The Winter Rivals

Chapter 2| Switzerland & Cherry red 57's

26th September 2008
The world below me resembled something out of The NeverEnding Story. There was nothing more surreal than being up in the same sky that holds the sun, moon, and the stars. The same sky that holds ferocious storms and lets them swirl, icy flakes of crisp white snow, and oceans of rain that could drown a person had there been enough to fall at once.

I watched in awe as we flew over Little Venice, and wondered how long it'd be until I was back in Maida Vale with my oversweetened but somehow still bland cup of coffee from the Cafe-Theatre, while overlooking the canal boats. Although I was eternally grateful to have such an opportunity to fly to Spiez, Switzerland, I was still left with a bittersweet taste in my mouth, knowing that at the end of a long, hard day, I wouldn't be returning to my Ivy-ridden apartment where all my precious books resided.

Many tedious hours had passed, and we were all stood outside the bustling airport with our luggage in hand, waiting impatiently for Rowen Miley to finally arrive and collect us out of the harsh whirling winds of Spiez. It wasn't so much the plane ride that was responsible for all those tedious hours. It was more so the aggravatingly slow wait for Rowen's arrival, as we were left waiting in the tree splitting winds.

"How much longer?" Tora whined out dramatically, pulling on the ends of her red hair to hold it down in the wind.
Mariam began mumbling underneath her breath with words I couldn't quite make out. She was frustrated with the wait just as we all were, but still she reassured Tora that it shouldn't be too much longer.
Arriving shortly after Tora's whinging, was Rowen.

I thought he would've arrived in some kind of sleek, top model of the year Mercedes Benz or a Le-Blanc Mirabeau. Something that screamed, "I'm swimming in money," or "I have more money than I know what to do with." That was the case, as the car did in fact scream both of those things. However, to an uneducated person or an unfazed child who would refer to it as old and not think twice, they wouldn't seem to agree.

Rowen swooped in, driving a cherry red 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air convertible. Embarrassingly, but understandably, my jaw was open so wide he probably could've actually parked the car in there.
I know this because he told me so, and might I add, it was as painfully awkward as it sounds.

"This is insane!", Tora whispered with excitement.
Mariam couldn't help but chuckle, "thank me later".
Rowen slipped out of his car and helped us with our luggage.

Only moments later, we were swerving and winding around the glistening snow blankets that I struggled to remember were roads. We all sat quietly, taking in the shimmering slopes and mountains of Switzerland.
Breaking the comfortable silence, Rowen's voice came out soft and low.
"Jess is not the most cooperative at times, but if you can get him to talk, I advise you to make the most of your questions," He glanced up at me in the rearview mirror and shot me a small smile.

Hearing those words only made me more determined to get him to talk. As a child, I kept my own story locked away, not a soul could coax it out of me. But when I finally let it out, it felt like taking that first deep breath of fresh air.
With the world seemingly against Jess, he too needed that breath of fresh air, and I felt an urgent pull to delve deeper into his world. I knew that if Jess was only going to answer questions in dribs and drabs to begin with, I needed to make use of the little time I had with his brother.

Tugging at the zips of my Tassia leather bag, I pulled out my old vintage journal that my mother had gifted me one year at Christmas.

"Where did Jess get his name from?" I asked causally, in attempts of him not questioning the notes I was scribbling down. Rowen gave a hard swallow and stared ahead at the frozen road. "He was named after our father." I knew from then that if I wanted any more answers out of him, I needed to make sure he was comfortable with me first. And judging by his easy-going nature, that would be fairly simple. Jess, on the other hand? Not so much.

I examined Rowen closely in attempts of figuring out what kind of people we were working with. His long, ashy blonde hair cascaded in gentle waves, framing his warm brown eyes. Each feature of his face made him seem approachable and easy to talk to. As i pondered on the nature of Jess's brother, I couldn't help but wonder, if Rowen appeared to be this relaxed, how bad could jess himself really be?