FanFic:Sodor Academy Part Six: February

Next Part: Part Seven

Previous Part: Part Five

The sixth part of Sodor Academy, a Thomas the Tank Engine fan fiction.

Story

After several weeks, the snows started to subside. Classes were back on their normal schedule, and the school was running well.

One morning, as Thomas was looking at his "Classic British Trains" calender, he noticed something.

"Oh no."

"What?" called Percy, who was reading a book.

"Today's the thirteenth."

"So?"

"Tomorrow is Valentine's Day!"

"Oh right. Hatt gave us the day off."

"Do you realize what this means?"

"Absolutely nothing, unless you let the cheesy commercialism convince you that you need a date?"

"I need a date!"

Unfortunately for Thomas, there were no girls who were willing to date him.

"Will I die alone?" he asked in desperation.

"Thomas, don't worry about it. You're fifteen."

The students were lined up at the yards, waiting for work assignments.

"Thomas, a mainline engine's broken down. I need you to take the milk train with Rosie. No runaways this time."

As Thomas pulled the engine out of the shed, he wondered about Rosie. They didn't have any classes together, and rarely saw each other on campus.

He found out soon enough. Rosie was shy and withdrawn, but did her work without fuss. They reached the dairy without one word being spoken. On the way back, Thomas felt uncomfortable.

"So, where are you from?"

"I lived in the south. My parents were American, but they both died. I was adopted by another family"

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right. How about you?"

"I live in London with my parents and sisters. My mom says I'm related to a designer named Billinton. I might as well be, as I'm building one of his designs, an E2."

"I'm doing an American Dock Tank. Both engines worked at Southampton Harbor, I read."

"Yeah."

The idle chatter went on for a little while, when there was a loud racket from the front of the engine.

"What's happening?" asked Rosie in alarm.

"Sand box must be empty."

"I'll do it," said Rosie, grabbing the sand bag. She leaped nimbly out of the cab and onto the sideplates. From what Thomas could see from the window, Rosie was moving as quickly as she could along the side of the engine. The girl had nerve!

Soon the sandbox was full, and the mechanism was running well. Rosie was on her way back. She was just climbing onto the footprint when she slipped. Thomas watched in horror as she hung from the handrail, her grip slipping as she tried to keep herself from falling onto the rails.

Thomas reached forward and grabbed her hand. With great effort, he pulled her to safety. She stood for a few seconds, catching her breath, then grabbed the shovel.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Hey . . . Please don't tell Mr. Hatt. I know I was reckless, but . . . I-"

"I understand."

So much for conversation. They arrived at Sodor Junction just a few minutes later, and returned the engine without incident. Thomas went to sleep thinking about the small girl who had been so daring.

The next morning, Thomas slept late, thankful for the day off. Percy shook him repeatedly, and when that didn't work, dumped a glass of water on his head. That got Thomas up.

"What was that for?"

"It's ten o'clock, slowcoach."

Keeping himself from punching his friend, Thomas got dressed and walked out onto the campus. There wasn't much to see. Most of the snows had melted, but the trees hadn't budded and the flowers hadn't sprouted.

Thomas was on the main plaza, thinking about the oddly overcast weather, when he bumped into someone and landed on the ground in a heap.

"Oops, sorry."

He looked up. It was Rosie. He marveled at how the wiry girl had been able to knock him over so easily, before noticing she was carrying a large sheet of steel.

He got up, and brushed himself off. "What are you doing with that thing?"

"Working on my engine. Day off, I know, but I've got nothing to do."

Thomas had an idea. "You don't have a date?"

"Nah."

"Well . . . I don't really have anything to do either. Maybe, you know, we could have lunch in the village, as friends?"

Her face lit up. "That would be great. Meet you at twelve thirty?"

"Sure."

Thomas was walking by the shops on main street when he saw Rosie walking down the road. He checked his watch. Twelve thirty, on the dot.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Where do you want to eat?"

"I don't know. Hey, I know a place down by the station. Great food."

"That sounds fine."

They walked silently. Rosie was a very shy person, and withdrawn. That didn't mean she wasn't nice. Just . . . distant. Not at all like Emily or Polly.

They sat down to lunch at a table by the platform. They chatted idly about their engines and friends, well, Thomas' friends, and ate their lunch. They were just finishing up when he heard a voice behind him.

"Hello, Thomas."

Thomas nearly jumped out of his seat. It was Polly! He had forgotten that she worked here. He nervously turned to face Rosie.

"Rosie, this is my friend Polly."

Rosie looked up from the newspaper she had picked up. "Hello, Polly."

Thomas sensed tension. "I'd better go pay." He hurried away from the table. He had to get himself and Rosie out of there as soon as possible. He hadn't seen Polly's temper, but it was best not to tempt fate.

When he got back, the two girls were talking like old friends. Except that Polly's left eye was twitching slightly. She was clearing the table, and it was a miracle the glass she was holding wasn't broken.

Rosie was cheerfully oblivious, and telling Polly about how her life in the Academy.

"Rosie, let's go."

"What, oh, of course. Goodbye, Polly. It was nice to meet you."

As they were heading towards the door, Rosie spoke up. "Thomas, did you see this article in paper? It was talking about how a criminal escaped from jail. It called him 'Diesel 10'. What a funny name . . ."

There was a muffled sob from behind them, followed by a a horrible smash. They both turned around. Polly was standing over the table, which was lying on its side. The other diners were gazing upon the scene in surprise.

Polly, with clenched fists, stormed out of the restaurant, slamming the door behind her.

Thomas found her by an old shed beside the station. She was staring down the track, where a plume of smoke was rising on the distant horizon as the express approached town.

Thomas had walked out with Rosie into the street, and then let her head back to the Academy. Thankfully, she didn't say anything about Polly's behavior.

Thomas gingerly walked up beside her. "I'm sorry."

She stared at him. "About what?"

"Rosie. I didn't know . . ."

"No, Thomas. It wasn't that. Or at least it wasn't mostly that."

"What, then?"

"Do you remember what Rosie said about the criminal escaping?"

"Diesel 10?"

"Yes. Well, he was my brother."

"What?"

"My dad owned the Academy, with Mr. Hatt. Never had time for me, really. But he loved me. Mr. Hatt watched over us more. He was like an uncle to D and I."

"D?"

"My nickname for my brother. His name was Rudolph Diesel Gladstone."

"Rudolph Diesel?"

She gave a rueful smile. "My dad had an affinity for weird names. Like mine. Lady Polly Gladstone. 'Lively Polly', he'd call me. After a little engine he'd seen."

She fell silent. Thomas hated to ask, but he had questions. "What about Diesel 10?"

"He was enrolled in the Academy. You've probably heard his story. He showed me the claw, when he was making the engine. Gave me rides in it." Again the rueful smile.

"I was pretty young when he tested his engine. But I remember that day like it was yesterday. He showed off the claw. It was grabbing a metal girder when it got a workman instead. Tore up his arm and head. But D didn't admit it was his fault. Said the man had gotten in the way. He went crazy when he heard his engine, his pride and joy, would be torn up. That night, he came into my room with a box of matches and a container of kerosene. Kissed me on my forehead and told me everything would be all right. My dad was in the workshop that evening."

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I saw the smoke, I heard the sirens. But I couldn't figure out why Dad didn't come back."

"After the funeral, Mr. Hatt gave me a home at the station. The fire had taken so much of the school's money that he couldn't afford to take care of me himself. He watched over me from the Academy, and that's what I needed. He's a good man. But he stopped visiting. He didn't greet me, or let me know he was there for me."

She paused. "Sometimes, I wonder if he's forgotten me. Just like Dad, just like D . . ."

She started crying in earnest. Thomas put a reassuring arm around her, and she collapsed in his arms. There was a rattle and a roar as the two o'clock express roared through the station. They were covered in soot and ashes as it passed. Then it disappeared into the distance.

They stood there, like that, for a little while. Then Polly pulled herself away. She had stopped crying, but her face was red. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"I understand."

They looked at each other, both covered in black soot. Polly stared into his eyes, then looked away.

She stared after the express, as if making a decision. Then she turned to Thomas.

"There's something else you need to know."

"What?"

Polly opened the doors of the shed.

"This."

There was a little 0-4-0T with tiny side tanks and an open cab, painted purple with Lady written in flowing handwriting on the side. 

"My dad built this with me."

"I'm sorry-' Lady cut him off.

"No. Come here."

She headed into the cab. She pointed to a small compartment. There was a keyhole and beisde it, a lock like you might find on a breif case, with a passowrd four letters long.

"My dad hid something in there the night he died, right after the tests. I don't know what it is, or what the combination is. But I do know about this."

She held up a small key that hung from her neck.

"You need the key and the combination to open it. This is why D escaped from jail. He doesn't want revenge. He wants whatever's in this box. I don't want him to get it. Which is why"

She pulled it off.

"I'm giving it to you."

Thomas was taken aback. "Are you sure?"

"More than anything." She put it around his neck. They stared at each other.

Polly looked away. "You ought to be getting back to the Academy."

There were several hours left, but Thomas didn't say anything.

"But before you go," she added, "let me show you a magic trick."

With a flourish of her hand, she smiled and put her hand on Thomas' shoulder. Almost instantly, his shirt was spotless. He looked at her incredulously.

"How did you do that? That was no card trick!"

"A good magician never reveals her secrets."

Thomas turned to leave. "Goodbye, Polly."

She smiled. "Call me Lady."