“I’m not serious. We just reenacted, like, half of The Last Dragon. How am I a serious person?”

“You just broke up an interracial couple. Franklyn will never date a white girl again. Why? ’Cause he’ll be too scared that they would run into you.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t break them up.”

“Please, right now, Franklyn won’t even go near white bread, let alone white girls. You got him shook. To be honest, I was kind of scared of you.”

I sigh and play with the rim of my mug, skimming the surface with my index finger. “I don’t want people to just look at me and think I’m some raving Afrocentric lunatic.”

“Guess that’s why you didn’t want to talk back in the basement?”

“Yeah . . .”

“If that’s who you are, that’s cool. I mean, be you.”

“But that’s not who I am,” I protest. “I’m into fun stuff like parties, concerts, and not voting.” I laugh. “But seriously, Devonte, when we’re old enough, you have to vote. You won’t believe how far some people will go to limit Black votes. I mean, everything from closing polling stations in low-income neighborhoods to gerrymandering. And let’s not even talk about what the Native Americans go through during elections . . .” My voice fades when I realize I have launched into a speech.

Devonte doesn’t stop me. Instead, he listens. “Keep going. This is interesting.”

“No, it’s not! And that’s not what I want to talk about. I want to be wild and crazy. I want to get things pierced or tattooed. Or maybe both!”

He laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I demand.

“Those things don’t really sound like you.”

“I told you, I’m wild and crazy. Pay attention.”

He nods. “What wild things have you done—for real?”

I clear my throat and spit out an impressive, albeit sparse list: “We were boycotting this fast food place that supports anti-LGBTQ groups. One day—and I’m not proud of this—I went in and bought a large fry.”

He suppresses a smile and says, “That’s boss right there . . .”

“Exactly! And one time, I went to a fair for Black business owners—didn’t buy anything. Bam! Rebel.”

He’s no longer trying to hide his laugh. “You are a trip,” he says, once he catches his breath.

“Fine, maybe I’m not as wild as I want to be—yet.”

“It’s all good. But what’s it like with a mom that’s all over the news? Like, when you were little, what did she tell you about racism? Did she go all Malcolm X on you or what?”

“Nah, actually the lesson on race only took two minutes.”

“Really?”