Chapter 4

Somehow I made it back to Philadelphia. That's when life began. It's also where I was born and where my parents are buried. I guess maybe I sensed that there was a new beginning for me somewhere around the start. Luckily nobody there recognized me, and the place I had escaped from was more south anyway so I didn't have much to worry about. That and... as far as anybody knew, I was a boy. Definitely not the bar-code that had made her great escape.

I wandered around the grey streets of Philly, lugging behind me the suitcase (containing one stuffed dog and a few hand me downs from a few boys I had lived with) that had served me since I was in New Jersey. I was freezing and wishing that I had somewhere to go or at least a bottle to make the next step worth taking when something provoked me to lift my eyes. When I did, I couldn't help but draw closer to the man that immediately captured my attention.

That was the day I met Cage.

Cage was sitting on the curb right outside of a little restaurant, He was haunched over his guitar, eyes closed, greasy black hair hanging in strands over them. He was rocking gently along with whatever it was that he was playing, some kind of sad, bluesy melody that I had never heard before and didn't recognize. I eventually concluded that he was probably making it up as he went. I inched towards him, assuming that he didn't see me and I'd be able to gawk to my hearts content undetected.

“Hey little sister,” he startled me by saying without opening his eyes. “reach up and grab me that star.
”
I just looked at him, unsure of whether or not he was just speaking out loud along to his music or if he was talking to me. I was also a little afraid that the guy might be nuts.

“Don't fear, little sister.” Cage murmured, his voice a sing-songish tease. “A glint of silver carnage blinds you, blinds us all... it lies in pockets, in yours, in mine... snatch me a star so that you might see.
”
I reached into my pocket, eying him curiously, and pulled out what was left of the money Lacey's patronizing parents had given me.

“Can you do for me?” I asked, letting my change noisily clamor on the sidewalk in front of him. He looked up at me for the first time, calmly. His eyes were bloodshot, making the ice-blue irises stand out startlingly. His hands stopped playing abruptly, letting the hum of the last a-minor resonate and fade into the stillness of the empty street. He grabbed the money without looking from me.

“Indeed, little sister. I can do you well.
”
He stood up, (I realized that his back was bowed forward as though he had some sort of back problem.) and slung his guitar behind him.

“Follow me.” he said gently.

So I did.