Zeke looks thoughtful. “The whole point of a movement like this is to underscore the fact that we’re not all violent, not all drug dealers and gang members.”

“We need people to come together,” I say. “We don’t need to start a fight.”

“Brick’s looking for a fight,” Melody says.

“So are we.” Zeke rubs the back of his neck. His mind is agitated, I can tell by his sudden restlessness. “I just don’t know what that alliance would look like.”

Melody stands up. “Me either. All I know is, if you don’t get to him, it’s going off.”

JENNICA

Thursday is pizza night. Kimberly always picks it up on her way home from the salon. We pull the blankets up and watch old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy or Project Runway on her laptop. The screen is small, so we have to sit close together. It’s okay if I rest my head on her shoulder. Sometimes, the best times, she wraps her arms around me. It’s the only time I feel okay. It’s the only time I can get clear on what it really felt like to be with Noodle. When I have someone there to lean on who’s better. Kimberly is solid, warm. Noodle is like smoke or vapor. Fleeting.

He hasn’t called. Hasn’t texted. Not since the other night. I stare at my phone. Nothing. And I hate myself for wanting it, when everything is wrong.

I’m already on the couch when Kimberly breezes in.

She plops her purse on the counter. Her purse … and nothing else.

“Hey, Jennica.” She swoops on down the hallway.

I sit up. Where is the sweet-hot scent of crust and cooked tomatoes?

A few minutes later, she’s back, dressed in boot-cut jeans and a flowy, belted top. Clothes to go out in.

“No pizza?”

She smooths down the belt, glances at her reflection in the microwave door. “Sorry. I can’t tonight.”

“No big deal.” I think the words sound light enough, even though my throat is closing.

Kimberly pops some lip gloss out of her purse. “No, you’re right. I should have called. It’s our standing date.” She smiles and it is warm. Still, the apology is not the blanket I was hoping for.

“No big deal,” I say again. “You look great. Have fun with Zeke.”

“It’s not a date. It’s sort of a work thing. We have to go to this party.”

Sounds like a date. “Well, have fun.”

Kimberly sighs. “I’d invite you, but it’s not a party you want to be at, you know?”

So it’s like that. “I’m fine,” I tell her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“See you,” she says. The door closes behind her.

I curl up under the blanket, alone.

OFFICER YOUNG