“You the little lady who started all this. The one with the n****r blood.”
I took a deep breath and balled my fists. “I am the young woman with African American ancestry, yes.” My story with Moses’ cemetery had been big news around here. “What do you want?”
“We wanted to try and talk some sense into you, tell you why you needed to stop this n****r-loving bullshit and come to love your own kind.”
All my training in manners, all the southern politeness that had been drilled into me from the day I was born fell away like scales, and I walked up to that man, cleared my throat, and spit in his face. “If you think you’re my kind,” I said, “you got another think coming.” And I turned around and walked straight toward the stage.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sarah, and she was grinn
