I look back to see why we’ve stopped, and so does the man beside me, our hands tightly linked in a vicious grip that threatens to break my fingers. We’ve pulled the human chain as far as it will go.

“Grab my hand!” I stretch my fingers toward Pedro.

“Lari! I can’t!”

There’s something wrong with his right leg. He’s standing with his full weight on his left side, an arm wrapped around the woman to keep her balance, while she clings to the side of the car.

“You can do this! Come to me!” I shout, but Pedro and the woman are stuck in place.

I glance back at the man holding my hand. “I need to go to them,” I say.

The rain has turned into a full-blown June storm, falling heavy, muffling our voices with the steady thrumming of thick drops pelting the river-like avenue.

The man’s expression is strained. And I realize with a jolt of surprise that his eyes remind me of Dad’s.

Eyes that I’ve never seen in person.

Eyes that I’ve known only through photos and newspaper articles that described his death. A dark, warm shade of brown.

In a flash, I see a motorcycle under all the water.

“This avenue is covered in potholes. I can’t let you go on. We’ll call the firefighters!” he says, alarmed. Like Dad probably would have said in this situation. But instead of trapping me in fear, this realization gives me courage.

“They can’t wait any longer!” I wiggle my hand in his to free it. “Please. I know what I’m doing.”

The man seems conflicted. He looks from me to Pedro and Amandinha’s mother, his eyes wide with fear.

Somewhere down the human chain, someone’s interlocked grip breaks loose. But only momentarily. The man and I get pulled back as they rejoin hands. The abrupt motion is enough to let my hand slip free. I don’t look back. I head toward Pedro.

A stray piece of trash underwater wraps around my ankle and I lose my footing. I do a little lunge to keep from falling, colliding painfully against the car. The air gets knocked out of me, and a million stars burst in front of my eyes. My left knee burns.

“Lari!” Pedro’s voice is panicked. He is still holding the woman.

“I can’t walk,” she says, scared. “My leg.” Her crutches are lost underwater.

“I think I broke my foot,” Pedro says. “I can’t do this!”

“You can!” I say, but he won’t look at me. His eyes are focused on all this water threatening to drown us. “We can do this together!”