Free as a Jailbird

Chapter 14

One thing I love about this city is that it has the perfect amount of traffic. In other places like New York or DC, you'll likely be run over by taxis or ploughed by angry upper-class folk. But it isn't empty like small towns outside Maryland. I know this place like the back of my hand and I know almost every street crew out there. I've worked for most of them and have too many connections to count. People know me by name, and that always comes in handy.

With no money for dinner, I pass Joey's hotdog stand on the corner of Collins and Acorn and beg him for a freebie. He rolls his eyes but can't resist my puppy-dog eyes. Joey's brother is a retiree of the East crew. See, it pays to have connections.

By the time I finish my hot dog and the sun has vanished, I am starting to feel the chill of night. The clock above the public library clangs loudly as I pass it and I count eight chimes. I can't believe I've been walking around for that long. Only four more hours to waste until I have to be at the old church in the city square, just around the corner. Maybe if I wait inside St. James for a while – even have a snooze in the upstairs attic just to pass time – then I won't have to worry so much. All this walking only makes my mind trickle with anxiousness about what I'm getting myself into tonight.

The cathedral is a common area for bikers to handle their business meetings with other crews. If they want to meet at a specific time, this is the place. After church hours, that is. Other times we used to meet in the parks or on the coast. I sometimes wander down there when I need a good place to think. The sound of the waves colliding with the shore soothes me and when it's mid-winter, the place is mostly unoccupied.

I cross the main road through the town square and meander along the sidewalk to the church. It's quiet in this neighborhood, which is why it shocks me when I hear the sound of old eighties music coming from the church and the lights high up in the rafters of St. James are glowing through the stained glass.

The church stands on the corner of Rise and Main Street and looks as though it might fall apart as soon as the next gust of wind blows its way. The bricks are an ancient sandstone and the stained-glass windows look as if they have actually been blemished by the sun over the many years it's been standing. I make my way up the long flight of stairs to the front doors, wondering what could possibly be going on in this very old, unpopular church on a Saturday at eight thirty. The only event I've ever attended here besides gang meets is Sunday morning church, which bored me to tears.

I hesitate before sticking my head through the door and brace myself for a whole lot of old people in bad dress-ups dancing to Walking on Sunshine.

Instead, what I see makes my jaw drop and I nearly trip on the doormat as I try hastily to pull my head back out and shut the door before anyone sees me.

But my escape isn't as fool-proof as I hoped. As soon as I slip out of the door, I back straight into someone. The box of objects she was carrying topples over, spilling everything inside all over the steps of the church.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry." I bend down and hastily gather the items. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and only then am I brave enough to look up.

The person I bumped into is a girl who appears to be about my age, perhaps a little older. She has beautiful blond hair that shines a golden orange in the light from the street lamp a few steps down. Her eyes are dark blue and she has on plain, faded jeans and a woolen navy coat that looks so warm, I shiver.

But there is something different about her that makes me stop and stare. She has an unnatural glow about her, a light radiating from every inch of her skin that shines through her eyes and seems to seep from her clothes and into mine, pushing warmth in my heart. It's a strange feeling, one that both scares and awes me.

"Hello," she says in a sweet voice, her smile even kinder. "Were you wanting to come inside?"

I bend down and pick up a box of Pringles, then realize with a pang of hunger that the box she carries is full of candies, chip packets and sodas. I hand her the cylindrical box and she continues to smile.

"I was just ... poking my head inside, but I don't want to intrude without an invitation."

I honestly think this girl might be mad. Instead of looking at me in disgust, instead of shooing me away and snatching back her food with a scowl, the idea of me 'intruding' delights her.

"Oh no!" she exclaims, hurriedly collecting the rest of her picnic with immense enthusiasm. "Please, come inside! We're just celebrating our first gathering of term. You should join us!"

I rarely accept charity. Mostly because I choose to live like this, and therefore I must survive on my own. When I first left home and struggled getting food or a place to stay, I gladly accepted meals from kind church outreach programs and homeless shelters who offered me refuge for however long I needed it. That was before I started making enough money to walk the journey alone.

So I surprise even myself when I accept her offer. I don't have much else to do and my meeting is at this church. What could be bad about a 'gathering'? As long as it's not a cult. I hate cults.

And there is something about this girl that intrigues me, making it even harder to say no. I want to know what makes her so happy, why she is so full of life and promise. I imagine if there were clouds above us, hers would be shining golden rays of sun and fluffy and white like snow, and mine would be thundering and gray, the color of old gravel roads.

I smile to myself. "Sure. I'd love to come in."

The girl couldn't have been more overjoyed. I consider what I am walking myself into and decide I don't care. Cult, religious church, sacrificial offering, whatever. Maybe I need something like this to take my mind off what I will face at midnight.

"I'm Belle, by the way." She turns and flashes me a beautiful smile. "Belle Montgomery."

I look down at the hand she has held out and shake it. "Jess."

"Pleased to meet you, Jess."