I don’t expect Mom to understand. I just expect her to support me. And she does. I know, deep down, that she does. Because even if she wants to chain me to my bed or slap some sense into me, she knows I have to do this. Not only because it’ll help me get into a good college and pursue my dream of working in journalism, but because being there, standing up for what’s right, letting the police and the state of Maryland know that they can’t fail to deliver justice—actual justice—is important to me. It’s important to almost every Black and brown teen I know. This can determine the type of future we’re going to make. Are we going to be a generation that just lets the status quo continue, or are we going to stand up for our rights no matter what? I know what type of person I want to be. Going to this rally is the step in the right direction.

And Mom isn’t going to stop me.

I pull back, smile as bright as I can, and kiss her cheek. “I’ll be okay, and I’ll come home before it’s too late. It’s only a forty-five-minute drive. And remember, Damien is coming me with. I have a white boy. They aren’t going to hurt me.”

That’s at least what I’m gambling on.

* * *

Damien’s house isn’t far from mine. Usually, when we’re “hanging out,” I just walk. It gives me time to decompress, to analyze my thoughts and still my anxiety.

But tonight, my anxiety is at an all-time high.

I park and walk up the steps to his house. I knock on the door. No answer. I raise my hand, about to rap my knuckles against the worn wood again, when the door bursts open.

“Hey,” Damien says.

“Hey, yourself.”

Unlike me, dressed and ready to take on The Man and record history, Damien is…not. His hair is a curly mess, he’s wearing a worn, stained T-shirt—what he wears when he’s doing his woodwork—and a pair of gray sweats and slides.

“That’s not revolutionary attire,” I tease. “Didn’t you get the memo?”

He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “About that.”

Uh-oh.

Nothing good ever comes after about that. Damien has a special ability to twist my heart when he says it. I know whatever is about to come out of his mouth is going to hurt.

Damien sighs, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it tonight.”

“Oh.” The words don’t hurt as much as I thought they would. Honestly, I was surprised he wanted to go to begin with.