Not to the Swift

Chapter 21

"Come on," Mikeyla screamed. "This way!"

René and Mikeyla dashed across a cloudy street, trying to outpace the stinging smoke. They weren't alone—protesters and pedestrians caught in the chaos scattered and scurried all over the nearby intersection like a disturbed anthill.

The line of police vehicles and officers in riot gear held firm, blocking protesters here from moving south or west.

René followed Mikeyla east, thinking they were heading home. We got more pictures than we can possibly use. And it's getting late.

"Yo, 'Keyla, lemme use your phone to call my mom."

"You kidding, right?"

René shook her head. "No way. I'll get in trouble but it'll be way better if I call first."

Mikeyla shrugged. "Your funeral, girl." Then she grimaced and sucked in air. "Ooh, uh, sorry, I didn't mean—"

"I know, 'Keyla. It's okay."

It doesn't feel okay. But that's not Mikeyla's fault.

The phone rang twice and René jerked her head away from the shouting voice on the other end. "You best get your butt home this minute or I'm gonna ground you 'til college!"

"Yes ma'am. We're on our way, ma'am."

"Where you at right now?"

René looked around, ducking and dodging between people running in all directions. She spotted the street signs and read off the names. "Seventh and Madison."

"Seventh north? Or south?"

"North. We got some pictures of the protests for Miss Pearson's project, and—"

"She sent you out there in the middle of this?" LaTasha's voice rose again, and René held the phone away. She could still hear her mom clearly.

"Monday morning, I swear to God Almighty, I am gonna kill that dumb white bi—"

Screams pierced the night, a bottle shattered nearby, and suddenly flaming liquid rushed over one of the police vehicles. Puffs of air rang out like rapid bursts of popcorn popping. People cried out and stumbled or fell on the road.

"Rubber bullets," someone yelled. "Take cover!"

A fleeing teenager in a hoodie and facemask smashed into René by accident, bowling her over. The phone flew from her hand and skittered across the ground in pieces.

Mikeyla ran to the rubble and tried to gather up the remains. "My phone! My mom gonna kill me when she find out."

René shouted above the cacophony. "Leave it! We in trouble already, but we ain't safe out here. Let's go! We gotta get home."

They scurried off the street and sidewalk and moved out of view, hoping to avoid police attention. Mikeyla found a path into the darkness between two long storage buildings that led to the railyard. "We can cross the yard and cut down south."

* * * * *

"Hang on, 'Tasha." George held the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he screwed a panel back into place.

"Herbert, it's René, she's out in that madhouse. I heard gunshots in the background, I think. And then the phone went dead."

"What? I thought she was at the Barnetts' working on homework."

"That's what she told me. Apparently Mikeyla told them the girls were over here."

George swore and packed up his tools. "I'm on my way. Any idea where to start?"