"Wait, what's not legal?"
But he's already fired. I closed the eyes. This is crazy. We are going to die. And then my parents will really kill me.
A block later, we're still alive. I narrow one eye open. Willem leans fully forward on the handlebars, standing effortlessly on the pedals, while I lean back, legs dangling next to the rear wheel. I open my other eye, loosen my wet grip on the hem of her shirt. The marina is far behind us, and we're on a normal street, in a bike lane, riding along with all the other gray bikes.
We turn onto a congested street full of construction, half the avenue blocked by scaffolding and blockades, and I'm looking at all the graffiti; the SOS, like on the shirt of that band Sous ou Sur is scrawled there. I'm about to point it out to Willem, but then I turn i
