Jim doesn’t say lawwwd. He says Lord, perfectly pronouncing all of the consonants. Everyone is enthralled. Many of them place their palms over their heart or raise a hand high in the air, moved by his angelic singing. I close my eyes and try to sense something inside as he sings, but I only feel hunger pangs for more cookies. When Jim finishes, the crowd gives him a standing ovation. They clap like they just witnessed Jesus turn water into wine. I stand in front of the bloodred devil chair, plastering on a smile to hide my lack of enthusiasm. I don’t know how Jim does it. I feel ridiculous trying to fake joy. My face drops. A woman standing across from me on the side of the room suddenly whips her head in my direction. She claps wildly, her mouth turned up in the hardest dragon smile I’ve seen all night. Then, several people around her stare also, just like in math class, except this time they all nod their heads in my direction while their eyes glare disturbingly at me. One of them mouths something to me. I only catch the word “coming” and have no idea what she means. They clap harder before flinging their arms to the sky like Hypnotist Jerry. They each return their eyes to me, not blinking until everyone returns to their seats and the room fills with the quiet hum of anticipation again. Am I imagining all this? Surely, random people I don’t know would have no reason to stare at me. I think the pressure of being around so many non-Black people is getting to me.

An older white woman with sandy-brown hair stands to take the microphone after Jim leaves the stage. I can tell she has a lot to say by the way she hustles to the front of the room. She holds the microphone dramatically in silence while locking eyes with several people in the audience. A few people look away to avoid her searing gaze.

I look down at my shoes, which are old and worn out. I really need another pair, but I can’t afford it. I glance around at others’ well-manicured shoes. Everyone seems to have such nice things around here. I try to slide my feet under the chair so no one else notices.