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When she was comfortable, Danielle wasn’t reserved at all. She could be loud, outgoing, and daring. She had a sarcastic wit and was immensely creative and generous. She donated her own money to charities, volunteered at animal shelters, and regularly saved abandoned animals. She spent her free time learning about the environment and foreign cultures. Yes, Danielle had high standards that set her apart from many of her peers. But she held herself to those standards too.

JOY, CALIFORNIA | THE NEW GIRL

In biology, Joy had noticed an odd, silent junior who sat against the wall and usually drew pictures in class. She was so white Joy could practically see right through her.

Then one day the biology teacher chatted with Joy just before class. “Hey, Joy!” he said. “You know, you don’t have to be so quiet in class. Look over there; that’s Cleo. She’s a nice girl to talk to.”

Joy glanced at Cleo, who was hunched beneath her backpack as if the weight of the world were strapped to her shoulders.

When Cleo saw Joy, her face changed. Joy noticed that her eyes shone bright blue. Cleo gave a bashful wave.

“Okay, class,” the teacher announced, pointing to a stack of papers on his desk. “We’re going to be doing an experiment on cohesion and adhesion today. Find partners!”

Joy looked at Cleo. “Hey, Cleo, I’m Joy. Do you want to be my partner?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Joy and Cleo laughed as they conducted the experiment, which was more silly than difficult. They talked about the class and, eventually, themselves. Cleo was artistic, could sing, and enjoyed discussing philosophy, all of which Joy felt they had in common. Joy was surprised to find that Cleo was hilarious. She learned that Cleo was quiet in class because she was shy and focused on learning the material.

Before long, Cleo joined Joy for lunch in the biology classroom every day. Over the next few weeks, Joy grew almost as close to Cleo as she was to Anisha.

But friends were still few and far between. Too many classmates displayed a level of prejudice that astounded Joy. In between classes, Joy and Xavier, a blond, bespectacled boy in her English class, walked down an outdoor hallway. “I want to be a teacher,” Xavier said. “I think it would be cool.”

They passed by the English department. “If I were a teacher, I’d be an English teacher,” Joy said. “I love English. Or a drama teacher.”

“What? I’ve never heard of a black person being an English teacher before,” Xavier said.

Joy made herself pause before responding. She looked down at the water pooling on the sidewalk. She breathed in the air, crisp from fresh rain. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked. “The last time I checked, I was an articulate person and could present myself well.”

“All I’m saying is that it would be like a Mexican working with computers,” he said, laughing. “I’m not trying to sound racist. I’m just saying.”

Joy’s eyes bulged. “Wow, you’re not sounding racist at all,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “What a way to show your ignorance! I’ve had impeccable black English teachers, even better than the one we currently have.”

As they continued to walk in silence, a look of recognition crossed Xavier’s face, as if he had just realized what he had said and to whom. “Don’t get upset,” he pleaded.

“I’m not getting upset,” she said calmly. “I’m just telling you: You need to learn what and what not to say. I’m a diplomatic person. I’m not looking for conflict.” As the bell rang, she squeezed in, “Just watch out; some people would punch your lights out.”

Joy had to deal with racism every day at school. Some Asian students wouldn’t even speak to her when they were assigned to work with her on group projects. In PE, Mexican students referred to her as “black puta” and “black bitch.” During the class’s salsa unit, the boys stood in a stationary line while the girls’ line rotated in front of them so that each person danced with a partner for a few minutes, then moved on to the next. Joy was the best dancer in the class, but the Mexican boys