DeVante says, “Everyone wants to say violence isn’t the answer. You have to remember that violence is also the question. That’s what we don’t talk about.”

ZEKE

The Underhill Community Center’s front doors are open. I stand beneath the wooden archway, trying to look fierce. I’m no kind of security guard, but I’m all we’ve got.

Yvonne bursts in the side door and immediately draws up short. Kimberly freezes amid her collection of wounded neighbors and shivering homeless people. It’s not that I thought she was wrong to bring people in, but it was definitely a bold move. Without permission. And now we face the music.

Yvonne sighs. “I wondered why all the lights were on.”

“What are you doing back?” I’m relieved to see Yvonne but she took a big risk venturing out to get here.

“It’s my job, honey,” she says.

“So, you’re not mad?” Kimberly asks.

“This is what a community center is for,” Yvonne says. “If we don’t open our doors now, what good are we?” She pulls out her big ring of keys. “Who wants to bust into the clinic with me?”

Kimberly follows Yvonne down the hall. I pull more paper cups and paper towels out of the supply closet.

Our little crowd has grown to about twenty-five. People seeking shelter, seeking warmth, seeking first aid.

We distribute blankets from the clinic, stragglers continue to dribble in. We stick on bandages, bust out crackers and peanut butter, read news updates out loud to the room. By the middle of the night—middle of the morning, really—things seem to have calmed down.

“How are you all getting home?” Yvonne asks. “Anyone need a ride?”

“I’ve got my car,” I say. “I can bring Kimberly home.”

Loud and renewed sirens pick up out front.

“On second thought,” Yvonne says. “Better to wait for first light.”

Kimberly and I retreat to the SCORE office with a couple of blankets. The chairs are not that comfortable in here, and we’re both too exhausted anyway.

“I have to lie down,” Kimberly says. She goes behind the other desk and pushes the chair away. She curls up in the space under the desk. I completely get the impulse, to pack yourself away in a small space, safe, with walls on all sides.

“Here.” I spread the blanket over her and sort of tuck her in. Maybe it’s weird to do that. I pull my hands back just in case.

“Thanks.” She smiles up at me. So pretty. Sleepy eyes are kinda sexy, I guess. Meanwhile she’s probably like, Why are you still sitting here touching my blanket?

“Well, I hope you can get some rest.”

“We did a good thing,” she says.

“You did this.” I would have stayed back here in the office all night, not helping anybody.

“Different kinds of helping.” She yawns.

“I guess…”