Rodgers and Melissa turned and saw Billy standing there. The young boy walked briskly toward them.

"Hey, Billy!" Rodgers said.

He saluted, the boy, who saluted back. Then he bent down and they hugged.

"Good morning, General Rodgers," Billy said. "WHOA stands for Whites Only Association. Jim said they want to stop everyone else. 'Just say WHOA!' "

"I see," Rodgers said. He continued to squat in front of the boy. "How do you feel about that?"

He rolled a shoulder. "I dunno."

"You don't know?" Melissa asked.

"Well," Billy said, "last night, when I saw the photo I thought about my dad being killed. Then I was upset."

"You understand," said Rodgers, "that these people are really, really bad. And that most people don't believe the terrible things they believe in."

"Jim said that people do but they just don't admit it."

"That isn't true," Rodgers said. "Everybody's got 'pet peeves,' little things that really annoy them like barking dogs or car alarms. And some people do hate one or two other people, like a boss or a neighbor or--"

"My dad hated people who drank instant coffee," Billy said. "He said they were Phyllis-somebodies."

"Philistines," Melissa said. She looked away quickly and rolled her lips together.

Rodgers smiled at the boy. "I'm sure your dad didn't really hate them. We use that word pretty freely when it's not exactly what we mean. The point is, Jim is wrong. I know a lot of folks, and I don't know anyone who hates whole bunches of people. Guys like Jim-- it makes them feel good to put other people down. They have to hate, it's like a disease. A mental disease. If they didn't hate immigrants or people who followed a different religion, they'd hate people with different color hair, or people who were shorter, or people who liked hamburgers instead of hot dogs."

Billy chuckled.

"What I'm trying to say is, these people are evil and you shouldn't believe what they tell you. I've got books and videotapes about people like Winston Churchill and Frederick Douglass and Mohandas Gandhi."

"That's a funny name."

"It may sound a little strange to you," Rodgers said, "but his ideas are really good. All of these men have wonderful things to say, and I'll bring some of that stuff next time. We can read and listen to them together."

"Okay," Billy said.

Rodgers stood and cocked a thumb toward the printer stand. All of a sudden, a long-haired Superman didn't seem so bad.

"Meantime," Rodgers said, "I brought some comic books for you. Batman. today, Gandhi next time."

"Thanks!" Billy said. He stole a look at his mother, who nodded once. Then he bolted over and grabbed the stack of magazines.

"You can read those after school," Melissa told her son as he flipped through them.