The green and red of the glass bottles crunch under my sneakers. The sound is brazen, intrusive, unwanted. I try to hop to the clear side of the street but only land into more shards. The noise tears through the leaden quiet of the night.


I force my eyes up from their usual place just in front of my feet. The street is empty, no distracting eyes to sink in. I am good at avoiding them, have always been. Today Ms. Mitchell asked us what our superpower is. If I had felt daring enough to raise my hand, I would have said, “evading omnipresent orbs.” Then some jittery laugh, perhaps? To...