Lincoln returned home at half past two that afternoon. He spent several hours at the park, first walking around and enjoying the boundless freedom, then dozing in the shade of an old oak tree. Though his rest was fitful, he dreamed. Of Clyde. Of Ronnie Ann. Of Bobby and Charlie and the black kids who picked on him in jail. He woke up angry, and rode around town to work off some of the energy.

The house was quiet. The van was gone from the driveway. He assumed that his family must have gone somewhere. He checked his phone several times, but saw no texts.

They couldn't even bother to tell me, he thought angrily. Upstairs, he closed his door, gave Hitler a salute, then passed the rest of the afternoon reading, first from Mein Kampf, then from an Ace Savvy comic. He forgot how much he liked these.

At one point, someone knocked on the door. "Yeah!"

It opened, and Lori stuck her head in. "Hey, Lincoln," she said nervously, "uh, I hate to ask you this, I really do, but can you cool it on the Nazi stuff tonight? Bobby and Ronnie Ann are coming over for dinner tonight."

Lincoln's shoulders sagged. He started to say that he shouldn't have to hide his white pride, but nodded instead. "Yeah. Okay."

"Thanks," she smiled, and shut the door.

Great. Bobby and Ronnie Ann were coming to dinner. Perfect. He took a deep breath and tried to continue reading, but he couldn't focus.

He told himself that he didn't want them over because they were Mexican, but he knew that that wasn't the truth. He was afraid. He was afraid because he liked them. Bobby had always been good to him, and Ronnie Ann was cool.

You can hate all the nameless, faceless Mexicans you want, but you can't hate them.

Alright. So what if he did like them? You can like a member of a group without liking the group as a whole. Hell, even Hitler had a pet Jew, a Jew who got special privileges, a Jew no one could touch. This just went to show the boundless, compassionate nature of the white man. It's not like he wanted them dead or anything. He just wanted what was best for his race, and his people. Was that really so horrible? Blacks wanted for blacks, Hispanics wanted for his Hispanics. But whites wanting for whites was racist and unacceptable.

His concentration totally blown, Lincoln threw down the comic, got up, and did twenty sit-ups, trying to purge the racing thoughts from his mind. When he was done, he did a dozen push-ups. After that, he left the room and paced the empty hall. On his fifth pass, he admitted something to himself: He was excited to see Ronnie Ann again. He'd missed her. And even Bobby. He felt a twinge of guilt, but so what? He was human.

At six, just after he'd gotten settled with another comic, Lucy came in. "Dinner's ready," she said.

"Alright," Lincoln said. He got up and followed her downstairs.

He reached the dining room table just as Lori, Bobby, and Ronnie Ann entered from the living room. Bobby saw him first. "Hey, little bro! You're back!"

He lifted his hand for a high five, and Lincoln returned it. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Alright, man. It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too."

"Hey, loser," Ronnie Ann said and punched his arm. "You feeling better?"

"Yeah," Lincoln said, rubbing his arm (she hit like a fucking dump truck), "I'm just...getting used to it all again."

The others filtered in, and dad put the food on the table. Bobby got the honor of saying grace, and Lincoln figured they'd never let him say it again. Which made him smile.

When Bobby was done, they dug in, Lincoln focusing on the plate before him.

"So how was it?" Ronnie Ann asked.

Lincoln looked up and then back down. "How was what?"

"Jail."

"It was...it was rough."

"You totally owned it though, right, bro?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah," Lincoln said, "I guess." He remembered the black kids beating him up and stealing his things, he remembered the Mexican kids tripping him in the cafeteria, he remembered the guards and their cold, hard gazes. He remembered feeling out of place, like a man trapped on an alien planet. Alone. Cold. Desperate.

"What was the worst part?" Ronnie Ann asked.

Without thinking, Lincoln said, "Being away from my family." He paused, then figured he'd gone this far, so he might as well go the rest of the way. "It was lonely. And scary. And the other kids there were really rough."

"Well, you're home now, and that' all that matters," mom said.

"And we love you very much," dad added.

Lincoln sighed. He was thoroughly depressed now. He forced the rest of his dinner down his throat then asked to be excused.

Done, he went out back and sat on the porch steps. The sky was a fiery shade of purple-tinged orange. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.

"Hey."

He jerked. Ronnie Ann sat next to him, a pained expression on her face. "I'm sorry I upset you back there."

"You didn't upset me," Lincoln said.

"Yes I did. I shouldn't have asked you about it."

Lincoln shrugged.

"Everyone really missed you," she said. "I missed you."

"My family got along just fine without me."

"No they didn't. They were all messed up. Lori cried every day and no one was themselves."

Lincoln looked at her. She was gazing into the gathering twilight. "I don't know what it was like for you in there, but I think it really hurt you. You're a kind, sensitive person."

For a long time neither of them spoke. Finally, Lincoln said, "I was so scared. I was alone. My family was gone and I couldn't see them, and everyone there was so cruel. If it wasn't for my friend Charlie, I don't know if I could have made it."

"But you did make it, and you're back home now. I know you're...different now. I can feel it. You're harder. But you don't have to be. You're not in jail anymore. You have a family that loves you, friends that care about you, and everything from here on out will be okay."

He smiled at her. It was sappy and stupid, but it made him feel better.

She put her arm around his shoulders, and he put his arm around hers. "So, you wanna ride bikes or something tomorrow?" she asked.