The Little Winston

Chapter 2- I Take A Trip Halfway Across The Country

I woke up from my nap by slamming my head against the window as we suddenly jolted to a stop, and as the people around me started to filter out of the door, I started to feel the bruise forming on my forehead. I got up as quickly as possible, still the last one off the train, and I realized a very important fact. I had no fucking idea where I was going. The postcard never had an address.

But after careful thought, if my brother was still the same person as he was in New York, he had already made a name for himself in this small speck of a town.

The people seemed to separate like oil in water, segregated not only by race but by social status. They made no effort in hiding this fact either, each struggling to keep to their own sides of the sidewalk. I learned immediately who the richer class was, as they tended to wear madras and skirts, while the what I assumed was lower tended to sport leather jackets and hair product.

I didn't waste time talking to the first. They'd spit on me before I had the chance to even open my mouth. I opted for the latter, as I understood them better. They seemed to know Dallas by "Dally" or "Winston", names that seemed vaguely familiar to me. He had always been Dallas to me.

They told me he was either at a certain house address, or at a small bar known as Buck's. I didn't feel like going for a drink at 3 in the afternoon, so I took their directions.

The farther north I went, the worse the houses seem to get, all needing new shutters, paint jobs, fences, or just about anything a house could need. Graffiti was scrawled in messy lettering across almost every store, but that wasn't new to me. Graffiti was considered an art form where I was from.

A few boys whistled and attempted to talk to me while I walked, but with a devilish glare, I managed to shake a few off my tail pretty easily. Others took more convincing, but it still wasn't difficult. They seemed to understand my message quite clearly.

Soon enough, I was stationed at the door of the house, my heart threatening to jump out of my chest. Maybe he didn't want to see me. Maybe he wouldn't even remember me. Maybe he would remember me, and he would tell me that I was the reason he left home. I reasoned that at this point, I didn't have too many options. I inhaled sharply and knocked, my hands shaking all the while.

A few seconds later, a boy came to the door. He looked somewhat young, perhaps 14 or 15, with a reddish hue to his hair and sea green eyes. His hair was intricately styled with what looked like grease, and he wore a sweatshirt with a pair of jeans. He looked nice enough, but too innocent to be friends with Dallas. "Can I help you?"

"Um, yeah." My voice was somewhat crackly and I stared at the ground, a habit I had gotten into when I was younger that I hadn't figured out how to shake. "I'm looking for Dallas Winston, and someone said I could find him here."

"Uh, give me a minute." He closed the door rather quickly and I sat myself on the old swing by the door, looking at the small yard in front of me. It seemed well-kept compared to other ones on the block.

After about 5 minutes, I gathered that he most likely wasn't coming back, and started to walk in the direction of the bar, hoping my luck would be better there than waiting here.

"Nicole?" The familiar ring made my spine tingle. I turned around and ran back through the gate, into the boys arms.