I put out my hand, and she takes it. In any other light, she would run from me. Even now, probably, she is dying to run from me, but we have a job to do, and the world is falling apart around us.

The row of police officers at the barricade below us raises its shields. Their stances change in one fell swoop, as if they’ve been called to attention from parade rest. The people at the front of the demonstration—fists up, still chanting—sense the shift. They stare up at me, asking for guidance. I don’t have any to give.

Across the street, there is fighting. The perfect picture of our crowd blurs and pixelates at the edges. We are watching something dissolve. Batons fly. A different kind of scream rises up. People down below look around, uncertain which direction to run. Among them, others move firmly, spoiling for the fight.

I’m scared. There’s no other word for it. “I don’t think we can hold them.”

Kimberly’s eyes are fire. “Can you blame them?”

My skin tingles. My limbs tremble. I don’t know where to place this feeling. Somewhere between rage and despair. “We’re supposed to be in charge. In control.”

“We’ve never had control.” Kimberly shakes her head. “That’s the whole point.”

MELODY

My gloves are green, Brick’s are black.

Light it up! Light it up! Light it up! chants the crowd. We jumping. We pumping. Fists punching high.

Light it up! Light it up! Light it up!

And then someone does.

Flames burst up along the street somewhere to our left. I can’t see it, past all the arms and shoulders penning me in. I only hear it. A sizzling whoosh. The crowd rocks and shimmies. Gasping, cheering.

The rhythm is broken. People move every which way. Toward the flames, away. It’s hard to stay standing.

My gloves are green, his are black.

All my focus is on the place where they meet.

Brick is there, and then he’s gone.

It’s me. Alone, and drifting.

Shoulders, coat sleeves, elbows, fists. Tossed about in a human ocean. No shore in sight.

I never seen the ocean. Don’t know what it feels like to drown. Maybe like this?

“Brick!” I shout. “Brick?”

I’m turning and turning and turning. The rock of my fist crumbles. I’m grasping for anything.

Bump. Check. Stumble.

Then, out of the ocean of sleeves, there’s a face. At my level. Huge eyes. Trembling lips. Cheeks slack and shiny. We’re gasping at each other. Her face, like mine, has succumbed to the water.

My gloves are green, hers are brown. We take hands. No words. Safety in numbers or something like that. We become bigger together.

KIMBERLY

“Please disperse. Please disperse.” The officer’s droning voice is projected from a metallic-sounding speaker. “Please disperse.”

I want to find the voice. To yell STOP in his face. No one is dispersing.

Zeke hovers near the microphone. I pull his arm. “We have to get out of here.”