I dipped my foot into the creek water and watched tiny minnows battle the currents. School had just ended, and I still had goosebumps from the morning’s events. My body felt tense, coiled like a spring. At least the creek was peaceful. I could sit for hours, unbothered and hidden by the tall grasses and weeds.

Not far away, a group of children were gathering water in tin buckets. They were the city’s poor, those whose families couldn’t afford running water. Their conversation carried across the river, mixing with the bubble of the stream. I flopped down onto the riverbank and began to relax as the sun warmed my skin.

“Glace!” someone called. I sat up to see Owen holding the hand of a brunette with soft brown eyes. I knew her well. Katrina was our mutual friend and, as of recently, Owen’s girlfriend. She broke into a jog, pulling Owen after her, their footsteps padded by the soft river grass. They threw themselves down next to me.

“How are you, Glace?” Katrina asked softly. “You seem troubled lately.”

“I’m fine,” I responded in a low voice. “It’s just that we’ve been more involved with the group, and I’m nervous. I couldn’t sleep last night, and I forgot to set an alarm. I can’t help but wonder if we’re all going to end up jailed, or worse.”

Owen shook his head, his short blonde hair blowing in the breeze “We’ll be able to leave before any of that happens. My dad said he’d make sure of it. As long as you stop showing up late, no one will notice a thing.” Katrina nodded, looking up at him with eyes filled with adoration. I balled up my hands in the grass. Katrina knows nothing, I thought. She is as new to this life as she is to being Owen’s girlfriend. We risk everything for the smallest chance of escape. Still, instead of arguing, I swallowed my protests. It wouldn’t hurt them to be happy, at least for a little while.

We sat by the stream for hours. The silence was comfortable, broken only by an occasional word. Katrina napped on Owen’s shoulder. Eventually, when the sun began to dim, the bell singling the end of the work day sounded loudly over the riverbank.

I sighed, tilting my face up to the sky. Katrina nudged my shoulder. “Come on.” She pulled Owen after her. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I asked.

“You’ll see!” she shouted, taking my hand. “Let’s get you out of this funk.” She led us down the river and over the small bridge. As we went deeper into the poor part of town, farther from the Fortress, I realized her intentions.

“Katrina. You’re NOT taking us to the Byre.”

“Why not?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Right, babe?” she nudged Owen.

“Sure,” he said.

I frowned. “Katrina, you didn’t meet with us last night. I’m running on like three hours of sleep. Besides, it’s too dangerous. I’m already in trouble.”

My protests were ignored as I trudged behind the couple. Around us, the wooden buildings became fewer and farther between, replaced by small sheds which served as homes for the outcasts. Unconsciously, I drew closer to Owen. I could feel eyes on me from every direction.

As the sky darkened, the neighborhood seemed to awaken. Women and small children emerged from their dwellings, dirty and hollow-eyed. Most said nothing, only watching us pass by with suspicious glares. I swerved as a woman not much older than myself tried to grasp my arm. “Food,” she gasped, her hands shaking.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry… I have nothing.”

Katrina reached into her bag and handed the woman a palm-sized box of nuts. “You need it more than I.”

Like vultures, the rest of the outcasts descended on us. “We have nothing else,” Owen shouted. Reluctantly, they retreated, and we continued down the dirt road.

My heart was pounding. I did not fear the people, but their desperation. They were not recognized by the government, and with no access to jobs or ration cards, they were cursed to struggle until the day they died. My goosebumps returned. “Why don’t we go to my place instead? It’s not too late to-”

It was no use. We had already reached the Byre, a barn as large as my house. Beams of light shone through its cracking boards, reaching up into the dusk. The whole building shook from the music within. Katrina grinned from ear to ear and took both Owen’s hand and my own. “Come on!”

She grabbed one of the barn doors and forced it open with her hip. As we entered, we became part of another world. The musicians were starting a new song. The sound of a flute drifted over our heads, forming a familiar folk rhythm. The crowd parted and came together in new ways, moving around the musicians as water moves around rocks in a stream. The drummers, playing on wooden buckets, picked up their cue. The rhythm was brisk and sharp, and the crowd began to clap along.

Katrina threw herself in the middle, and the crowd parted for her. She spun once, twice, thrice, with her arms raised above her head. She stopped, exactly on the beat, to open and close her legs in a move called the grapevine. Her feet moved lightly and swiftly on the wooden floor. Owen stepped in to spin her, and she let out a laugh as clear as a bell.

A familiar man had wandered to my side. “She’s a beautiful dancer,” he said in my ear.

“Reckless, but beautiful.”

“You were the same, once.” I smiled. For an old man, he was a smooth-talker. He was a common patron of the Byre, which was a shelter for the poor during the day and a club at night. Every evening, the residents dragged their things to the edges of the barn to make space for the dancers and musicians. Then they themselves danced, rising up and moving to the music in shockingly graceful ways.

“Have fun,” the man urged me, “like you used to.”

I made a noncommittal noise and moved closer to the band, keeping Owen and Katrina in my line of vision. If the Byre was raided, we would have to escape quickly.

The music swelled as a powerful cello took the melody. The song was a familiar, dark tune called the Moonlight Rumba. I stepped to the beat, twisting my body to either side. The exertion made my heart pump. I jumped into the air as the drums beat, and a small laugh escaped my lips. My hair grew damp with perspiration as I let myself fall deeper into the music.

This is all the freedom I have, so I might as well enjoy it a little.