More clicking.

Mommy doesn’t stop me when I slide into her lap. She types in our address and credit card numbers. All the while, the images of the hotel blink by, all shiny and clean. I learn a new word.

“What is ‘amenities’?”

“What are amenities,” Mommy corrects. “It means good things.”

We will have amenities. The worst thing that ever happened to us has turned into something not so bad. Every cloud has a silver lining, Mommy always says.

ZEKE

Even the old, boring day-to-day work feels different with Kimberly around now. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I just want to make out with her all day, I feel like, even though making out is kind of exhausting after a while. We wouldn’t even have to make out the whole time. Just spend the day lounging in the same space, so that we could be touching. But who has time to lounge?

“You okay?” Kimberly smiles at me. It’s been quiet between us for a while, which is unusual.

“Sure, yeah.” Nothing to do but smile back. What will she think when I tell her about Senator Sloan’s offer? Washington, DC, feels distant and exciting. My whole self comes alive in a different way, thinking about it. But it also means the end of this thing that I’ve built. Saying goodbye to SCORE.

SCORE would be fine in Kimberly’s capable hands, of course. It’s not totally about the work, it’s … something different. If Kimberly’s here, and I’m there …

I don’t want to think about it. My hands cap and uncap the colorful markers before me.

The grand jury has been hearing the Darren Henderson/Shae Tatum case. Their pronouncement is due any day now. Maybe tomorrow, but probably the day after. That’s what they’ve told us, anyway. When it comes, we’ll be there. Kimberly and me, and a whole lot of others.

Look at her now, punching out UNARMED buttons on the button maker. She makes mundane things seem incredibly sexy. How does she do that? I peek at her out the corner of my eye, occasionally bumping her knee with mine.

I’m hand-lettering yet another poster with her catchphrase on it. “‘Today for Shae, Tomorrow for All’ was a stroke of genius,” I tell her.

She grins. “So you’ve said.”

For the thousandth time, probably. “What can I say? I’m a fanboy for your brain.”

Kimberly tosses a finished button in the box, flexes her wrist, then reaches for a poster board. “What other signs do you want?”

“No Justice, No Peace.”

“I don’t know if we should use that,” she says.

“No justice, no peace?” But it’s so simple, so powerful. Easy to chant.

“Yeah. We’re supposed to be advocating nonviolence.”

“That’s not what it means.”

Kimberly frowns. “No justice, no peace. As in, if we don’t get justice, we won’t be peaceful?”

I shake my head, lean into it. This is exactly the kind of discussion I love. “No, no. It’s a much more complicated idea of peace. It’s drawn from a quote from the Reverend Dr. King.”