“This is SCORE’s protest,” he answers.

Things are on fire. There is nothing we can do. “It stopped being ours a few minutes ago.”

“I have to—” Zeke’s free hand bats at the microphone stand, as if petting it will calm anything. “I have to try.” There’s silence for a beat, and then he leans forward. Shouts, “We are. Unarmed! We are. Unarmed!” The rhythm is decent. The crowd picks it up. We are unarmed! We are unarmed!

We are flanked, suddenly and dramatically, by riot-dressed cops. The line of cops at the barricade pushes forward against the crowd, while more rush forth from the precinct building, filling the steps and then some.

I let go of Zeke’s arm because I have to. We put our hands in the air, because we have to. A baton passes in front of us. Terror sizzles through me. A searing streak, like lightning. My body tenses to take the blow.

What is hit instead is the microphone. It gets knocked away down the steps.

This is it. We’ll be arrested.

The most terrible thought—maybe this means Zeke will get to stay. Can you work at the US Capitol if you have a record? Shame floods me. My own selfish horror breaks me harder than anything I’ve seen tonight. Any second now, the tears will start to fall. Any second.

I don’t understand what happens next. At all. The cops flood past us. Every damn one of them. They pile on top of one another to get into the fray below. Swinging batons and knocking people to the ground.

“Please disperse. Please disperse.” The drone continues unabated.

The strongest, loudest voice is still the crowd. We are unarmed! We are unarmed!

All but alone on the steps, Zeke and I look at each other. Are we relieved … or insulted? They ran past us? We are not a threat. We are two kids with our hands up, and no way left to speak.

“We have to get out of here,” I say.

Zeke lowers his hands. “We can’t just leave.”

“We can.” I shake my head, and even then the tears don’t come loose. “I think we have to.”

DEVANTE

I’ve always made fun of that thing they do in movies, that battle-scene shaky-cam effect, where everything is jostling and confused. I’ve always said it looks stupid. It does.

But I get it now. I mean, I get where the idea comes from.

They get it wrong, though. It’s supposed to show urgency, on-screen, but that’s not what it is in real life. It’s terror. It’s my whole body thumping because my heart is beating so hard. Every blink is like a snapshot from a slightly new angle. The whole world changes in the split second it takes my eyelids to go up and down. It’s jarring as hell. My head starts to pound.

Beside me, Will jumps to the beat and pumps his fist in the air.

Light it up! Light it up!