Black Harlem is pissed, and so white Harlem is nowhere to be found. All the rich and trendy spots we drive past are closed, even though it’s barely seven in the evening. Nate drops me off in the alley near the back entrance of the restaurant. There are no lights on inside, but that is the way we arranged it. Only when I text him does Devonte turn the light on and come to the door. I get out of the car and run inside.

We enter the office in the back, where everyone else is waiting. It’s a small space, with a large wooden desk that takes up most of the room. On the desk are stacks of invoices and mail.

There are only three chairs in the room, but that’s okay—we’re all way too hyped up to sit.

After we hug each other, they all tell me how sorry they are about the decision. Actually, they let out a litany of curses and angrily suggest that we let the whole place burn, since there is little to no hope of us ever getting justice.

“Hey, I was right with you guys—at first. But the fact is, Harlem is our home. And the people out there getting hurt are our people, so we have to stop it,” I remind them.

“And you think you can find a way to do that?” Shawn asks.

“Yes—with help from my mom.”

“Yo, hold up!” Dell says, seriously pissed off. “Do we have to stop the fighting going on? I mean, maybe kicking some white folks’ ass is the way to go! Yeah, like giving them a little dose of what they have always given us.”

Shawn sighs. “I’m not trying to hate on anyone, but yo, sometimes . . . they make it so hard.”

“Let’s remember there are white people marching with us too,” I say. “I get the hate part, though. Trust. But we can’t let it swallow us. And no matter what, I think we all agree we don’t want anyone getting hurt, or worse, killed. Right?”

They nod, but it’s easy to see that they are fighting the same rage I have been. The decision isn’t just a blow to my family but to all of Harlem.

“I’m just say’n, maybe we need to let a few of the people in the grand jury get knocked out. See how they like it,” Dell says.

“You don’t have a violent bone in you,” Nai says.

“Yo, don’t get it twisted. I’m hard-core,” Dell informs her.

“You can’t even make it through the opening sequence of Up,” Nai says, sounding totally sprung.

“Hey! That was pillow talk! You can’t tell everyone!” Dell says, looking shocked and betrayed.

“Pillow talk? Did you two . . .” Shawn can’t finish his thought.