I put them on the counter, congratulating myself. I walk slowly to the front. When I turn around again the group of boys has moved, with silent precision, and surrounds the white kid, whose smile has turned sickly at the corners. The kid who had the books is sitting next to him now, his face locked on his target, talking low. Another kid in the group stands over the white kid and says things I don't quite catch but which refer to his skin color.
Snickers ripple around the room.
I sit behind the teacher's desk, trying to hide my growing alarm. She trying not to notice. I sit in the teacher's chair, feeling like my features have been glued together, when suddenly the lights go out. I jump out of my chair to the lightswitch, but the switch doesn't work when I flick it. I push open the door, the only source of light, and go to the class phone to call the office.