"Black skin and dirty clothes. Look at this. You make me sick."
Cornelius Braddock pointed at Daphne Wallace. Two hundred donors turned. He grabbed her arm, dragged her on stage."A Black orphan who thinks she can waltz." He laughed. "Delusional."The room laughed."Dance, damn it." He shoved her toward the floor. "Do it right, I'll adopt you."Her fingers white-knuckled the plastic bag holding a pair of beaten-up silver shoes."I don't need you to adopt me." Barely a whisper."What did you say to me?""I said I just need a dance floor.""You ungrateful little—"