Lost Game Notes (Novel)

Chapter 5: Key Question

 Alex nearly forgot about the groceries. In fact, he only remembered after he had bid Sky goodbye, admitted the maths lesson had really helped, and began down the side walk. He was content on leaving the mucky neighborhood where it seemed every household was in trouble.

Of course, he had no idea where the nearest supermarket was. It took him a while to find the lumbering, grey building. He kept in mind he had only twenty-five dollars to spend as he racked the shelves for what he thought was needed.

His culinary skills had never been tested through fire before, so even selecting vegetables was a tedious task. Eventually he ended up with a full basket and paid for everything, with one dollar to spare—quite a stroke of luck. He tucked that in his pocket and trudged out of the store grocery-laden, a strange feeling of satisfaction for doing something he had never done before.

Now he trudged down the side walk, shifting the grocery bags from one had to the other to distribute the weight. It was a good time to get his thoughts together. Although he had picked up some good tips from the maths lesson, he had been scatter-brained throughout the entire lesson, thinking about this and that.

Things had really started flipping after that argument between him and Lawrence, sparked by Lawrence grumbling about him "hanging around the wrong crowd". Lawrence, of course, didn't understand Jude was his sole, sworn enemy.

But then again, Lawrence never understood anything. Alex had tried, one or zero-and-a-half times to confide in him about his mother, maths problems, rivals and teenage life in general. Lawrence brushed him off like a fly, making an excuse of being busy, having forms to fill, or being late for a meeting.

The very day after the argument, Dawn had disappeared, gone on this trip to where and to do what Alex wasn't certain. All he had was the letter, which was now in the bottom of the waste basket in his room. So, apart from the promise of the lost notes, he had nothing.

What had the notes said anyway? The first was a quote from somewhere...

And so blessings and curses come pouring out of the same mouth. Surely my brother, this is not right.

It wasn't hard to figure out the mouth belonged to Lawrence the night of their argument. It was as though he was covering up what he really felt with fakery of words and saccharine smiles. But why? By the way his eyes had flared up like a kiln to bake bricks, Alex saw no reason why he would try and hold himself back. The bastard.

And the hint on the back of the letter:

In a shelf of books galore,
There you'll find one note more

Dawn referred to Sky as an endless bookshelf more than once, and if she thought he was too dumb to remember, she had to think again. And if she thought he was too prideful to get over a grudge to rescue the note, she had to think over twice.

Dawn had always been the practical one, much like Sky. This wasn't practical. This was irrational nonsense, running off like that. But even though Alex tried to deny it, he was worried.

A twelve year old girl traipsing America alone wasn't his idea of safe—and certainly wouldn't be for Lawrence either, if he found out. Alex wondered how Lawrence would react if he found out Dawn was good and gone, not just on a field trip. If he didn't care? Alex didn't doubt it. Not one bit.

Alex found himself turning into the back-alley, the shortcut to his house. He didn't often go that way; he was always in need of clearing his head. Besides, when he got home Lawrence would probably be ready and waiting with another complaint he pulled out of a hat.

turning into the yard of his home, slightly out of breath and with a sweat stained shirt. Lawrence car wasn't there, which was just as well. He needed all the time he could to put together dinner.

Alex unloaded the groceries, pulled out his phone and scoured the Internet for an easy recipe. He realized his error soon enough. He should have looked for a recipe before going shopping. With a groan, Alex finally selected a sort of vegetable-chicken dish. Only he would substitute the chicken for mincemeat.

The end result was as close as Alex to get as anything edible; at least it smelled good. So he dried his hands, wiped down the counters, and slumped in a kitchen chair.