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José’s hostility didn’t surprise me. I used his charge as an opening.

“I’m no Nazi,” I replied. “I’m a Jew. The only reason I’m in this country is because Hitler tried to kill my people in Europe. And I’m not here to mess with your writing. I’m here to help you say whatever you want to say.”

José pulled his feet off the table and let them land with a thud. “You tryna say you down and all that, tryna come off like you ’bout it? First off, I don’t need no editor. At Heart of the Earth Survival School, I’m the editor of the school paper. And I don’t need no thought police stepping on my First Amendment rights.”

The program director glanced at the clock. “It’s time to get working on your stories. Each of you will take a turn working with Jon. Who’s ready to go first?”

José stood, his bravado bolder than his lanky frame would suggest. “I’ll go. Ain’t no one gonna fuck with my shit.” He breathed up at my chin, then swaggered into the conference room with a cherry iBook under his arm.

José set the computer on the mahogany table and opened the lid. “You can’t say nothing ’bout this. You gotsta be down with the hip-hop game before you can say word one.”