That had been a pretty insensitive thing to say. Check your privilege, girl, Shawntelle used to tell me. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I say.

She shrugs. “The boys had it worse than me, the kids I shared a bedroom with, I mean. They were Black. Cops were always giving them shit. They couldn’t walk into a grocery store without people looking at them funny. By the time the virus hit, their dad was in prison. Ten-year sentence for selling a little MJ. The boys were awful, and we fought all the time, but then, yanno, they died.” Tanq says it flippantly, but she’s staring out the window to avoid our gazes, and her left hand is clenching into a tight fist.

She gasps, and Terrified Tanq is suddenly back—the wide eyes, the rounded shoulders. “What’s that?” she says.

Trey leaps toward the window. I spot it the moment he does: a silver glint, followed by a high-pitched mechanical whine.

“Get back!” Trey whispers. “Behind the island. Crouch down.”

We all bump knees to comply. “Emmaline, come,” I say, and it’s such a relief when she trots over. “Sit.”

“Not a sound,” Trey whispers. He’s heavy in the space on my left; though he’s crouched low, the top of his head almost reaches the height of the kitchen island. Tanq is coiled into a ball on Emmaline’s right, eyes squeezed shut. After a moment, she reaches out blindly and wraps her arm around my dog.

We wait a long time. I expect to hear the window shattering, to feel the heat of the aircraft’s weapon. Even if it happens fast, there will be at least a split second of agony, a moment when I have utter assuredness of my own death.

But nothing happens. Trey and I look at each other, the same question in our eyes. His face is very close. A tiny bit of stubble darkens his chin. “I’m going to check,” he says in a whisper so soft I strain to hear.

I nod, and my heart is in my throat as Trey slowly pushes his head up to peek over the top of the island.

“I don’t see anything,” he whispers. “Wait here.” Maintaining his crouched position, Trey creeps around the island toward the wall of windows, then hunkers down in front of a sofa. I peer around the edge of the island to keep an eye on him. I’m half tempted to look away, though. I couldn’t stand to watch something bad happen to Trey.