“Oh shit,” Auggie said. “No, no, no.”
“What?” Dylan asked.
People crowded Wroxall College’s South Quad. Many of them were young, probably college students. Two girls with matching lime-green watch caps hugged each other near Auggie. A guy with a wispy goatee was carrying a guitar on his back. A couple of Dylan’s friends had come with them, with the improbable names of Burger and Smash, whom Auggie knew from the times he’d interrupted hacky-sack games. Burger was picking his nose.
The night was crisp and clear, the cold so intense that Auggie’s eyes watered, and his feet were already numb in the Jordans. Dylan was holding him close, both arms wrapped around Auggie, carrying the faint smell of weed. The warmth was nice, but Auggie found himself struggling with the urge to pull away. That urge doubled when he spotted Theo moving through the crowd. Theo didn’t seem to have seen them yet, but it was only a matter of time. In spite of the crowd, Theo was heading directly toward them, his gaze scanning back and forth.
Auggie tried to drop down, acting out of instinct more than anything else, but Dylan’s arms were too tight. Dylan leaned in, the weed smell overpowering now, and whispered, “Hey, you ok?”
“Yes,” Auggie said, “can we just move a little over—”
“Auggie?” Theo said. “Auggie!”
Auggie groaned. “Hi, Theo.”
Dylan was glaring.
“Hey, hi.” Theo glanced around, taking in Dylan, taking in Dylan’s arms around Auggie, taking in Burger and Smash. Auggie could hear his thoughts, even if Theo had the decency—this time—not to say them out loud. These are your friends? This is who you want to hang out with?
“Who are you?” Dylan said his chest puffing out.
Auggie wondered if he could die just standing there. “Dylan, this is Theo. Theo, this is Dylan.”
They shook hands. Theo grimaced, and although the expression was faint, Auggie noticed. He also noticed Dylan’s chest puffing up again.
One of the girls with the lime-green hats stomped her feet. Holding the guitar at a strange angle over his shoulder, the kid with the goatee strummed a cord. This, Auggie was sure, was approximately the same experience as the world ending.
“So,” Theo said. “You’re Dylan.”
“You know what?” Auggie said. “We were just about to try to move locations and get up near the front.”
“Great,” Theo said. “Let’s go.”
They made their way to the front of the crowd, with Dylan doing a lot of the elbowing and muscling. In order to do so, he had to release Auggie, and Auggie found himself hanging back with Theo.
“He seems nice,” Theo said.
“Do not.” Auggie stopped himself. “Just do not do this right now.”
Theo raised one eyebrow. He had his long, strawberry-blond hair tucked under a hat, and he smelled like cedar. Over the murmur of the crowd, he said, “I’m sorry, I guess I misread things. Do you want me to go?”
Auggie picked at his lip. Then, shaking his head, he said, “No. I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m just nervous. I want you guys to get along.” Then, unable to stop himself, he added, “He really is a great guy.”
“Well, if he’s a great guy, we’re going to get along.”
It took Auggie a few more minutes to recognize the weight that Theo had placed on that if.
It looked like most of the college had turned out for the demonstration. Since coming to Wahredua, this was the most racial diversity in one place that Auggie had seen. It reminded him—in good ways—of California. Although there were still plenty of white faces in the crowd, the majority of the audience seemed to be black, with heavy pockets of people who looked like they were of Asian descent, or Latino, or Pacific Islander. A young woman with her dark hair chopped short was carrying a poster that said I am the Cheyenne Nation. Justice for Deja is Justice for Everyone. She smiled when she met Auggie’s gaze and then her eyes slid back toward the podium.
The stand that had been erected had obviously been done quickly and without any regard for longevity. The wood was particleboard painted black, and judging by the dust, the scuffs, the sticky residue, and the strip of old green tape, Auggie guessed that this had come from somewhere in the theater department. Wires and cables snaked through the snow, connecting the microphone on the stand with speakers placed at various locations throughout the crowd. Auggie wasn’t sure how long this event had been in the planning, but it definitely showed an attention to detail and a care in execution that made him realize the people behind it were more than angry kids. There were brains at work here. Serious brains.
As though summoned by the thought, a group of young black men and women emerged from the crowd and mounted the stand. All of them were wearing long-sleeved black shirts with white letters that said Justice for Deja. They had sacrificed their coats in spite of the cold so that the shirts could be seen. Several of them were shivering and chafing their arms as they huddled together on the stand in a last-minute conversation.
“I didn’t know you were going to come to this,” Theo said. “I wish I had. We could’ve come together.”
“Yeah,” Auggie said. “Social justice is really important to me.”
“Is that how you met Dylan?”
Auggie shook his head. Before he had to explain how he had met Dylan—he could imagine the look on Theo’s face if he ever learned that they’d met at the Sigma Sigma move-in—a young woman approached the microphone.
She was tall and muscular, her skin very dark and her hair in a tight fade. In that moment, Auggie thought she might be a lesbian. He couldn’t have said why, but the thought came to him, and it wouldn’t go.
“My name is Nia,” the girl said. “Deja was my sister. Thank you for coming.” She stopped. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. “It’s hard for me to believe that if things had been different, my sister would be here right now. She was an excellent student. She was an amazing athlete. She had committed to come to Wroxall,” at this point, she waved a piece of paper as evidence, “and I was looking forward to being her teammate as well as her sister and her best friend.” She paused again, this time to wipe her eyes. “I want you to know how much tonight means to me and my family. Deja would be so proud to know that each and every one of you is not willing to look the other way in the face of injustice. I know that together we can—”
The crack of a gun interrupted.
Nia stumbled back, one hand to her chest. Then she fell.
The crowd dissolved into chaos. More shots followed. Snow puffed up from the quad only a few feet from where Auggie stood. Screaming, pushing, shoving, fighting. Everyone surged toward the exits. Someone must have hit the podium because it toppled off the stand, and feedback from the mic exploded over the speakers. A young guy in an enormous, puffy jacket crashed into Auggie. Auggie stumbled, and he would have gone down except Theo caught his arm.
Auggie!”
The shout came from Dylan, somewhere behind Auggie. He glanced around, darting aside when a mother carrying a small child almost checked him with her shoulder. Then he saw movement along the balcony of a building at the far end of the quad. Tall, narrow windows were full of light, and framed by them, the shooter carried a rifle as he ran.
“There!”
Theo was still holding his arm.
“Auggie!”
“Dylan’s trying to get to you,” Theo said. “I think we should—”
Auggie broke away from Theo, racing toward the far end of the quad where he’d seen movement on the balcony.