Tempest Rising - Diane Mckinney-whetstone [93]
18
The storm hit. After midnight it started with pretty, twirling snowflakes that could have been pink-draped ballerinas, their fall to the earth was so full of grace. Until the wind lumbered in, a continuous blast of wind that was like a clumsy giant. Tripping all over itself, knocking everything in its path hard to the ground: tree branches, power lines, roof shingles, even the warmth in the air. And what it didn’t knock down, it bumped into and pushed and sent flying, like trash cans, milk bottles, porch chairs, and now three big-legged, brown-skinned, richly bundled girls clinging to a light pole and to each other so that they wouldn’t be blown away from where they stood, waiting, watching, praying for a bus that would take them to their aunts and uncles.
“There’s no bus coming, Shern.” Bliss yelled to be heard over the loud-talking giant of a wind. “We have to go back. Tell her, Tore. We have to go back to Mae’s or we’ll die out here.”
“We do, Shern.” Victoria tried to yell too, but her voice cracked so she pressed her head into the back of Shern’s neck, forced her voice through the double-knitted scarf so it would get to her ears. “We’re going to get frostbitten out here. Come on, Shern, we tried, okay, but it’s not going to work this time.”
Shern knew they were right. She had hoped that the bus was just late. Had reasoned that buses were often late. Weren’t Mae and Ramona and even Tyrone always complaining about the so and so bus that didn’t get to the bus stop until such and such a time? But this bus wasn’t late. She peered down the street one more time just to make sure, no flickering bus lights, no car lights, for that matter. The only light came from the snowflakes, which were no longer ballerinas but spiked-heeled witches taunting them each time they landed against their flesh, just the snow and the girls and the vacuous stretch of frigid night air filled with the sounds of the lumbering giant wind.
Shern loosed her arms from the pole, called around her to tell Victoria to keep herself wrapped tightly against her back, told her to tell Bliss to do the same. They left the bus stop then, looking like three girls playing choo-choo train the way Victoria was linked to Shern’s back and Bliss was linked to Victoria’s. They all had their heads down, even Shern, who was trying to be their guide. But Shern could look up only in short glimpses, the witches’ heels were so assaultive against her face driven by the giant wind.
And when she did look up, the entire neighborhood had taken on such a snow-draped sameness that it seemed they were struggling against the wind up the same block over and over again. She lost count. Had they turned at the second corner or the third? Should she now go right or left? If she turned up this street, at least the wind would be at her back, and then she could turn right at the next corner. She was confused. She kept moving, though. She had to keep moving, even as she could feel Victoria behind her, dragging her leg; what she must be going through with that hurt leg. Now she could hear Bliss crying, sobbing. “We’re gonna die, oh, sweet Jesus, we’re gonna die.” She wanted to tell Bliss to stop hollering like that, to save her breath, to keep her head buried in Victoria’s back so her tears wouldn’t freeze to her face. But she couldn’t yell out. She was too tired. Too lost. Too defeated. They would have to stop. They would just have to walk up on somebodys porch and ring the bell, bang on the door, break through the window, if need be. She raised her head a little to look for a house. There were no houses. Nothing but trees. The trees looked so warm and beautiful under their white, satiny blankets, and for a second she wanted to curl up under the blanket too. But then the wind giant’s thumb went right to her chin, tilted her chin back so that she had to look all the way up, moved the rest of its massive body through the snow witches’ spiked heels, cleared the air so she could focus.
Now she did cry out. Wasn’t that the beginning of the park across the street? And wasn