Amy leaned against the green room door and watched as Zach helped Shawn and D’Andre finish attaching a fold-out triangle to one of the sheets of plywood her dad bought for the project. Clever. That would make a leg to hold the wall upright. And it explained why Dad had insisted on getting hinges. Apparently she was the only one who didn’t know how to make backdrops. “Looking good, guys.”

D’Andre flashed a smile. “Thanks, Miss Harris. Mr. W here knows his stuff.”

Zach shook his head. “Nope. It’s all Shawn; he’s making us both look good.”

“Where’d the others go?” Amy peered down the hall before checking her watch.

“They finished about five minutes ago, so I said they could get going. I know for a fact they both have algebra homework.”

D’Andre groaned. “Don’t remind me. You really givin’ us another test on Friday?”

“That’s the plan.” Zach pushed to his feet and dusted his hands on his slacks, leaving smears of sawdust on the dark fabric.

Shawn sat back on his heels and frowned at D’Andre. “What’s the big deal? Algebra’s not that bad. Mr. Wilson does a good job explaining it, too.”

“Thanks, Shawn.”

Amy’s heartbeat accelerated. Zach was good with the kids, really good. He treated them like adults, almost equals. Did he understand how much that meant to them? He had to, didn’t he? Did he have any clue how attractive it was to see a man who enjoyed working with kids? “You two better hurry if you need to get a late bus.”

“Come on, Shawn. Maybe you can explain why I’m supposed to care about inequalities.” D’Andre bumped fists with Zach. “Later, Mr. W.”

“How’d it go?” Amy bent and picked up the nails scattered around one edge of the floor, tossing them back into the box.

“Got a good start. I thought we’d end up brainstorming the set today, but Shawn already had an idea—a good one—drawn out and everything. Made my job a lot easier.” Zach grabbed the top of the plywood and lifted, pushing it against the other completed sections that leaned against the back wall.

“Can I see it?”

“Sure.” Zach pointed to the small table wedged in the far corner of the room before bending to collect the remaining tools and deposit them in a cardboard box.

Amy crossed the room and looked at the paper. The overall look would create a mural, of sorts, that highlighted the main visual features of each holiday in the colors associated with each, all blending from one into the next. If they could get it even half as pretty as the small design, it was going to be amazing. “Wow.”

“Right?” Zach came to stand next to her, his arm touching hers. “I had no idea Shawn had anything like this kind of talent. Honestly, I’m not sure I had much of an idea about Shawn at all. He was just the quiet kid in the back row, you know?”

Amy nodded, forcing herself to focus on his words and not the tingles running up her arm from his touch. “I haven’t had a chance to get to know him as well as some of the kids. He doesn’t do the after school program usually. So it’s only when I’m subbing that I might run into him.”

He nodded, shifting so he was facing her, not the table. “Amy...we need to talk.”

Her lungs constricted, cutting off airflow temporarily as her stomach plummeted into her shoes. She swallowed. “Okay?”

“What’s going on with us?” Zach tucked his hands in his pockets. “I thought things were good, that we were on the same page and then Saturday happened and...I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Amy twisted her fingers together. She’d spent the bulk of Sunday replaying Saturday night, trying to come up with an explanation. Mom had almost dragged the story out of her, but had given up. On one hand, that was good. Mom had no patience for people who spent all their time worrying about what others would think. On the other...Amy really needed her mom’s advice. “I just...it’s...do you even know what you’re getting into?”

Zach’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought I did. I thought I was getting into a relationship with one of the smartest and prettiest women I know, the only woman in a long time who is not only a valued and trusted friend, but who I’m attracted to in more than a passing way.”

Heat flooded her face, warring with the urge to scream. Did he really not get it? She frowned, studying his face. Not even the tiniest hint that he understood there was more to it than that. “And your family? What will they think?”

“That I’m lucky to have you. And that it’s about time I found someone. And they’ll probably wonder when we’re going to get married and have kids. What’s this about?”

Get married? Kids? Impossible. “Do they know about me?”

He shrugged. “A little. I don’t call my parents as much as I probably should, but we talk.”

“And you’ve told them I’m not white?”

“Seriously? That’s what this is about?” Zach shook his head, sputtering. “Of all the things...why would that matter? I don’t look at you and see a mixture of ethnicities that aren’t the same as my own. Why would I?”

“Because that’s the first major difference between the two of us.” Amy grabbed his arm, pushed up his sleeve, and held her own arm next to his. She took a deep breath and concentrated on lowering her voice. “Look at that. That’s what normal people see.”

“Not in my world it isn’t.” Zach stepped back. “And I’m really sorry for you if you live in a world where it is.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re white.”

He scoffed. “Right. The token white teacher at a primarily African-American school, where everyone looks at me and assumes I’m only here because I’ve taken it upon myself to do charity work in the inner city.”

“Isn’t that the case?”

He gave her a long, hard look. “No. No it isn’t. I work here because I didn’t want to be in debt up to my ears for the rest of my life with student loans, and since I’d planned to teach anyway, signing on for three years with Teach the City seemed like a reasonable idea.”

He wasn’t here because God called him to the inner city? “I...I don’t know what to do with that.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “When you figure it out, you know where I’ll be. Good night, Amy.”

Unable to speak, she watched him stride from the room.

“What brings you out tonight, bonita?” Amy’s dad folded his newspaper and tucked it under the steaming mug on the end table by his recliner.

Amy lifted a shoulder, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Just needed a friendly face, I guess.”

Her dad grinned and patted his lap. “Come over here and tell me what’s eating at you.”

“Dad.” She tried to fight the smile, but lost. “I’m not ten anymore.”

“Much to my chagrin. All right, if you won’t sit on my lap like you used to, will you at least let me in on the problem?”

Maybe Dad would understand better than Mom had. She laid it out as quickly and factually as she could, skipping over the toe curling kiss on Saturday that still made her lips tingle when she thought about it, and ending with their conversation in the green room that afternoon. “What am I supposed to do?”

Her father’s head shook from side to side. “Amy Marysa Harris. We raised you better than that.”

She hunched her shoulders, shrinking back into the couch. “I don’t...I didn’t...”

“Did we not raise you to see past the color of someone’s skin?”

Amy swallowed and gave a curt nod.

“Did we not raise you to expect others to do the same for you?”

She nodded again.

“So this man does exactly that, and you have the temerity to be annoyed with him because of it?” Dad’s voice was practically a bellow.

“It’s not like that, Dad.” She hated the tinge of whine that worked its way into her voice as tears burned her eyes.

“It isn’t? Tell me how it is, then. Explain to me the difference.”

She licked her lips, scrambling for the words to make it clear. The Caribbean cadence in his words showed her just how agitated he was. She had one chance, maybe, before he exploded.

Her mom poked her head out from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Why don’t the two of you come and sit? You can explain yourself while we eat.”

Amy winced. Her mother had heard. Of course she had. Any chance of leaving without a stern talking-to was gone. Why didn’t they understand that it was different today? Harder. Instead of a culture that saw, recognized, and okay, sure, discriminated, because of skin color, everyone today pretended they were color blind and expected you to just get over it. Like any discrimination you got was only in your head. And that had nothing to do with Zach. He didn’t consider her his black-slash-Hispanic-slash-whatever girlfriend. She was just his girlfriend. Or, she had been.

Zach was avoiding her. That was the only possible explanation. She’d haunted the faculty lounge during his usual free time. He never came. After school, he was either busy with tutoring, the stage set for the holiday program, or she saw him sneaking out of the building with his bag bulging at his side. She couldn’t exactly corner him in the hallway and demand he talk to her. And the phone...didn’t seem like the best solution. They needed to talk face-to-face. As much as she didn’t like it, she was going to have to take her mom’s advice and make a move.

Amy waited outside Zach’s classroom as his last class filed out, nodding to the students and consciously ignoring the occasional smirk. It wasn’t going to matter.

“Got a minute?” She stepped into the classroom.

Zach frowned and continued loading papers into his bag. “Just. I told Jackson I’d hang out with him at Season’s Bounty tonight. Thought I’d spend some time grading in between courses. What’s up?”

Tears pricked the back of her eyes. He hadn’t even planned to ask her out? Or left things open to the possibility that they might? She cleared her throat. “I was hoping we could talk about Saturday.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and sat. “Okay?”

He wasn’t going to give an inch, was he? She took a deep breath. She’d hurt him more than she realized. “I’m sorry. I...freaked out.”

“Okay. I get that. I just don’t understand why.” He folded his hands on top of his desk, his gaze locking with hers.

Heat crawled up her neck at the same time tingles began in her belly. How did he have two such strong-yet-disparate effects on her? “I’m not sure I can completely explain it.”

“Try.”

Amy closed her eyes. Hurt and mad. Great. “My family, my extended family, has a ton of mixed marriages...right alongside the unmixed ones. And those family members are always picking at the folks who, let’s say, color outside the lines. It’s gotten so bad that holidays and family gatherings are always strained, with some aunts and uncles not coming because of who else is going to be there. I grew up knowing I didn’t want to add fuel to that fire.”

Zach nodded.

“But then I met you, this great guy with a heart for kids and a passion for teaching and your skin color didn’t matter as much.”

“So what changed?”

Amy chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t know. I guess seeing those students, realizing that they were putting two and two together...what were they going to think? What would their parents or the school administration think?”

A furrow formed in Zach’s forehead. “Who cares?”

“I do. Did. I’m trying not to.” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t want to lose you over this, Zach.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

“You can’t make this a little easy on me?”

“You want to come to church with me on Sunday?”

She frowned. Was that an answer? It didn’t sound like one. A test? She’d gone to the same church with her parents her whole life. Sure, she’d branched out some, tried other places, but her church was home. Didn’t he go to one of the megachurches in the suburbs?

His bark of laughter held no mirth. “That’s what I thought. Never mind. I’ll see you next week. Goodbye, Amy.”

Zach grabbed his bag, slipped past her, and out the door. She listened as his footsteps receded down the hallway. What just happened?