It wasn’t until Sunday night that the subject of school arose, and Papa was the one who brought it up. They were sitting in the kitchen after supper—there was no place to sit in the parlor anymore; it was too full of store goods. Papa was reading the newspaper while Hanna bent over her arithmetic book.

“Heard that you and the Harris girls are the only ones in school now,” he said.

She looked up in surprise. She had not talked to him about Miss Walters’s proposal. As long as I’m attending school, it’s all the same to him. I don’t want to give him a chance to say I should stop going.

“Yes, Papa,” she replied carefully. “Miss Walters is preparing Bess and me for diploma examinations, at the end of next week.”

“So if you pass, you’ll be finished?”

“Yes.”

Silence. She was about to return to her studies when he spoke again.

“A few people have been saying I should take you out of school,” he said. “They say it’s not fair, that you’re keeping all the rest from attending.”

She wanted to protest that it was their choice to not send their children to school. But Papa was still talking.

“The way I see it, you’re not stopping anyone,” he said. “Only the government or the school board can do that.”

Hanna sat up a little straighter, heartened by his words. “Has the school board said anything to you?”

He shook his head. “Still, seems like Miss Walters has found a solution. You graduate—that’s what you want. And then you’re out of school—that’s what those other folks want. Everybody gets what they want.”

She hesitated, trying to decide what to say.

No, Papa. I do want to graduate, but I also want to be able to attend school like the other students, and I want everyone else to see that it’s only fair. Miss Walters’s solution doesn’t achieve any of that. Besides, why should people get what they want when what they want is just plain wrong?

She could have spoken those thoughts aloud. But she would have felt as if she was fighting battles everywhere, in town, in school, at home . . . She needed at least a little rest from the fighting.

“I’ll do my best to pass, Papa,” she said instead.

And after that? She would help Papa in the shop, just as Mama had done. Papa intended for Hanna to work in the storeroom, keeping track of orders, making lists of supplies that ran short.

Hanna had other plans.

Mama had been Papa’s seamstress, first as his employee and then, after they married, as his partner. Their men’s tailor shop had been patronized by all kinds of people, including both Chinese and white customers. The shop had earned an excellent reputation based on two things: Papa’s service and Mama’s sewing.