Cool with it? I was blinking back tears of relief and gratitude. Fake an address? Hey, I’m a pro. It’s no different than pretending to live in Bay Shore, only, according to Charles, I won’t have to sign any change-of-address forms. He warned me not to tell anyone about the scheme because if all the other “rich white kids” find out about it, they’ll all start trying to shift their physicals to San Francisco, and that’ll be the end of it. As soon as the Berkeley chapter of the Mobe creates the fake address, I’ll fly out there for my physical, get my 1-Y, and be a free man.

“Were you out there on vacation?” I ask.

Charles gives me a disdainful look. “Could you please try to be a little less bourgeois, white boy? I know it’s hard, but don’t make me regret telling you about San Francisco.”

“Sorry.” You can take the white boy of out of suburbs, but . . .

“It was an exploratory expedition. Spent most of my time in Oakland, with the Panthers.”

I stare through the smoke at him. The charges against the Panther 21 in New York may be trumped-up bullshit, but the last I heard, the organization was still a self-proclaimed violent revolutionary group. Members have been convicted of murder, as well as of engaging in gun battles with the police.

“Easy does it, my man.” Charles puts his hand on my arm when he sees the surprise on my face. “Yeah, they can be violent, but only when violence is used against them. The reason they organized in the first place is because the Oakland pigs are the most racist and brutal police force in the country. How else were they supposed to protect themselves? Maybe you haven’t noticed, but we live in a racist society, dig? The Panthers make an important point. Why should brothers be fighting for the freedom of the South Vietnamese when what we should really be fighting for is our freedom here?”

He lets go of my arm. “Last week opened my eyes. Things have changed. The Panthers are into social programs now. Feed the children. Kids who’ve had breakfast do better in school. Makes sense, right? It’s hard to focus on learning when you’re hungry and not sure where your next meal’ll come from.”

Even in my barely functional family, I’ve never, ever had to worry about not having enough to eat. Never even considered the possibility of police brutality. There are no black kids at my high school, no black families in my all-white community or at the country club. It seems incredible that for so much of my life I didn’t even think about how anyone else (except for farmers) lived. Rich white boy, indeed.