The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. My heart rate skyrockets and my life flashes before my eyes. It would really suck to die right after my first kiss. I swallow hard and try to stay calm.

“You came by the meeting?” I reply as my voice cracks.

“Yeah, imagine my surprise when you weren’t there. They said you stepped out and would be back. So, I waited for you. You never showed up.”

Careful, Ayo . . .

“Oh, I was making copies. It took longer than I thought it would. It kept jamming.”

She tilts her head slightly toward the sky as if she’s trying to figure something out. “That’s strange, because when you didn’t come back, I went to the copy room and didn’t see you. In fact, I searched the whole building. Couldn’t find you. I called you and it went straight to voice mail.”

I laugh nervously. “Oh, sorry, my cell must have died. I think that was around the time I stepped out to get some junk food. You know, I needed a fix.”

“Ayo, did you ditch the See Us meeting? The very meeting I warned you not to skip?” she demands. “And before you fix your mouth to lie to me, know that today is not the day to try me. I will snatch you up by your baby hairs and drag you out this kitchen. Do you hear me?”

I’m frozen with fear and shock. It never occurred to me that she would stop by, not this close to the march.

“Did you walk out and leave Milton to do your job?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yes . . .”

Deflated, she shouts, “Ayomide, what’s wrong with you?”

“Milton is capable of—”

“I don’t care what Milton is and isn’t capable of. The meetings are your responsibility. Today is Thursday; the march is on Sunday! This Sunday! Do you know that?”

“Yes.”

“Then why would you skip the last meeting before the march? What were you thinking?”

I was thinking I didn’t want to spend an hour and a half in a room full of pictures of slain Black folks. I was thinking I’m too damn weak to withstand the judgment in the eyes of the victims. And most of all, I was thinking there are a thousand things I’d rather be doing than turning a conference room into a makeshift tomb.

“I asked you a question. Where were you?”

“I was . . . around,” I reply awkwardly.

She comes close and gives me a hard stare, the kind that could turn people into stone. “Are you on drugs? If you are, I’ll get you help and save your life. Right after I wring your damn neck. So, are you?”