanted to.

There was a grating sound as the train stopped. Petunia looked up. The boy, oblivious to her presence or anyone else's, pushed angrily to the front of the line of people waiting to get off. He jumped onto the platform and ran, disappearing from her sight.

A shudder of relaxation swept over the passengers remaining in the car. They exchanged relieved smiles in the manner of people who have survived an ordeal together. Petunia slid over and made more room for the man on her right. He smiled, too. "You gotta feel sorry for kids these days," he said. "Kids like that. Nothing better to do than bother people on trains."

"Mm," said Petunia.

"I mean," he continued, "kids like that, they'll never amount to anything. They'll maybe go on welfare, which of course you and I pay for, so they can go out and buy more drugs and booze and knives so they can mug people like you and me for more of our money. Someone should do something about kids like that. Keep them off the streets, put them somewhere, anywhere."

Petunia nodded sympathetically. Please, shut up, she thought. But he didn't.

"I tell you, lady, you're lucky. We're all lucky" - with a sweep of his sausage arm he encompassed the whole car - "the kid was just a maniac, but not an armed homicidal maniac. He could've had a weapon, could've shot us all dead. This is America, right? I shouldn't be scared to go out in the streets. Maniacs should be locked up."

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