“I like lacrosse,” he says. His hands tighten into fists and flex out again. “And last time I checked, I’m black, so it isn’t ‘reserved for white guys.’ And there are, what, five black kids at Drama rehearsals? I notice that shit, too, but I never say anything about it because I know you like Drama.”

“Don’t turn it around on me,” I snap. “This isn’t my problem.”

“What are you talking about?” He shakes his head, bewildered. “You’re the only one here with a problem, Simone.”

I’ve gotten stuff like this from white people. They don’t understand why I hate when people touch my hair, or they think I’m being dramatic when I say I get followed in a store. But Miles is black, just like me. I don’t know how he doesn’t get it.

“Forget it,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets. Maybe I’ll track down Claudia and Lydia and we can go get food together. “I’ll see you later.”

“No, nah, come on.” He grabs my arm, and I snatch it away. “Talk to me about this. I don’t get it.”

“You don’t get it?” My voice rises. “Miles, if one of them saw you outside their house at night, they’d call the cops. You know why?”

“It’s not about that,” he says. “It doesn’t always have to be about that all the time. It’s about the game.”

“I just…” My voice trails off as I sigh. “It would bother me is all I’m saying. Hanging out with them and knowing what I know.”

“I don’t think about it all the time.” His voice is soft. For a second, I feel like a jerk. “You don’t believe me, but it’s easy to forget about on the field. It’s like being at rehearsal. We’re all part of the same team. This stuff doesn’t matter when we’re out there together.”

“Miles,” I say, lowering my voice. “I wish…”

I take a deep breath. How do I say this?

“I don’t know,” I finally say. “Being black isn’t something you should have to forget about.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” he says, shaking his head. “What I want to forget about—it’s not being black. It’s the way people look at me. I’m supposed to be scary on the field. It’s different than people seeing a big black kid walking down the block. You know what I mean?”

I do know what he means. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have HIV, that I didn’t have to worry about disclosing before sex, but I mostly wish I could get rid of other people’s reactions. It’s not fair for me to be mad because he loves something. Miles isn’t the one who walks around saying stupid shit.