beyond her willpower. We try to butt heads with her, we’ll all come away with headaches. As I’m sure the school board already knows.”
“What are you saying, then? We convince the school board?” Amira said. “That doesn’t seem like it gets Marisa to a hospital any sooner.”
“Not the board,” Peejay said. He gestured toward the windows, where most of the people in a nearby class, including the teacher, Mr. Sanchez, had stopped pretending they were getting anything academic accomplished and had resorted to staring out at the Protectors. “Them.”
Now all four of them met eyes with the class, and a brief staring contest ensued until the other students started shifting uncomfortably and grudgingly turned their attention back to Mr. Sanchez.
“Go on,” Amira said.
Peejay thought about what Hamish would do in this situation, how he would’ve done all he could to do what was right. Marisa was right. In so many ways, she was right. Hamish would’ve chained himself to a door with her; he would’ve used whatever was in his power to get others to see it, too.
All week, Peejay had been paralyzed by grief, physically revolted by the fact that he would never see his brother again, never get to tell him about the party, never get to tell him anything. And while he’d been prepared by the doctors to expect it as the range of outcomes, there was no preparing for this. Now, though, Peejay had a thought that eased his pain, however slightly. Hamish was gone, but his goodness didn’t have to die with him.
He breathed in deep, maybe the deepest breath he’d taken since lock-in night, the only one that managed to really draw oxygen into his lungs in a week. “We’ve all been sitting around, twiddling our thumbs.”
“You’ve barely done any twiddling,” Kenji said. They all glared at him. “Sorry, not important.”
“You’re right.” Peejay wanted to offer the boy a smile, but he wasn’t quite ready for that. “Everyone here has been waiting for the adults to do something. Set us free one way or the other. But we have more power than that. We can at least try to push them. Our parents, the board, our famous uncles and godfathers, our embassies and governments, our goddamn babysitters. Some of this is in our hands.”
He still had it. That ability to get people to fall in step, the ability to charm. In every classroom, heads turned in his direction. Even though they hadn’t heard his words, it was something to see him emerge again from beneath the pashmina. Students outside the building, even, found themselves cocking their ears in his direction, though they’d only heard Dov’s screams and nothing else, didn’t know what had changed inside.
“And if they don’t listen to us? The way they haven’t been listening to Marisa?” Amira asked.
Peejay sighed. “Girl, I don’t know. But what else do we have but to hope and shout?”
* * *
So it was decided they would go to their classes and think about how best to shout.
Amira went off to tell Marisa, and Peejay went in to the library to use a computer. Meanwhile Kenji put a hand on Celeste’s forearm, asking if she could hang back. Unsure what he wanted, Celeste just looked at his hand and waited for him to speak.
“I have a confession,” Kenji said.
Celeste raised her eyebrows.
“You know demand number seventeen?”
“Was that the one with the boats?”
Kenji shook his head. “Lokoloko Island.” Celeste nodded, cautious and curious if this was going to be another improv thing, or something else.
It felt like he had no choice, like not bringing it up would be a disloyalty to Marisa and the Protectors. And unlike many others at CIS or in the world, he was in a unique position to at least speak directly to someone who could make a difference.
So he told her about his dad, and that one phone call could probably change things.
“Kenji, that’s great.”
“No, that’s the thing.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “That basically guarantees it not getting met. My dad does not say yes to things. He says no. I just don’t know how to tell Marisa, you know? It’s been killing me to have this secret, and I just needed to tell someone.”
Celeste was about to push him further, but the look of relief on Kenji’s face gave her pause, coupled with the fact that she’d been entrusted with a secret. That was something friends did. Then before she could gather herself, Kenji breathed a sigh of relief,