When the bus finally pulls up, I’m grateful. All I want to do is get to school without one more reminder of See Us. I step toward the back of the crowded bus and am surprised when I’m able to snag the last seat. I sit and take a deep breath.

The lady sitting next to me is on her cell, watching a televised version of one of New York City’s biggest morning radio shows, The Breakfast Club, a show about hip-hop culture. One of the hosts—Charlamagne tha God—is announcing his daily segment called “Donkey of the Day.”

“Donkey of the Day” highlights people who commit crimes that are too dumb for words. Or just say things that are so asinine and bizarre, it defies logic. To be one hundred, they should just call it “People from Florida,” because ninety-five percent of the time, that’s where the person they are roasting is from.

Today the Donkey is a man named Guppy. Guppy thought it was a good idea to call the police on his live-in girlfriend because she’d eaten all the blue moon-shaped marshmallows in his Lucky Charms cereal. Then he took off after her using a spoon as a makeshift weapon. And where was he from? You guessed it, Florida. The lady and I look at each other and smile.

Once the host is done with that segment, they move on to talk about the event that is on everyone’s lips—the march. They discuss the celebrities coming and how the right-wing news media is vilifying the protest even before it happens. And just before they go to a commercial break, they bring up my mom and how critical she is to the movement.

When I get to class, the bell is just about to ring, so I don’t get a chance to update Naija. I also don’t get a chance to inquire about her outfit. She’s wearing gray hooded sweats that are too big and baggy for her. She has her hood up, and I can barely make her out in the thick cotton fabric.

Mr. Gunderson tells her to take off her hood; she glares at him and does as he asks. Her hair is in a sensible ponytail at the base of her neck. Naija has never been sensible where it comes to clothing or her hair. She’s always one for risks, and more often than not, they pay off. But today, her hair and outfit are drab and uninspired.

“Girl, you good?” I ask.

She nods.