“He’s a good Mexican,” Jeremy’s father said once to his wife, knowing well that Andy wasn’t Mexican; in fact, he’d said it in defense of Andy, who Jeremy’s mother felt had been spending too much time with their son. The demographics of the town and the surrounding towns had been shifting in recent years, and they’d both been secretly disappointed that their son had started a new school and had somehow aligned himself with one of the few non-white kids. “Could be worse,” he said to his wife. The parameters of worse were clear even when unspoken.
Wow so racist
