Free Black Feathers by Robert J. Wiersema Page A

through the half-steamed glass.
    The snow had started to stick, a brittle skiff on the concrete that crunched under her feet. The wind sliced up the gap between her shoes and pants, chilling her lower legs.
    The sidewalks were nearly deserted, and none of the people she passed even noticed her. Their own heads were bent, their eyes focused on the snowy ground.
    It was getting dark, but unlike the day before, there was already a crowd in the breezeway next to City Hall, small clusters of people hunkered out of the wind, wrapped in threadbare blankets, huddled together for warmth. Standing in theshadows of Centennial Square, Cassie scanned the area slowly for Skylark. She looked again and again, even as the snow whipped around her.
    “Why don’t you come in?”
    The voice was soft, but Cassie jumped and turned.
    Brother Paul lowered both his hands slowly, palms down. There was something in the simple action that was soothing, and it took Cassie a moment to recognize: it was the same movement the minister at home used to signal the congregation to take their seats.
    “You don’t have to stand out here in the cold, you know,” he said.
    “I know,” she said. “I was—”
    “Waiting for your friend.”
    “Yes.”
    “Why don’t you come in,” he repeated, opening his arms, gesturing toward the camp with his right, lifting his left as if he meant to guide her with a touch on her back.
    Cassie took a half-step away.
    “The Outreach van will be here soon. And I’m sure Skylark will be back.” He paused. “Ah …” He nodded toward the breezeway.
    The volume of murmuring from the camp rose as Skylark moved from group to group, embracing people, laughing, talking loudly.
    “Blessed be, Dorothy,” Brother Paul murmured as he drifted away.
    Watching Skylark in the distance, Cassie barely heard him.
    She looked distracted and kept glancing around. She would look over the shoulder of whoever she was embracing, andbetween groups she deliberately turned around, scanning the breezeway.
    Was she looking for Cassie?
    She dismissed the thought—Skylark knew everyone. She was probably looking for Brother Paul, or for a friend.
    Cassie drifted slowly toward the camp. She didn’t want to seem like she was rushing or trying to make an entrance. She didn’t want to look stupid or—
    “Dorothy!”
    Skylark turned away from the group she was talking to and almost ran across the breezeway toward her, swooping her into a tight hug without another word.
    “How did it go?” she bubbled, stepping back slightly. “Was that a good spot? Did you stay warm enough? What about that snow? Oh, I’ve had a day you wouldn’t believe,” she said without a breath. “Come on,” she said. “We can catch up.”
    As they turned, the entire camp seemed to stir. Cassie could dimly pick out the sound of a rough engine as everyone started to move toward the loading zone in front of City Hall.
    “Dinner first,” Skylark said, guiding them into the crowd.
    Cassie almost walked into the shadow that stopped in front of her, blocking her path.
    “Well, look who it is.”
    The words stopped her in place.
    It was the dreadlocked boy from the McDonald’s, with two of his friends.
    “I was hoping I would see you again.”
    Even in the half-light she could see the smirk on the boy’s face, the smiles of his friends. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, drawing out the word as he turned to Skylark.
    “What the fuck is it to you?” Skylark snarled through a wide smile.
    One of the boys snorted.
    “Skylark,” Cassie whispered.
    Skylark stayed perfectly still, her smile etched on her face, drawn back over her teeth.
    The boy with the dreadlocks grinned.
    “So, just ‘bitch,’ then?”
    The other boys laughed; Skylark didn’t move.
    She didn’t flinch when he jerked toward her, snapping his head forward so it was almost touching hers, lingering for a moment before he pulled back and turned away.
    “Whatever,” he muttered. “Fucking dyke