side of the building where Amira was climbing, taking the umbrella with him, leaving Mr. Pierce drenched.
* * *
Lindsay watched Amira shuffle across the window ledge to reach for a water pipe. It looked much too flimsy to hold Amira, but she seemed to know this, know exactly how much weight she could put on it. She saw another ledge jutting out, a shelf for an air conditioner made of concrete, not just one of those aluminum bits bolted onto other parts of the building. To get there, she’d have to use the water pipe running along the side of the building as a kind of video-game kicking-off point to give her the extra boost she needed to reach the ledge.
From there, she’d be able to reach Jordi, swing him onto the ledge with her. It was about ten feet away, off to her right. A basketball hoop, essentially. But she didn’t have any room to run, to build up to the momentum necessary for her to reach and not fall to her death.
She looked up, made eye contact with Omar. She saw blood on his shirt, his or Jordi’s she couldn’t be sure. She saw Jordi slipping a little at a time. The angle Omar had, there was no way he could hang on for long. Especially if he was hurt. So Amira jumped.
When she kicked the water pipe, it creaked before giving way with a boom, some bolts tearing free from the building. The crowd gasped, and her mother clutched at her chest, as if the sound had emanated from her heart. But Amira’s foot had taken all it needed from the pipe. It tilted ominously over the people below, but Amira was safely on the ledge.
She’s just as much of a badass as Kenji said she was, Lindsay thought. Dozens in the crowd had more or less thought the same.
It wasn’t quite enough, though. Amira could reach Jordi’s fingertips, but with him still knocked out and Omar unable to keep him from swaying, there was no way to bring him down. Even if Omar could drop him slowly, the ledge was only big enough for Amira to stand on.
It was at that moment the local fire department showed up with a truck that had one of those classic long, rescuing ladders. The crowd cheered, and in response the engine blared its horn, which scared the figurative shit out of everyone present, Omar included. His pained body gave a quick jerk, and though he almost instantly squeezed Jordi again, the body in his arms slipped at least six inches.
Amira took advantage and seized Jordi’s wrists. More gasps from the crowd, from the students who’d crowded into the green room to catch all the action from the window (poor Malik reached for his earphones to tune out their chatter, just thirty pages to go). The fire truck tried to drive into the school for the rescue, then stopped as a firefighter smacked his palm on the side of the truck. The ladder was too tall to fit through the gate.
* * *
In the foyer, Marisa watched all this on her phone. The cameras were rolling. Marisa found the feed with Zaira and was amazed to see what was happening outside, what she had put in motion. An email came in from the board. Re: Demand #23, on leading local initatiatives... She clicked it open and scrolled past the part which read For God’s sake open the door in order to scan the details. Another demand fallen. Still no Lokoloko.
It was 1:45. She switched back to the BBC feed, Zaira’s face taking up most of the screen. Her classmates crowded around the broken window. That felt like a metaphor for something, but Marisa couldn’t land on what. Something about lock-in night or the reefs or her opening the door early. She changed the feed to a channel that had outdoor cameras so she could watch Amira.
* * *
Peejay felt Omar’s body quiver, the poor, brave soul. Whether it was fear alone, or fear coupled with exhaustion, with an inability to hold on much longer, it was hard to tell. With his demons gone for the moment, Peejay felt strong, and he held on to Omar a little harder, hooking his ankles around a nearby picnic table to anchor himself further. He noticed just how many people were holding on to Omar.
Not trying to pull, having heard his shouts, but just helping by holding on. Those who weren’t were on their