"And in the process, you're doing little to shake the notion that you're a part of Empire Eighty-Eight," Max smiled, "It's amusing to hear you try and justify your perspective, but you're ignoring the elephant in the room. Cut the B.S. and tell me you don't feel something different when you look at a black face, compared to when you look at a white one."
Kayden didn't have an answer to that. It was his fault, really. The high school baseball player she'd had a crush on when she'd been in middle school had wound up being the same person that first approached her when she started going out in costume. Blinded by his good looks and his way with words, she'd been swayed, convinced of his way of thinking. She'd tried to change her outlook since the divorce, but she had seen a great deal in her ten years as a member of his team. It was impossible to look at the city now and ignore the fact that too much of what made it an uglier place to live and raise a child in could be traced back to the same kinds of people. Sure, the whites had criminals too, but at least they were fucking civilized about it.