Fire in the Streets by Kekla Magoon Page B

nice,” she whispers. “Wanting to do something.”
    â€œYeah.” But we both know he won’t. Can’t. It’s not like us, where the guys come and go. Emmalee’s dad is her dad, and that’s that.
    I click off my lamp. Raheem puts his on, so there’s a soft glow in the room. It’s how I like to fall asleep most nights. Knowing he’s over there. In the not-quite-dark.
    Best of all is Emmalee’s quiet presence. The whispers of her breath. We snuggle down under the covers and don’t even touch, but she’s right there with me.

    I wake slightly trembling. Remnants of a nightmare. Things chasing me. White- and brown-skinned men with erased faces. Bucky Willis, all bloody. Steve Childs, shot full ofholes and sinking into a rectangle plot of earth. There was a fair amount of screaming, in my head. I breathe hard to draw myself out of the dream space.
    Emmalee’s limbs spider over me. I pluck them one by one and slide from beneath the sheets. I sit on the edge of the bed for a while, looking at the curtain, listening to Raheem and Emmalee breathing in off-kilter rhythms.
    The dream has left me mind sick, heartsick, belly sick. A storm of icky feelings.
    When I lie back down, Emmalee automatically rolls to hug me in her sleep. Her arms coil around one of mine, the way I might hold Little Ralphie, who is tucked safe in his drawer at the moment. Her cheek touches my shoulder.
    I’m glad she’s here. I’m glad not to be so alone, but I can’t make myself close my eyes. I study the spots on the ceiling, wondering if sleep will hit me by accident between now and when the sun comes up.

CHAPTER 31
    I ARRIVE LATE TO POLITICAL EDUCATION CLASS because I’ve been all the way on the other side of the neighborhood, putting up flyers for the health clinic. When I slip in the door, it appears as if all hell has broken loose.
    â€œGuns, shoot!” someone yells out. “Y’all cowards when it comes down to it. Ain’t no one gonna ever pull a trigger?”
    â€œAll police are pigs!” someone else shouts over the din.
    â€œNo,” Leroy says sharply, cutting through the stew of voices. “We respect police officers who respect us.”
    â€œThey just happen to be few and far between,” Hamlin calls out.
    â€œI ain’t never met one!” Gumbo tosses in. People chuckle.
    â€œI hear that,” Leroy says. “But you’ve also got to understand the principle. We defend ourselves against actions that are unjust. Cop tries to cuff you, let him cuff you. Butif the cop tries to beat you, pull your gun and hope he backs off. See the difference?”
    â€œI ain’t getting cuffed for no crime I didn’t commit,” Gumbo declares.
    Leroy shakes his head. “That’s what the legal defense fund is for. We don’t resist arrest, rightful or wrongful. We do resist brutality. We need to show them we respect the law, but won’t stand for them stepping outside of it. You dig?”
    â€œWhat’s going on?” I whisper, sidling up beside Sam, who’s standing in the back. Possibly waiting for me. I hope.
    â€œOh, they saw someone get picked up during policing rounds today. People don’t understand why the Panthers let him get arrested.”
    â€œThe cops beat on him?” I think of Bucky.
    â€œNo, he just got collared for stealing batteries out of the corner store.”
    â€œDid he do it?”
    Sam shrugs. “No idea. The point is, it was a lawful arrest, so the Panther policers had to let it go. On principle.”
    â€œAnd some people want blood anyway,” I say, looking around at the couple of people who are still leaping out of their seats, shouting out that the Panthers are cowards.
    â€œOff the pigs!” someone yells.
    Sam nods. That’s the way it goes, I guess. There are always some people who want blood. Maybe it’s the samepeople who always end up ripping up