Cause a Riot

Prologue

The city was lively and loud, with people running to and fro bus stops, clinics, malls, and fast-food restaurants, despite it being so early. The sun tipped over the horizon, lighting the buildings with a blinding white light that reflected off the windows. A young boy held one of his sister's hands as his younger brother held the other to keep them from getting lost in the hoard of people.

"Hurry up," his sister called back where his parents were taking their sweet time matching their pace. "I'm going to be late!" Their mother pushed a stroller with their nine-month-old sister inside, huffing as she did.

"We're coming, Janna dear," she said with a slight chuckle in her voice. "You can run on ahead if you need to. We'll catch up."

"But then these two will get lost," she said, referring to the boy and his brother.

"We can go with you," the boy pouted. "I can run as fast as you can."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"All right, just try and keep up." His sister let go of his hand and ran ahead, the boy not wasting a second to give her a head start. He ran after her, his other brother forgotten. The boy bumped into people as he tried to move around them to catch up but he had already failed. She was way ahead of him. He gritted his teeth as he shoved someone's back out of his way, trying to keep track of his sister's black ponytail swishing in the crowd of blondies. He eyed a small brick wall that lined the sidewalk and made a beeline for it. He jumped on the wall, hearing his dad shouting "You'll fall from there!" but ignoring him. He ran along it, much faster now that he was out of the crowd. He spotted the soccer stadium ahead of them and ran faster, spotting his sister in the crowd. He smirked. He was almost caught up. He focused on his steps until he reached the filled parking lot of the stadium. He jumped off the wall and onto the sidewalk, running for the door. He found himself in line with his sister in no time, and they were neck to neck – for a brief moment anyway - before she sprinted ahead.

He ran after her but couldn't catch up. In the end, he was huffing heavily at the door of the stadium, sweat dripping down his temples. He leaned against the wall where his sister stood smugly. "Beat ya," she said, flicking his forehead.

He smacked her hand away. "It's because you're older," he said. "An entire five years."

"Excuses. You said you could run as fast as me and you can't. That's the point here."

"If we were the same age," the boy reasoned. "Then I'd be faster than you."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Whatever, don't you have a game to play?"

His sister smiled brightly. "That I do! Wish you're big sis luck, okay? I'll be looking for you in the audience so wave to me."

"No way, that's so embarrassing."

"Humph!" His sister flicked his head again.

"Ow, stop that!"

She smiled again and gave him an anxious hug. "If I lose, it'll be because you didn't wave to me." She let go and ran through the stadium doors. The boy pouted, not at all liking being treated younger, and entered the stadium after her. He walked down the hall into the audience stands and found himself a nice spot near the front. The pitch was empty for now. He knew both teams were preparing themselves. Excitement burned in his chest, and he couldn't wait to watch his sister play. It made him feel invincible even though he wasn't the one on the field.

His parents and younger brother found him in the stands and scooched their way over, sitting beside him. His dad gave him a frown. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

"It's okay. I never fell."

His father was going to retort but the DJ began speaking. In no time, the two teams had stepped onto the field, the opposing team in green and black and his sister's team in turquoise and white. He saw his sister bouncing on the soles of her feet from nervousness. She glanced into the audience and spotted him. His cheeks flushed but he did it – he gave her a big wave of his hand - if that's what it took to make her less antsy. It seemed to work. She smiled and stopped bouncing, a stronger, more determined look on her face. Then, the game started.

The boy sat up from his sleep, tears dripping from his eyes. He could distinctly remember his sister making the winning goal, her team jumping over her in sheer happiness. The boy had never been more relieved and happier in his eleven years of living. His sister had hugged him when they were leaving. "Your wave helped me win," she had said. "Thanks, Cuzo."

Cuzo covered his mouth so he wouldn't make any noise. It was the middle of the night after all, and his siblings had just barely managed to fall asleep on the cold rocky alleyway floor. Of the six members of his family, only three remained. His younger brother and sister lay on the thin sheet beside him, bruises and cuts on their faces. His older sister and parents – gone. Gone from his life – forever. Why?

Cuzo hadn't the slightest clue.'