Soul Fire by Nancy Allan Page B

time of year I could get away with wearing just a hoodie or sweater. No respectable Seattle teenager covered her clothes with a jacket except on rare days like this. I stuffed my hands into the pocket slats and hurried down the sidewalk, the tread of my Nikes leaving fresh tracks beside Delta’s. He was just ahead of me and must have sensed me behind him. He half turned without stopping and glanced over his shoulder. No smile. No greeting. Just a cold stare. I should tell him about the shrink.
    Instead, I said, “Hey, how’s it going?”
    “Crappy.”
    Oh-oh. Was that because of me and my OD, I wondered, suddenly choking on more guilt. “Not because of me, I hope.”
    “Partly.”
    I blinked the snow out of my eyes and glanced up at Delta, or Dell, I guess it was.
    “Your mom must be pretty pissed,” I panted, jogging to keep up with him.
    “Yeah. Had a hell of a lot of explaining to do.” He obviously wasn’t going to stop and chat.
    I touched his arm trying to make eye contact. “I’m really sorry, Delta. I’m a total wreck, I guess.”
    “Ya think?”
    The least he could do was accept my apology. After all, the grass was his, the Ecstasy was his, and the idea was his. “I want to apologize to your mom as well.”
    He stopped and looked at me like I’d grown two heads. “You crazy? Forget it. B’sides, she doesn’t like visitors. You’d be intruding. Big time.”
    I hadn’t thought of that. I brushed the snow off my hair and pulled my hood out from under the collar. Weather was getting worse, and standing here, talking, seemed like a dumb idea. I pulled the hood up over my head and blinked the snowflakes out of my eyes. “I really need to apologize. I can’t leave it like this.”
    His boot scuffed the newly fallen snow. “Let’s say you apologize. Then what? You’ll feel better, right?”
    “Not likely.”
    “Well, neither will I or my mom, so forget it.” He turned around and continued up the sidewalk. I stood there uncertainly and watched him disappear into the storm. I started toward home and then stopped. This was something I had to do. Quickly, I turned back and tried to catch up to him, but he was gone, eaten by swirling snowflakes.
    None of the landmarks looked familiar. It was impossible to read the street signs without getting right up to them. Where was Vine Street? Had I passed it? I kept going, and eventually the street sign appeared. I turned right hoping I would somehow recognize Delta’s house. Putting my head down into the wind and stuffing my hands deeper into my pockets, I wondered again why I was doing this. I must be crazy, like Delta said.
    First of all, there was a big snowstorm in the forecast, which means Seattle and surrounding areas will likely lose power. That’s what usually happens when we get a dump of heavy wet snow, which isn’t often. Second, I had no idea which house was Delta’s. I remembered it being on the right side, but everything looked different in this world of whirling white. And third, I was not welcome. I had made a horrible fool of myself once by almost croaking in their back yard. Why remind Delta’s mom of that? Best forgotten, right? I sighed and forced myself on.
    Two empty flower urns—one on each side of a driveway, brought me to a stop. I remembered walking between them that day, so I turned up the drive and knocked at the front door. When no one answered, I rang the doorbell twice. Still no response, so I persisted, ringing again. The door flew open and an angry Delta scowled down at me. Oops . “I’ll only stay a minute. I promise.”
    “Get lost.”
    “I’ll stand here all night if I have to.”
    “Help yourself.” He slammed the door shut.
    Determined, I rang two more times and again the door flew open. “Stop! Go home.”
    “After I apologize.”
    He re-considered. His dark eyes probed mine. He squeezed the bridge of his nose as though I’d given him a migraine. Then, he stepped back and motioned me inside. “Take off