The Reformatory

by Tananarive Due

Robert Stephens held his breath and counted to three, hoping to see Mama.

she felt an unlived version of her life sailing away, out of grasp. She’d never felt so trapped,

What was the point of white skin if you couldn’t do whatever you put your mind to?

Man do evil ev’ry day and call it doin’ their job.

This isn’t everything, he heard Mama’s voice say inside his ear. Mama’s here. There’s more ahead for you than this. This is only a moment.

Gloria didn’t understand how Miss Channing couldn’t see: it didn’t matter if a judge accepted her word—she could still talk to a reporter at the Gracetown Herald. She could mention it every time she ran into other white ladies in town, at the market, at the diner, at church, at the picture show. She could write it on a sign and carry it from one end of Main Street to the other. Someone would listen to a white woman, surely. Wouldn’t that stop some of the bar talk if white men’s wives took Papa’s side?

Robert blinked away tears because he couldn’t turn back time and fix something so simple,

Mama used to say Life isn’t fair when he cried over not getting his way, but he hadn’t known then that unfairness was so big, covering the world.

and too far to get a good luck at the truck.

Is that supposes to be look?