I jerked, eyes wide and pressing deeper into the stone behind me. A man was standing between Robbie and me—a small man in the snow, barefoot with curly black hair, a small beard, wide shoulders… and absolutely nothing on him. "You're not my dad," I said, feeling my heart beat too fast.
"Well, there's one reason to sing to the angels, then, isn't it," he said, shivering violently and trying to cover himself And then a woman screamed.
Chapter 4
"Streaker!" the woman shouted, her arm thick in its parka, pointing.
Heads turned, and I panicked. There were more gasps and a lot of cheers. Robbie jumped onto the planter beside me and shrugged out of his coat.
"My God, Rachel!" he said, the scintillating glow from the set circle illuminating his shock. "It worked!"
The small man was cowering, and he jumped at a distant boom of sound. They were shooting off fireworks at the river, and the crowd responded when a mushroom of gold and red exploded, peeking from around one of the buildings. Fear was thick on him, and he stared at the sparkles, lost and utterly bewildered.
"Here. Put this on," Robbie was saying. He looked funny in just his hat, scarf, and mittens, and the man jumped, startled when Robbie draped his coat over him.
Still silent, the man turned his back on me, tucking his arms into the sleeves and closing the coat with a relieved quickness. Another firework exploded, and he looked up, mouth agape at the green glow reflected off the nearby buildings.
Robbie's expression was tight with worry. "Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, "I never should have done this. Rachel, can't you do a damned spell wrong once in a while?"
My heart dropped to my middle, and I couldn't breathe. Our bet. Damn it. This wasn't Dad. I'd done something wrong. The man hunched before me in bare feet and my brother's new coat wasn't my dad.