was blood. I’m laughing because it’s
only berry juice.”
My mom thought everything
was funny. There was no subject
too dark or too painful for her to
tackle with humor. “Look on the
bright side,” she said, laughing and
pointing to the half of me covered
in dark berry juice. “Now you really
are half black and half white.”
“It’s not funny!”
“Trevor, you’re okay,” she said.
“Go and wash up. You’re not hurt.
You’re hurt emotionally. But you’re
not hurt.”
Half an hour later, Abel showed
up. At that point Abel was still my