Free BlackWind by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

already striding away.
    * * * *
    “Uncle Dermot is mad enough as it is about this whole situation,” Bobby commented as the two young men walked to their first class. “He wouldn't like Bronnie defending Cullen like that.”
    Dave sighed. “I don't like it, either.”
    “Then what are we going to do about it?”
    “I don't know that there's anything we can do.”
    Bobby looked into the chemistry lab as they passed. His eyes were hard and his mouth tight. “Oh, I don't know about that...”
    * * * *
    Sean frowned when he saw Bronnie walking purposefully toward him. He lifted his bike out of the rack and angled it away from her. Determined to leave before she could reach him, he threw his leg over the seat and pedaled only a few feet before her angry shout brought him to a stop.
    “I'll follow your ass to work, Cullen! We are gonna talk!”
    Cursing beneath his breath, he slid his feet from the pedals and stood bracing the bicycle between his legs, waiting for her to join him. He turned an annoyed face to her. “Why don't you tell the whole school, Bronwyn?” he snapped, his nasal tone making his voice sound mean.
    She ignored his waspish remark and reached out to touch his injured face. When he jerked his head away, she lowered her hand. “Why are you mad at me?” she asked, embarrassment clouding her face.
    He sighed heavily. “I'm not mad at you, but you know we can't be seen talking together! You know what your father said.”
    “I don't give a rat's ass what Daddy said!”
    “Well, you won't be the one going to jail, will ya?” he returned with more heat than he intended. At the look of hurt on her face, he cupped her chin in his hand. “This isn't good, Sweeting.”
    She smiled at the endearment. “I had to talk to you. I had to see how you were.” She scanned his battered face. “You look awful.”
    “Hey, don't mince words, now,” he teased, letting go of her. “Tell me exactly how you feel.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Will you be serious?” She extended her hand to his face once more. When he didn't pull away, she lightly touched his swollen nose. “That looks like it hurts.”
    Sean looked past her and saw Bobby Thompson watching them from the corner of the gym. He met Thompson's narrowed gaze for a moment, then looked at Bronnie. “It looks worse than it is. I gotta go. I'll be late for work.”
    “You're sure you're all right?” she asked, biting her lip.
    “Yeah.” He glanced at Thompson again, then lowered his voice. “Don't do this again, okay? We're being watched.”
    Bronnie turned and snorted. “I can handle Bobby.”
    Sean didn't reply. He could feel Thompson's open hostility like a slimy wet coat plastered to his back. He absently shrugged, the feeling wearing on his nerves. “Gotta go.”
    “I like that shirt,” she said, as if stalling for time, trying to keep him there. “Is it new?”
    He looked down at the pale yellow shirt. “Yeah, I bought it myself.”
    “It looks good on you.”
    “Coach Hie said only queers wear pastel shirts.”
    “Most of your shirts are pastels, aren't they?”
    “I like light colors,” he defended, glancing around.
    “Doesn't make you queer, though. So why do you wear blue and yellow shirts?
    He stared at her. “Because dark colors depress me. Where is this going, Bronwyn?”
    “Grownups say a lot of things that make no sense. Just ‘cause they're grownups doesn't mean they're always right.”
    “Oh, I see,” he said with a grimace. “We're back to not paying any attention to what your father said.”
    “Remember what I said, Sean. Try to come up with a way we can see one another without prying eyes being there to spy.”
    He nodded. “That's all I ever do.”
    “Don't forget you promised to take me to the prom.”
    “Ah, Bronnie, no. That wouldn't be...”
    “You promised!” she said, her eyes flashing. “And I'm holding you to that promise!”
    “We'll see.” He glanced one last time at Bobby Thompson. “I gotta go,