you named it the reckoning, in your perfect notebook lettering
The next couple of days passed without incident. Slick spent most of her time lurking around the shed, bothering and being bothered by whoever was home. It turned out that Hydra, when not talking about hydrogen (a side effect of the lab, she now knew) wasn’t terrible company. He was still annoyingly environmentally friendly, but also had a refreshingly positive outlook on life.
He was probably the nicest out of all of them, which was good- someone needed to be and it wasn’t going to be her.
It was mostly because of this that she enlisted his help in making it to the coaches shed- she trusted that he wouldn’t tell anyone what she was up to, and didn’t ask too many questions about why she wanted to go there. So, one afternoon, they set out.
Slick had pestered the others about the train schedule. Momma was the yardmaster and would have a copy of the schedule, having worked on it with Control, but going to her would have undoubtedly caused some questions she didn’t want to answer. But she had finally gotten her hands on it, and knew Dinah had a free day, so, as per Greaseball’s suggestion, she would talk to the dining car.
Hydra left her at the front door of the coach shed. She knew that Dinah would be alone, the others were out on their routes for the day, so she didn’t hesitate to knock, trying to ignore the trepidation she felt. The door swung open, and there stood Dinah.
“Oh, Slick! Hello!” She looked surprised to see the oil truck- clearly Greaseball hadn’t mentioned that she might stop by.
“Hey Dinah. Could I come in?”
“Of course! Welcome!”
Slick had never been inside the coach shed before. It was…nice. There were colored floor lamps that cast light across the space in multicolored patterns, and plants everywhere- vases of flowers and pots of greenery on every available surface, metal stars dotting the walls, and a braided rag rug in every color imaginable on the floor. There was ample seating as well- plush armchairs and a sofa big enough to seat all of the inhabitants of the shed, if they so choose. Slick felt painfully out of place, like if she touched anything it would mar the decor irreparably, and for a moment she simply stood there, unsure of what to do.
“Please, feel free to take a seat!” called the dining coach. She had sped over to the kitchen after ushering Slick in, and seemed to be in the process of making something, though Slick had no idea what it was. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, and headed back to Slick, taking a seat on one of the comfy armchairs facing the sofa.
“How’s your leg doing?”
Uh, it's alright.” It hurt like a bitch, but Slick wasn’t gonna mention it, though she did take a seat on the sofa gratefully. But she wasn’t here for small talk- she had answers to get. “So…Greaseball said I should come by, and ask you about the thermos. She said you made it for me?”
“I did! Do you not like it? I can repaint it if you want something changed, it would be no trouble.”
What? “No it’s fine, I just- why?”
Dinah suddenly looked nervous. “Well- I know you don’t like the cold very much, I figured that this would be something you could use to warm you up. I’d been meaning to give it to you for a while, I just- hadn’t worked up the courage.”
Courage? To talk to Slick. She grit her teeth. That was laughable. Unaware of her rising annoyance, Dinah continued.
“Honestly, I’ve always been a little intimidated by you, but I admire you a lot. I mean, I don’t do anything like what you do, our jobs are so different- and you do it so well.” She laughed lightly, “You and the rest of the freight. I couldn’t imagine hauling fuel like that.”
“And-” here Dinah paused, twisting her fingers, her words coming out hesitant and stuttered. “After the races, Greaseball mentioned that she thought you might-maybe- like her-” Oh no. “-and that she was interested-” Liar. “-and I wasn’t really sure how you felt about me , and- well- I like you Slick, just as much as I like Greaseball.” she finished with a shy smile, and Slick seethed.
That was a step too far. She had been wary of Dinah from the start, curious as to what the dining car’s capacity for cruelty truly was. Now, she had her answer.
Is this a joke?” she snapped.
“What? No, no, I-”
“You what? Play nice with the oil tanker, get her to lower her guard so you can laugh about it with your friends? She’s just a stupid truck, it’ll be easy to get her to trust you!”
Dinah looked horrified. “Slick, no-” but Slick cut her off, unwilling to hear another lie.
“I’ve heard you! I’ve heard you and the others making fun of me and my brothers- how we’re dumb, how we would never be able to be passenger facing like you lot! Well, I’m so sorry that I’m not a perfect little coach like you, but we are just as important! We’ve heard you say it! We’ve all heard you!”
It didn’t bother Porter and Lumber as much, and Hydra hadn’t understood enough to care- but she did, on their behalf, and it hurt. It hurt to know that she and her brothers were written off as dumb, and it hurt now to have to bring it all out into the open.
Well-” here Dinah looked conflicted, twisting her hands, “-you have to admit it is a bit of a silly song-”
That was the final straw.
“We don’t sing it because it's clever!” Slick exploded. “We sing it because it helps us keep time on the track, which you would know if you actually cared!”
It was a tradition between freights, and one that Porter and Lumber had introduced her to, the three of them later introducing Hydra to it as well. Like humans on ships, who used shanties to keep time when working, freight would do the same. Slick would be the first to say it wasn’t their best work, but it was easy to remember, and had a beat to help them move their cargo.
“I,” Dinah looked shaken, and Slick, despite her anger, felt her inner workings twist horribly. She had put that look on the dining car’s face. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll bet you are.” she spat. She was done. “Sorry I wasn’t so dumb as to believe you at face value, to think you- and Greaseball- stars, that I was so dumb as to like you-” her voice cracked on the last part, and she cut herself off, leaving only ringing silence. Her eyes burned.
And there was the last lie she had told, even to herself. She liked Greaseball, always had, but she also liked Dinah. Dinah, pink and blue and perfect, always free with her affection, and practically glowing with happiness constantly. Everything Slick envied and admired and loved, just as much as she loved Greaseball’s confidence and determination.
“Slick…” Cautiously, Dinah drew nearer, and Slick bolted upright, rolling backwards to maintain their distance.
“Don’t- don’t touch me.” she stammered, and Dinah froze, hand outstretched.
They stayed like that, staring at each other- Slick, breathing hard and on the verge of panic, and Dinah, wide-eyed and surprised. They might have stayed like that all night (Slick certainly didn’t plan on saying anything else), when the door to the shed swung open.
It was Greaseball, of course it was. The universe had conspired to thoroughly fuck her over. The diesel engine didn’t look surprised to see Slick there, but her brow furrowed when she saw the position the two were in.
“Is everything alright?” she asked slowly.
“Fine” Slick managed.
Get out.
She had to leave.
Getoutgetoutgetout.
“Slick-” Dinah tried again.
But Slick wasn’t willing to wait to hear what was left to say. She spun around and dashed out the door, and Greaseball made no move to stop her.
She heard her name being called, but paid it no mind. It didn’t matter anymore- everything was out in the open now, and they both saw that she was just a pathetic little tanker- one who had yet to learn her place.
She sped as fast as she could between sheds and warehouses, uncaring of the undoubtable damage she was doing to her leg. She was cold, freezing even- but between the pain in her leg and the stinging in her eyes, she barely noticed.