Mom is black and Daddy is white. I am an in-between. At school, the boys call me a white nigger and café au lait. I don’t know what café au lait is, but I know what a nigger is and I tell them I’m not and they say, you’re right, you’re only half, and then they laugh and push me down and throw things at me.

One day while I’m walking home, two white boys come up behind me and grab my books. I’m shouting at them to give them back but they laugh and say, give them back, give them back in the same voice Daddy uses when Mom tells him that the kids are hungry, why don’t you do something for a change? Anyways, now they’re running after me shouting café au lait, café au lait and throwing rocks at me. I try to hide behind the dumpsters in the alley, but they caught me and now I’m done for. They hit me and push me back and forth between them until I’m dizzy and feel like I’m gonna throw up because they’re hitting me in the stomach. I scream until the man in the store next-door comes out and chases the boys away, and I thank him, but he’s gone, because he’s white and doesn’t want to talk to a little half-colored boy.

When I walk in the house, everything is dark. Mom has the curtains closed and the light from outside has to fight through them. I see Mom sitting in the corner with one twin at each breast.

She asks me how was my day and I tell her about the boys and how they called me names and took my books. When she asks what they called me, I look over into the kitchen, because I know Daddy is there and if I say the words the boys said, he will hit me. So I go to Mom and whisper it in her ear. She closes her eyes and tears leak out and she rocks back and forth, back and forth and cries, and I wonder if the babies’ milk tastes salty.