KENNY

Wow. So much for not getting flack. I seriously was minding my own business, standing at my locker, and a couple guys come up to me and start telling me how I don't belong at Eden Hall, etc., etc. I figured they were just talking about hockey until the names started flying. Started saying, "You Asians are all the same." Stuff like that. Told me they didn't have room at Eden Hall for trash like me. I don't really know when I took the first swing, but I know it was me. Two against one isn't exactly great odds, and I ended up with a split lip, a major bruise on my left cheek and detention for three days. Ouch. However, I think I won, so I guess it's all worth it.

What's bad is the rest of the team knows I got in a fight, they just don't know over what, and for some reason, I'm not anxious to tell them. When I walk into the locker room, I keep my head down, letting my hair obscure my face, because I don't want them asking about the bruises, or the split lip. My face looks like a damn mess, just because I couldn't keep my temper and ignore some bigots in the halls. I'm really mad, but at the same time, I feel kind of stupid. I mean, what's the point of getting so angry? It's not like I can change how they think.

"Hey Ken. Hear you got in a fight." Adam's sitting at his locker. I nod. I really don't want to look at him and see the expectant grin on his face. They're not going to get the answer they're expecting, if they keep pushing.

"That sucks. Over what?" Then again, Adam was always the perceptive one of the group.

"Race crap," I reply, figuring he won't know what to say next, since he obviously wouldn't have a clue as to what that's like.

"Hate to say it, but I'm not surprised." Whoa. Wasn't expecting that one. I glance over at him.

"Why?" I ask, for lack of anything better to say.

"I grew up with these kind of kids, Kenny. I know how they are." For some reason, it sounds to me like he's defending them.

"So are you one of them, then? Or are you one of the righteous ones who's just pretending?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and Adam looks like I just hit him. I'm just so angry, and so shaken up from that fight that I can't really keep control of my mouth. Swearing under my breath, I turn and head for the door. Vaguely, I hear Charlie calling after me, but I don't turn around. I can't practice right now.

LUIS

Damn. That fight obviously took a lot out of our resident Asian. After hearing his exchange with Adam in the locker room, I figure I can miss practice too, and abandon the locker room as well. I catch up with Ken outside the rink. He's just staring at the ice.

"Hey, man. You okay?"

"Why couldn't we have been White? You know? Why did we get screwed over?" The bitterness is almost palpable. I shrug.

"Aren't you proud of who you are?"

"Yeah, but you tell me…how easy is it to be proud when all it does is drag you down?" Oy. No answer.

"We gotta make choices, Luis. You know it as well as I do."

"What do you mean?"

"We can't be both. We either gotta be White, or Asian or Hispanic. Can't be both."

The more I think about it, the more I think Kenny's right. We can't be both. We have to choose. I have to choose between my family and my friends, Kenny's has to choose between friends and other friends.

I call my mom that night. She's always bugging me about keeping in touch, and I always feel guilty, because she gave up so much just so I could have a better life than she did when she was my age.

"Hi Mama," I say when she picks up.

"¡Ayy, Luis!" She yells at whoever's in the background that I'm on the phone, and immediately, there's a big commotion on the other end. My little cousins must be over, so they're all yelling hello, and of course my father.

"¿Cómo están?" I ask.

"Bién, ¿y tú? Eres…" She starts off on a rant about how I should come home on vacations because she can't stand to think what so much time away from Cuban culture is doing to me. I assure her I'm okay, but she has a point.

Ah, damn Kenny for saying that! We gotta make choices. Damn him! How am I supposed to choose between two things I can't live without?

"¿Qué tienes, m'ijo?" she asks. I realize I just zoned out on her.

"Nothing, mama. Pensando," I reply. We talk for a long time, and I talk to my father for awhile. He sounds weary, and I'll bet it's because he's working three jobs. But he sounds healthy, so I can't be too worried. One of my older cousins, Cira, comes on and asks me if there are any Latinas up my way.

"No way," I tell her, "Nadie." She says she figured as much and tells me to come back as soon as possible because there's a lot of pretty Latinas down in Miami.

KENNY

I call my best friend up the night after the fight. She's an adopted Korean who lives in San Francisco, and she and I used to talk about race all the time. I always felt more at ease around her than anyone else I knew, because she was natural. She was real. She was who she was and she didn't change for anyone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Soonie, it's Ken."

"Hey Ken, how's it going?" She sounds really happy to hear from me, which makes me feel better.

"Not much. I got in a fight today." I figure there's no sense in beating around the bush on this one. Soonie knows me like the back of her hand and even over the phone, she can tell if something's bothering me.

"Let me guess. Some white boys got up in your face about Eden Hall being too good for you," she said without missing a beat.

"Right you are," I reply, "And I got a couple bruises and a split lip to show for it."

"Dang, you actually fought them?" She sounds a little in awe.

"Yup."

"First swing?"

"Me."

"Wow. Congrats." I laugh. Soonie is a tomboy, and she's been in a lot of fights over the years that had to do with race. Sometimes I think she sticks her nose in places it's not needed, like when the Hispanics and the Whites start stirring up trouble, but everyone knows she's a crazy good fighter, and since she always sides with the Hispanics over Whites, everyone knows who's going to win.

"So how's good old San Francisco?" I ask.

"Had a Pump tournament a few days ago. Got to the last round before Jin knocked me out on Winter," she answers.

"Combo battle?" I ask.

"No, just perfects. I had 178, Jin got 179."

"Dang." We go on with small talk, and I am glad to hear news about people I remember from my time in San Francisco. Jin, Shoua, Kiyoshi, Chul, Jae, Kyung and so many more. Soonie's best friends with all of them. And with me. I'm grateful she hasn't forgotten about me.

"So, white-bread Minnesota isn't treating you so well," she says. Knew we were going to come around to this sooner or later.

"Yeah. I think me, Luis and Russ are the only non-whites in the whole school."

"Wouldn't surprise me." Her words rekindled the guilt I'd been feeling for snapping at Adam, and I figured now was as good a time as any to bring that up. Soonie would understand.

"The other thing is, I all of a sudden feel really uncomfortable around my teammates. Like today, Adam was talking to me about race and I just blew up at him," I explain. Short pause.

"No answers, Ken. I'm the same way. It's something I just live with." Live with it. Soonie's a tough kid and she's learned to live with a lot. I just don't know if I'm tough enough.

"Look, Ken. I'm really glad you called, but Javier and Raul just showed up at my door and are threatening to drag me out of the house if I don't come with them, so I gotta go. Call me again if you want to talk more."

"Alright. Take care, Soon-yung," I say, using her full Korean name. She hesitates for a second.

"You too, Ken. Stay proud."

SPANISH glossary:

¿Cómo están?: How are you guys?

Bien, ¿y tú? Eres…: Good, and you? You are…

¿Qué tienes, m'ijo?: What's wrong, son?

Pensando: Thinking.