He was not the one asking for a loan, but he was part of the presentation, and he should have worn nicer clothes as well. Instead, he had on his regular torn jeans and faded Bulls t-shirt. But maybe that was part of Daddy’s plan. Maybe he wanted them to look like they needed the money.

Inside a gleaming modern office with windows that went all the way up to the ceiling, they met with an old white man who shook their hands while wearing an expression that said he was going to wash his hands as soon as they were out of sight. Reading over the papers Daddy had filled out, and glancing periodically at the computer monitor on the desk in front of him, he said, “I believe we have everything we need here. Is there anything else you think I should know?”

It was time for the pitch, and Daddy was ready. “What our community needs,” he told the banker, “is a place where kids, kids like my son here, can spend time safe and supervised, where they can do their homework or socialize without fear.”

The white man looked bored. “There are plenty of afterschool programs. Schools have them, churches have them, the Boys and Girls Clubs have them. And they’re not exactly moneymakers.”

“But our neighborhood doesn’t have one,” his dad emphasized. “And making money isn’t the point. Kids need—”

The man laughed. A sick, sickening sound that reminded Rayshon of a smoker’s cough. “Making money isn’t the point? It’s exactly the point! We’re a bank, not a charity.” His mouth was smiling but his eyes were not. “Look, Mr. Washington, you seem like a nice guy, but you’re just not a businessman, and our institution only provides loans to businesses. Now I thank you for coming in, but I don’t have any more time to waste on this—”

“Waste?” Daddy said, and Rayshon knew at that moment that if there had ever been a chance to get funding for the afterschool program from the bank, that chance was gone.

The white man stood. “Good day, sir.” He nodded at someone behind them, and a security guard Rayshon had not realized was there stepped forward, ready to escort them out.

Anger and humiliation were battling within his daddy, and Rayshon would not know which one won until they were alone. They were walked back through the bank like criminals, and though the door was opened for them, it was not a sign of respect. It was to let them know they did not belong here.

When he grew up, Rayshon decided, he would run his own bank. He would never let a thing like this happen. He would help people, not hurt them, and if there was a good idea, he would give money for it no matter where the idea came from.