"Eduardo's hand was white—creamy white with blue, branch-like veins. I stared at my own hand. It was brown—coffee-with-cream brown, and had dark, knobby knuckles. A thought whispered and I clenched my teeth. I. Was. Brown!
If I had been white, I wouldn't have to be sold. If I had been white, the Capitan wouldn't have thrown me out. But I wasn't. It was visible and plain. I wore it on my skin—the color brown.
I hated my color."
What do you guys think?