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people were staring. “Now.”
    Alex, and every other black man in Alabama, had a sixth sense for discriminatory situations. He knew the exact moment to tuck tail and retreat.
    â€œWait. I have one more question for the Lancôme lady.” I turned toward her. “What exactly were you doing with that mirror? It looked a little high for a nose powder.”
    She did a quick two-step. “I was … uhh…”
    â€œYeah, that’s what I thought!” I said, voice rising. Alex looked on in astonishment, since I’d never raised my voice in public. Even now I felt perilously uncomfortable, but I needed to prove my race to my brother, which sounded ridiculous even to me. “You surprised to see a girl like me hanging out with a guy like this?” I tilted my head toward Alex.
    â€œToya, that’s really mean.” Alex wore the McRib-disappointed-dog gaze again.
    Lancôme lady’s eyes grew to double size. “Toya? You don’t look like a Toya. Is this man making you do this? Security!” she yelled.
    â€œAnd just what is that supposed to mean? No! He’s not making me do this! Why would you even ask such a thing? That’s incredibly offensive!”
    Alex grabbed my elbow and tugged, as two big security guys jogged toward the counter. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I mean … Toya?” she chuckled. “You know … and he’s, well.” Her eyes said it all, but not enough to convince Alex, who looked more confused than ever.
    â€œDo you mean because I’m white and he’s black ?” I channeled one of Mom’s screams.
    â€œToya!” Alex replied.
    â€œWell … yes,” she said gracelessly. Alex tilted his head toward the Lancôme lady. “You know, it’s not something you see every day ’round these parts.”
    I knew I could count on good old Gus Von March.
    â€œWhat do you mean, well, yes ?” Alex scrutinized Lancôme lady’s face for an answer, then he looked at me.
    â€œI told you, Alex,” I said, wiping the liquid foundation from my face. “I’m white.”
    That moment, the security guards reached us. “Is this man bothering you, ma’am?” Guard number one placed his hand firmly on Alex’s right shoulder, and guard number two placed his hand firmly on his left.
    â€œNot at all, Officers.” I smiled. “We were just leaving.”
    Done and done.

 
    A PLAN
    My tiff with the Lancôme lady drained every ounce of mental acuity from my brain. For the next four point something miles, I was zombified. Thankfully, Alex grabbed hold of the conversation and never let go.
    â€œToya, do you know what this means? This means God is back and in full effect. You might be one of his New Age disciples, like, the first black female to have a seat at the table. They’ll have to redo the Last Supper! But would you be painted as a white girl or as a black girl? We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” He scratched his head like he always did when making sense of the impossible. “How will we get you enrolled in school? Where will we say black Toya has gone off to? Of course, no one would notice, since we’re absent so much anyway. We can just say black Toya’s dropped out or something.” He stopped walking and I slammed into his back. “Toya!” He grabbed my shoulders and hugged me tight. “You’re white!” His laugh echoed through Edgewood.
    He devised numerous plans of assimilation; he said I could be a barely English-speaking exchange student. “Swedish! Dank-a you vwantta go to da movies after skewl? Swedish is like pig Latin, easy peasy coupled with your towhead. Perfect. What do you think?” He went on without a response. “We should watch Dad’s Trading Places DVD with Eddie Murphy and Jamie Lee Curtis. She did a pretty good Swedish accent on the train when the guy