A/N: Hello again! I bring you more Book of Mormon fanfiction, this time combining two of my favourite things in the whole entire world: Cunnilungi (Cunningham/Nabulungi for the uninitiated) and historical fiction! So, I present to you an AU, as suggested by my very good friend Lena (who wrote Contention 1 is Inherency, a fantastic policy debate AU for Book of Mormon,) which takes place before the legalization of interracial marriage in Utah.

Enjoy, and please, review!


"I think I have read enough to give you an idea of what the Negro is after. He is not just seeking the opportunity of sitting down in a cafe where white people eat. He isn't just trying to ride on the same streetcar or the same Pullman car with white people. It isn't that he just desires to go to the same theater as the white people. From this, and other interviews I have read, it appears that the Negro seeks absorption with the white race. He will not be satisfied until he achieves it by intermarriage. That is his objective and we must face it. We must not allow our feelings to carry us away, nor must we feel so sorry for Negroes that we will open our arms and embrace them with everything we have."

– Elder Mark E. Peterson, Race Problems – As They Affect the Church, 1954


1959

Arnold Cunningham's family has a nice car. He's not sure what kind it is – he's never really cared much for cars – but he knows that he likes driving in it. Maybe he drives badly, and maybe he has no sense of direction, but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy stop-starting his way through town.

Even if that does mean he finds himself in the less-than-familiar part of the place he calls home, and feels distinctly less at home just being there. Stopping the car, he glances about and tries to get his bearings. Okay. Not a familiar part of town. He can handle that. Maybe. Probably. Mostly, if there weren't so many people staring at him.

Colored people. Oh, dear. He's far more out of his element than he first thought. He's sweating, now, and there's going to be stains under his arms, and this is a brand new shirt, and he wonders what Superman would do in such a situation—remembers how Superman isn't really a white man, just appears as one—realizes if Superman is sort of colored, then he shouldn't be afraid, because if he's nice, why shouldn't colored people be the same way?

So he carefully opens the door to the car, holding his breath as if he's taking the first steps onto a new planet (he pretends he is, because that's just a heck of a lot more fun,) and steps onto the soil outside his familiar.

Not much different from his backyard, now that he thinks about it—the grass is as green, as tall, as well-kept as his own lawn is (and he should know, considering he's the one tasked with mowing it.) He pads around a bit, just to make sure that the ground feels the same. When it does, he looks back up with a wide grin.

A wide grin that is quickly wiped away when he realizes there are still people watching him—probably more people than before. His hands are already wringing themselves silly as he tries to figure out whether or not he should ask for directions back home, he tries to think of steps to take, but his mind just jumbles itself up. He spots a store nearby, though—a good first stop, he decides, on his way back home. Cautious and cautiously optimistic, Arnold heads towards it and tries to keep himself from staring too much.

"Uhnh…h-hello…? I'm just, uhmn, a-a bit lost…!" His voice, though normal for him, reverberates through the little shop and sounds much louder than he's used to. His head swivels around, coke-bottle glasses threatening to whip off his face and land on the floor, as he tries to find a clerk or at least a person to talk to, to ask for a little bit of help.

His gaze quickly falls on the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, sweeping the floor and, he realizes, watching him from beneath thick eyelashes. Flushing red like a late-harvested tomato, he tries to figure out if he's said anything else to her, or if he's even still alive—she's gorgeous, dark brown hair swept back into a bun, only the slightest wave to it left over from relaxing it, the slightest smile on her full lips as she goes about what is, he assumes, her job.

Her job. He should ask her. Of course, that would require actually gaining the capacity to talk, which Arnold is quite sure he's lost ever since he caught sight of her. It is only the slightest thought – colored girl, Arnold, colored girl – that gets him moving again, and he stumbles up to her, eyes wide behind thick lenses.

"Uh—uh, ahnh, I-I'm—car—l-lost and, uh—" Stumbling over his words, he balls up the bottom of his shirt, untucking it from his pants without thinking. His eyes drift down her body before he reminds himself colored girl, Arnold, colored girl, pure thoughts, colored girl, and by that point he's practically having a fit, just trying to ask her for directions back home.

Brow furrowed with worry, she pauses in her sweeping and looks up at him. "Um…are you…okay, Mister?"

Her voice is melodic, sweet and pure to Arnold's ears, and he just lets loose an awkward bark of a laugh as he finally wobbles in place in front of her. Startled, she looks about, as if she's looking for someone, anyone else.

"Uh. Is there…someone with you, Mister?" Sucking in her lower lip – he catches sight of the action and stares unabashedly at her, just barely keeping himself from reaching out to touch her – she takes a few steps back. "I'm…gonna go get my father, okay? You just—just stay here, Mister."

He nods a few times, watches her go, and silently curses himself when she's gone. He acted like a moron, a state-certified moron, and now she's scared and he's embarrassed, all because he just wanted to talk to her, to maybe learn her name, to maybe someday touch her mouth—

Colored girl, Arnold, pure thoughts anyway, but colored girl!

By the time she returns, her father in tow, he's already scurrying out the door towards his car once again. Colored girl. She was amazing, a beauty he hadn't seen amongst any of the girls he used to go to class with. Colored. He wants to hold her close, maybe kiss her a little, maybe just talk. Colored!

Instead, he just goes home, this time carefully memorizing the way back—that way, he can know the way to her once more.