“Can Jimmy come out and play?”

“I’m terribly sorry,” James Senior said, “but you must have the wrong house. There is no ‘Jimmy’ here.”

A man and woman were walking toward the house. Cradled on her hip, the woman carried a small child of no more than two years old.

They were colored.

Bobby had considered faking sick—or skipping school—but where would he go all day? He’d have to face it, eventually.

As he bent to pick up the scattered newspapers, Bobby was suddenly aware of being watched.