In the dark I walked over to the kitchen and got the last can of Sprite from the fridge and opened it. I sipped it on the sofa and listened to the bubbling sound the liquid made inside the open can. White boys could play spades. There was a whole world I hadn't seen, and winning wasn't everything. When the last cool drop of lemon-lime refreshment slid down my throat I lay back on the sofa and touched the spot where my face was still bruised. I thought about whoever it was who had hit me the night before and a bunch of questions surfaced that I didn't want to deal with. I told myself I'd find the answers tomorrow and drifted off.