Daddy smiled at me. "Don't worry," he said, as I slid into the front seat of the car. "Everyone's fine. I decided to leave work early today, so 1 called your mother and told her I'd bring you home. It would be silly for her to make the trip when I'm already here."

"Why'd you leave early?" I wanted to know. And just then a smell (well, not a smell; a wonderful chocolaty aroma) drifted to me. I turned around and saw a white bakery box on the backseat. "Hey, what's that?"

"You're certainly full of questions today," remarked Daddy. "Let's see. I left early because we have something to celebrate tonight, and the box in the backseat is part of the celebration."

"A celebration? Oh, goody!" I cried, reaching for the box.

"No peeking," said Daddy.

"But I want to see what's in there."

"The celebration is a surprise. You'll find out all about it after dinner."

I couldn't help guessing. "You got a promotion!" I exclaimed.

Daddy shook his head.

"You got a raise."

"Nope."

"We're moving back toNew Jersey ?"

I wasn't quite as excited by that idea. The

funny thing is, a few months ago, I would have jumped at the chance to leave Stoney-brook and return toOakley,New Jersey , the town in which I grew up. My family and I had been happy there. We are black, and our neighborhood, school, and even my ballet school in Oakley were all mixed up — black people and white people, living and working together. Plus, my relatives lived nearby. One of my cousins, Keisha, was my best friend. When Daddy's company offered him a better job inStamford , he jumped at the chance. But it meant we had to move. I did not want to leave Oakley. But I was not prepared for what would greet us in Stoneybrook — prejudice, that's what. We moved to a town with only a few black residents. I am the only black student in the entire sixth grade. People teased my family. People said nasty things to us. People ignored us.