"Alright class, tomorrow on Friday, it is Bring Your Dad To School Day! I am so excited to see what your fathers do for their jobs, and can't wait for their presentations!" Mx. Renma clasps their hands together in excitement. The students nod and start to pack their bags. The bright June sun shone into the classroom. Even though it was three in the afternoon, it still looks like midday; it also doesn't help that the AC in the classroom doesn't work, making all the third graders sticky and irritable.

Miracle tugs on his powder blue uniform sleeve. It's drenched in sweat and was already starting to feel tight on his arm.Didn't mom get me this four weeks ago in two sizes larger?He thinks to himself. Sitting in the back of the class, he usually ends up lost in his thoughts. His imagination was always going in many directions; he didn't see the need to socialize with the other students. It feels like they speak two completely different languages. They never mean what they say, and he can never figure out what they mean. It's at this moment he remembers a scene from a movie. He finally understands and can't help but laugh at it as it plays in his head. This, unfortunately, catches the attention of another student.

"Hey, Miracle, I bet your dad is really cool." Kyle pops his gum before turning back to look at the tall boy. "I really bet he is cool." He tries to contain his laughter, smile seemingly genuine. Miracle, the poor boy, can't even hear the tone, only the words. Softly, he smiled at Kyle.Wow, he's being nice today,he thinks to himself.

"Well, actually I don't know my dad. My mom doesn't really talk about him too much," he explains while still pulling at his sleeve. Kyle leans over onto Miracle's desk and smirks.

"Is it because you're black that you don't know your dad, or is your mom just ugly?" He tilts his head before chuckling and turning back around. A string wraps itself around Miracle's heart and becomes a tourniquet. His fingers feel numb and start to shake. He's fallen for it again, the poor thing, he's fallen for it again. His eyes start to cloud, and he puts his head down.He's fallen for it again, the poor thing, he's fallen for it again. His eyes start to cloud, and he puts his head down. "At least I don't turn into a lobster if I step out in the sun," Miracle mutters.

"Teacher Renma! Miracle is making fun of my skin! He said 'at least I don't turn into a lobster if I step out in the sun!' He is so mean! All I did was ask about his dad," Kyle calls out. Mx.Renma looks over, slightly annoyed, "Mr. Fisher, we do not tattletale. I know your shtick by now. I've had you in my class the whole year." They walk back to their desk. The afternoon announcements boom through the intercom, echoing in the quiet classroom.

Miracle stuffs his homework into his bag, not caring if it crinkles and bunches up. He shoves his empty lunchbox in, crushing the paper more. The words "bus riders are now dismissed" are like the starting shot at a racetrack. Getting out of his seat, dodging Susie as she stands up, hopping over Daniel's backpack, and he makes it! Out the door, number one, and the crowd goes wild!—well, in his head at least. The hallways are a blur. Dodging teachers and students, he's so quiet that he goes unnoticed until someone feels the wind he creates.

The jello-like heat was relieving to him, unlike the glassy cold all the other students love. "613, 613, 613," he mutters to himself before finally stopping at the labeled bus. Rushing inside, he takes his favorite seat, the loner singlet in the back with the fifth graders who don't care for his existence. The other students start to pile in, filling the bus with more heat and noise. He held his ears as they were starting to hurt, making himself small and unnoticeable. The faux leather seat sticks to the back of his thighs, and it feels as though his leg hairs are being waxed right out of the follicle. His internal feelings turn from bubbling excitement at the thought of seeing mom to scratchy and clawing anxiety. The engine soon roars to life, and the bus starts to vibrate, making his skin feel like it's shaking off of his bones. The kids get louder, and the bus starts to move. Everything feels so dull but eye-bleedingly colorful at the same time.

The Esperanza residence was on the outskirts of the school district. Other students also lived outside the district, but, by law, they needed to go to school. Miracle lives the furthest, so he had to watch everyone else get dropped off, group by group. He peers out the window, waiting for his stop. It's so quiet. Is Aniyah even on the bus?His ears still rung, his head pounding like a drum, and his skin still on fire. The red picket fence made of metal is so unique, it makes an amazing marker. Three houses away from home is all Miracle needs to know. The bus slowed to a stop, and as the wheels screeched, he winced. Slowly he stands up, and sees a short head of twists lift up from seat one and step off. He quickly follows. Aniyah is fast with her tiny legs. Even in pain, he did promise Aniyah's aunt to walk her home every day whenever he could; furthermore, he cares for the first-grader because she is different—always carrying her blue bear and headphones that never left her ears. He catches up with her, stepping farther forward so she could see him and wouldn't be scared by his touch on the shoulder. She keeps her eyes at his feet and tugs her lip to the side. "Good to see you too," Miracle smiles.

It's a short trip on the dirt road, but Miracle enjoyed the silence between them. He helps her up to her porch and knocks on the door. An elderly woman opens it. The only thing showing her age was her gray hair, because she barely had a wrinkle on her face due to her beautiful genetics. "Hey baby, how was school?" Aniyah nods and walks past her into the house. The woman chuckled and looked back at Miracle. "Boy, seems like e'ry time I see ya you're a few inches talla. What cha mama be feeding you? Tell her to give a sista the recipe." They share a laugh. "Nah, I'm playin, but thank you for bringin' Aniyah home. Tell ya mama I said hi!" He nods and walks away. "Tell her she raised a good one!" She called out, and Miracle waves in acknowledgment.

Once he opens the door, he is pounced on by an excited Oliver and Lake. Oliver seemed old for his age at nine, but as for Lake, it's nothing—well, he's a chihuahua, and they are immortal. Miracle closes the door behind him, smiling. Precious barks from her loveseat, and he waves at her too. She doesn't like to move any more, due to her age since she's ten now; in fact, most of the dogs still alive are old. Many have memories of Miracle as a baby and him growing up. That's one thing he admired about his mother: her big heart had filled the home with dogs in need or of old age. No dog was bad to her. Each got spoiled rotten until their day came to cross the rainbow bridge. When that happened, he helped her dig their graves in a small plot on the land, and each got a ceremony filled with love poured into their death. "Even the meanest and cruelest of dogs need a chance and love"she always said.

"¿Ese mi príncipe?" A tender voice calls from the dining room. It's his mother. He smiles and drops his bag, rushing to the room and almost crashing into a ladder propped against the wall. She looks over, braids tied up, and smiles with some paint on her scar. He steps closer and wipes it off, looking at the newspaper he was stepping on, and all the paint around the room. "Mamá, what are you doing?"

Mireya looks around the room too, and then at her paint-covered hands. "Well, my Miracle, I didn't like how boring these khaki walls were, so I decided to paint over it and create a magical cityscape with whales and other fish swimming in the sky," she explains, pointing to the taped and penciled figures. She smiles lovingly at her finest work of art, admiring his artistry. It had taken her nine painful months to produce. "How was school, mi amor?"

The boy's expression falls, and he heaves. "Mamá, it wasn't good. Kyle made fun of me for not having a dad, and this Friday is Bring Your Dad To School Day. What am I going to do? Everyone will laugh at me. I mean, he already said it makes sense that I don't have a dad because I'm black or because he thinks you are ugly." He sniffles and Mireya drops her brush to cup her son's face. He starts to wail. "Why is he so mean to me? What did I do? He doesn't do this to anyone else." He buries his face into her shoulder and she softly shushes him and rubs his back.

"Honey, some people like Kyle don't like us people with culture." Her fingers caress her scar. "They want to make us feel lesser than them when we are one in the same." Miracle pulls away and looks at her.

"But why? I don't get it." His lip convulses hard enough for his teeth to chatter. Mireya sighs. She wished she could teach him this instead of him experiencing it.

"Sometimes, hijo, people think their race is better than others—they even made fake scientific theories and laws to keep us down. They won't teach you this in school—I will have to take on that responsibility, but what you need to know is this: racist people still exist. They teach their children to be racist, and then they continue their racist ideals." She caresses his cheek and her thumb brushes against the cleft lip. "How about I step in for Friday? Then, right after that, we can go to the lake and celebrate his birthday." Miracle's eyes light up.

"It's papá's birthday tomorrow?" Mireya smiles at his excitement.

"Every June 13th, hijo." She lets go of him and bends over, grabbing a brush. She hands it to him. "Add your special touch honey. I'll start dinner." He stares at the wall. The top half is filled with vibrant indigos, sky blues, and stars with white blobs that are purposefully left unpainted. He looks at the dry brush then glances around for a color he wants, peeping into each paint can until he finds it, a very bright emerald. He grabs the bucket with ease and steps up to the wall. Mireya hasn't painted any of the buildings yet, so they are still white blocks. From the top of a blank box, he starts to sweep his brush back and forth until it gets to the shape he wants. Dipping the brush into a pineapple yellow, he starts back up again, adding white, black, and red to the mix before he's done. He stands back to admire his work.

Once the rice is put on to boil, Mireya comes back and softly smiles. "Can't tell if that's a dinosaur or an angry flower."

Miracle smiles and starts to point. "Ma, it's a dinosaur with-like a Dilophosaurus frill but instead of skin, it's sunflower petals. And the spikes on his back are also sunflower petals, and he has a red tongue and really bright teeth." He bounces on his feet as Mireya looks closer. "Very creative; I love it. I can add a bit more detail to fit into the rest of the painting when I start up again, but it's perfect. Gracias, mi bebé," she ruffles his hair.