Eddie’s face lit up. “Oh yeah, Chijioke! He did say his sister’s been sick.” Just as quickly, her face dropped and her jaw tensed up. “Their apartment complex is one of those in the lawsuit against Theron’s real estate company.”
Mr. Nelson put the girls’ plates in front of them with a clang. “Now, Eddie,” he said, and his voice was light but his eyes had hardened. “You know we don’t say that demon’s name in this house.”
Eddie lowered her gaze and picked up her fork. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
Bitter glanced back and forth between them, a little confused by the undercurrents of unsaid things. It was Theron, though—filling in the gaps wasn’t difficult. She could vaguely remember Blessing and Alex talking about the conditions of Theron’s apartment complexes, but if this was what it sounded like, things there were bad enough to make a little girl very sick. A sour coating washed over Bitter’s tongue. This was the Lucille she didn’t want to look at, a dark hole that would swallow her up entirely if she let it. How on earth did Eddie fight against that suction, that pulling despair?
Mr. Nelson sat across the kitchen counter from them and smiled at Eddie, his eyes soft again. “Ethel and I, we are so proud of you kids, you know? It breaks our hearts to know that you fighting the same damn fight we fought back in the day, but shit, that’s how it goes. A war that spans generations, and y’all are the fiercest fighters yet.” He pointed a finger at her, and Bitter could almost feel the force of his belief and care radiating in the air toward Eddie. “Don’t ever doubt what you’re doing. It’s important. It’s worth it. We need every single body that’s out there—it all counts.” He leaned back and folded his arms. “Your leaders are doing a fine job, the young ones. The Elders too, but y’all youngsters are something special.”
Eddie sat with her fork in her hand, her pie untouched and her eyes damp. “Well, technically we don’t have leaders,” she said, her voice straining to be light under the weight of emotion.
Bitter did a double take. “Yeah, you do. Isn’t that what Ube is?”
Eddie twirled her fork and smiled. “Nah. Assata is led by Assata. Ube is just … he got a lot of force in his spirit, and he got a way with words.”
“He got that divine anointing, that’s what he got,” said Mr. Nelson. “We can all see it.”
“Yeah.” Eddie shrugged. “Something like that. Ube is special, and he reminds us where our hearts should be when we forget or get carried away.”
Bitter frowned. “But you don’t actually have to do what he says?”
“Nah.” Eddie leaned in and inhaled the scent of the pie. “See, if Assata doesn’t have a head, then you can’t chop the head off. Leaders are dangerous. One person is weak; the people are strong.”
Mr. Nelson laughed. “Ain’t that a word. You better dig into that pie before you eat it all up with your eyes, Eddie—I see you.”
Eddie grinned at him. “I’m just waiting for Bitter to appreciate all the elements of this pie. Take a deep breath, B.”
Bitter obeyed, leaning in and closing her eyes. It smelled sweet with an edge of spice, warm, and she could almost taste the crumble of the crust.
“There you go,” Eddie said. “Now we dig in.”
The girls took their first forkfuls of pie, with both Eddie and Mr. Nelson watching Bitter to see her reaction. She had a moment of feeling self-conscious, but then the flavors ignited on her tongue and Bitter made a low, appreciative sound in her throat. “Oh, that’s good!” she said.
“See?” Eddie was smiling victoriously. “And now your life has changed.”
*
After Eddie dropped her off back at the school and left for the protest, Bitter couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation at the Nelsons’ house. Every single body counted, Mr. Nelson had said. One person was weak, Eddie had said, and it made Bitter think about her life before Eucalyptus. She knew she had been strong—you couldn’t survive lost years like that without being strong—but it wasn’t the same strength as what she had now with her friends. She had been more fragile then, maybe, just trying to survive. Less protected, less safe. The people are strong. Bitter couldn’t imagine what it was like to be out there as a protest drew in breath, to look around and see the faces of people who had chosen to fight beside you, to know that you all were comrades together, even if you didn’t live to see the next morning. It was a bravery her friends knew; they were gathering right now: Blessing and Alex, Aloe and Eddie. They’d look around and see each other. Bitter wanted to be with them, but she very much wished that didn’t have to mean being in the middle of Lucille as it went up in a righteous spark.
Still, she imagined how Eddie’s face would light up to see her, how proud Aloe would be. Blessing would be so excited, and Alex would approve. Wasn’t that part of growth, to push yourself outside your comfort zone? To show up for the people you cared about? If she went early, before the protest start time, maybe she could see her friends and then be back in Eucalyptus before things got too heated. Eddie had shown her the route they were taking on her phone, and the intersection they were gathering at was right around the corner from the school. Bitter thought she could make it. It would be a brief showing, just enough so the people she cared about knew that she cared enough to really try. They’d understand when she slipped away, back to where it was safe.
With her mind made up, she moved quickly so it didn’t change back. Bitter pulled on some plain sweats, laced up her running shoes, and threw some energy bars into her backpack for her friends, grabbing a full water bottle as she left her room. Her door closed behind her with a gentle click, and she kept her feet soft as she went down the stairs, unlatched the main door, and stepped out into the Eucalyptus grounds. Evening was wrapping the air in a faint chill, and the sun was swollen and orange. Bitter pushed her hands into her pockets, trying to calm the thudding of her heart as she made her way along the gravel paths. It was going to be fine. She could do this, go out there, be out there, for Blessing, for Aloe, for Eddie. Maybe she should have told Aloe she was going, asked him to come with her, but he was on his whole protest medic thing—he’d be busy, and Bitter didn’t want to feel like he was babysitting her. She could do this alone.
By the time she got to the side gate, her pulse was chaos rattling in her ears and her chest was getting tight, making it hard to take a deep breath. Bitter had to stop and brace herself against a wall, biting down on her lip as she forced herself to breathe, to not give up even though ghosts of sirens and screams were playing in her head: the sound of people running; clips from videos she’d seen one time too many; the casual ease with which a cop aimed pepper spray at a child’s face; the body covered in the middle of the street for hours, cordoned off by caution tape, his mother screaming on the border. Bitter’s vision went blurry as panic made a small tornado in her chest, knifing her body over and stealing blood from her numb fingertips. The feeling arrived too fast to stop, as it always did, drowning her and squeezing her heart so tight, she was entirely certain that if she took a step out of the gate, out of the safety of Eucalyptus, her heart would stop and she would die. She had to turn around, she had to go back to her room and lock the door, press a heavy chair against it to block out the forces on the outside, the hungry city of Lucille, eager to eat all its citizens. Bitter was running before she knew it, not out there to her friends but back into the building, back into the belly of the old brick, up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her as she tore off the backpack and threw it down with a cry of helpless rage. The walls still felt too far away, too useless, and Bitter was crying now, big gulping sobs as she dropped to her knees, her palms hitting the floor, the impact dull and dead. She curled into a tight ball and screamed into her legs, sobbing until her chest loosened and her heart decided not to crush itself.