I freeze. This girl isn’t Black. She’s about as far from Black as possible. So why is she talking to me like that?

Her friend cuts in front of her and orders a large fries; her other friend has a Diet Coke and a snack wrap. The girl orders a Happy Meal, and as I angrily stuff the items into the box, the irony is not lost on me.

Three customers later, I’m still watching her out of the corner of my eye as she eats her cheeseburger.

I turn to the runner who’s working at the register with me. “I’ll be right back.”

I walk into the dining area where the girl is still holding court with her friends. “…so I said, right to her face, Who lit the fuse on your tampon?—”

“Excuse me,” I interrupt. “I did not appreciate the way you spoke to me at the counter.”

A hot blush burns in her cheeks. “Wow, okay. I’m sorry,” she says, but her lips twitch.

My boss suddenly is standing beside me. Jeff is a former middle manager at a ball bearing plant who got cut when the economy tanked, and he runs the restaurant like we are giving out state secrets and not French fries. “Ruth? Is there a problem?”

There are so many problems. From the fact that I am not this girl’s mama to the fact that she will not remember this conversation an hour from now. But if I choose this particular moment to stand up for myself, I will pay a price. “No, sir,” I tell Jeff, and in silence, I walk back to my register.

—

MY DAY ONLY gets worse when I leave work and see six missed phone calls from Kennedy. I immediately ring her back. “I thought you agreed that working with Wallace Mercy was a bad idea,” she hammers, without even saying hello.

“What? I did. I do.”

“So you had no idea that he was leading a march in your honor today in front of the courthouse?”

I stop walking, letting the foot traffic funnel around me. “You gotta be kidding. Kennedy, I did not talk to Wallace.”

“Your sister was shoulder to shoulder with him.”

Well, mystery solved. “Adisa tends to do whatever she wants.”

“Can’t you control her?”

“I’ve been trying for forty-four years but it hasn’t worked yet.”

“Try harder,” Kennedy tells me.

Which is how I wind up taking the bus to my sister’s apartment, instead of going right home. When Donté lets me in, Adisa is sitting on the couch playing Candy Crush on her phone, even though it is nearly dinnertime. “Well, look what the cat drug in,” she says. “Where you been?”

“It’s been crazy since New Year’s. Between work, and going over things for trial, I haven’t had a free minute.”

“I came by the other day, did Edison tell you?”

I kick her feet off the couch so there’s room for me to sit. “Did you come over to tell me your new best friend is Wallace Mercy?”

Adisa’s eyes light up. “You see me on the news today? It was just my elbow and up to here on my neck, but you can tell it’s me by the coat. I wore the one with the leopard collar—”

“I want you to stop,” I say. “I don’t need Wallace Mercy.”

“Your white lawyer tell you that?”

“Adisa,” I sigh. “I never wanted to be someone’s poster child.”

“You didn’t even give Reverend Mercy a chance. You know how many of our people have had experiences like yours? How many times they been told no because of their skin color? This is bigger than just your story, and if some good can come out of what happened to you, why not let it?” Adisa sits up. “All he wants is a chance to sit down with us, Ruth. On national television.”

Alarm bells ring in my head. “Us,” I repeat.

Adisa’s gaze slides away. “Well,” she admits, “I indicated that I might be able to change your mind.”

“So this isn’t even about helping me move forward. It’s about you getting recognition. Jesus, Adisa. This is a new low, even for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She gets to her feet and stares down at me, her hands balanced on her hips. “You really think I’d use my baby sister like that?”

I challenge her. “You really gonna stand here drenched to the bone and tell me it’s not raining?”

Before she can answer there is a loud crash as a door falls back on its hinges and slams into the wall. Tabari swaggers out from one of the bedrooms with a friend. “You rob a trucker fuh that hat, yo?” He laughs. They are amped up, loud, their pants riding so low I don’t know why they even bother to wear them. All I can think is that I’d never let Edison out of the house like that, like he was looking to intimidate.

Then Tabari’s friend turns around and I realize it’s my son.

“Edison?”

“Ain’t it nice,” Adisa says, smiling. “The cousins hanging?”

“What are you doing here?” Edison says, in a tone that lets me know this is not a pleasant surprise.

“Don’t you have homework to do?”

“Did it.”

“College applications?”

He looks at me, his eyes hooded. “They ain’t due for another week.”

Ain’t?

“What’s the problem?” he asks. “You’re always telling me how important family is.” He says that word as if it is a swear.

“Where exactly are you and Tabari going?”