A Game of Colours

Chapter 42: Cowards, Cowards, Everywhere.

I sprint as fast as my legs can carry me to the alley where I sat only hours before, eating bread with a stranger. Only he wasn't a stranger--he was Alex Sawyer, the love of Lewis' life, and he was right in front of me. I am giddy just thinking of how excited she will be to see him again, and him her.

If only Jarrah had come back the way Alex did, I think sadly. But we can't all have a happily ever after. 

The clouds have since thickened in the sky, bringing with them an onslaught of falling snow. It is cold, and I do not take to the winter well, being raised in the hot Mississippi sunshine. I shudder strongly, trying to keep all my layers together as I scan the streets for Alex. The freshly fallen snow crunches under my feet, and I am careful not to slip under the pure white crystals. It blows harshly across the town of Preston, layering the streets in fresh blankets with every hour. 

Finally reaching the street, I scan the scene eagerly searching for him. My body fills with worry when I see that he is not among the homeless people here. The cold people bundled up against the brick walls stare at me curiously. I remind myself to thank Jim another time for letting me stay in his safe house. I could just as easily have ended up among these people, reduced to cold beggers by a society that rejects them.

"Is Alex Sawyer among you?" I ask desperately.  They all look away, obliviously avoiding eye contact with me. I frown deeply.

One old woman's eyes flicker with recognition upon hearing the name, and I come over to her.

"You know where he is?" I say bluntly.

"That wou' depen' 'oose askin', ma'der. Have ya go' any food for a starvin' ol' lady like mahself?"

"Al--Adelaide," I correct myself quickly, "a friend of his. And no, I haven't."

I subconsciously place my hand over the slight bulge in my jacket where a small section of bread remains. 

"No food? Well, I nev'r 'erd of 'im, then," she says cheekily. 

I roll my eyes and rip off a piece, giving it to her grudgingly.

"Dinch' yer mammy teach yer not to lie to an old lady?" she says between a mouthful of bread, "she's got eyes that see righ' through yer lyin' heart." 

"I haven't got a mother anymore," I say coldly, "now tell me where he is. I've given you your share, now I need mine."

"Ya say yer a friend of Alex Sawyer?"

"I am," I say. 

She laughs boisterously. "Well, ah tell ya this, Sawyer don't got no friends, dearie, so I'm afrai' I cannae help ya."

I stamp my feet impatiently, having no time for her games.

"I need to speak with him urgently. Will you give him a message?"

"Will ya gimme anodder loaf'a bread?" the old woman cackles.

I sigh impatiently. "Would you just--tell him that I solved his problem."

"And how did you do that?" asks a male voice from behind me, tapping my shoulder.

"Jesus--Mary--don't scare me!" I shout, turning around to see a grinning, bearded Alex Sawyer. 

"When did you even get there?"

"I was always here. You'd oughta pay more attention to your surroundings. And hide your bread from these fine folks if you have the nerve to walk through this street carrying it."

I roll my eyes. "I'm learning that very quickly."

"Can I ask how you got my name, love? I don't recall exchanging it with you. I don't tell people addall, except the fine folks of Cobbleton Street 'ere."