I stand up, pull out my phone, and log on to the community meeting invite. Refreshing the page for an update on attendance to the meeting, I hope that folks show. It’s one thing for people to say they’re planning on showing up, a whole other thing when the day comes. A piece of me wants to pray for Jamal to be there, hanging in the back of the room. But he can’t. With each day he’s farther and farther away—never more so than last night, when our sense of safety was stripped away by the sound of shattering glass, the flash of bright orange, and the flames waving among the shadows of a cross.

EAGLE HAS LANDED

I step out of the shower and get ready for school. As I do, I note a sound downstairs. I’m supposed to be alone, but the bones of the house scream: intruder.

At first, I wave it off to the house adjusting to the heat, but the creak repeats. I peek outside. Beverly’s patrol car is long gone.

The back door slams. I jump up, race outside. There’s movement by some bushes before the trail reaches the trees. My eyes skitter around cautiously so I don’t run blindly through the woods. I know my way around, but also how easy it is for someone to lie low in the shadows to catch me by surprise. Someone from the Brotherhood. Never mind that, hope that it’s Jamal propels me toward what might be an ambush.

On the run, the dry grass scratches at my ankles. I reach the trees; shadows and dark patches block my ability to see far. I enter, and ten steps in, I’m instantly engulfed, struggling to keep up with a person zigzagging through the woods.

A flash of a white shirt catches my attention. My throat tightens with fear, but I don’t slow down, moving so fast my feet barely touch the rough and cracked debris on the ground. My arms pump hard like Jamal taught me.

The crack of a branch breaking in the distance steers my movement. I follow the sound, pushing my fears aside. Allow nostalgia to fill me instead. We pounded across this grass so much as kids it stopped growing and created this trail. I’m at home out here.

Memories of hot summer days flood me. Times we knew our parents were out working and we could spend the day here. We’d break away through the trees, dipping and diving, running to an overgrown section. Make our way through the woods and eventually crash at an old shack with busted-out windows. It was high up on the trail and became our lookout spot to everything below.

I should’ve thought of it sooner.

Jamal.

Of course. The way this person is snaking through the woods, they’re running with precision.