Free Let It Shine by Alyssa Cole

left hook. But Jack had been wrong when he said throwing punches was Ivan’s favorite thing; there was something redemptive about taking a punch that he couldn’t explain, and to be able to do so for the greater good…
    He was shadowboxing in his room when he heard the door open and his father return. His fists dropped to his sides as he heard his father’s shuffling steps. Each one sounded like it only occurred through some extraordinary act of willpower, and through his anger Ivan reminded himself that he wasn’t the only one who carried an invisible burden.
    He walked down into the kitchen and saw his father standing in front of the sink, where water ran into an overflowing cup as he stared through the window. Mr. Friedman turned his head, as if he hadn’t noticed his son walk into the room. “Ivan.” He paused, his features hardening from soft and sad to defensive.
    “What happened earlier today was a shandeh un a charpeh ,” Ivan said. The Yiddish wasn’t usually the first thing his brain went to, but he didn’t know the words in English that could convey his disappointment in his father.
    “Yes,” his father said. He put the glass down without drinking it. “It was shameful and disgraceful to be engaging in relations with that girl out in the open like a man with no sense of morality.”
    “Oh please, Pop,” Ivan said. “If it had been Libby Weinberger out there with me, you wouldn’t have been so quick to judge.”
    “First the boxing, now taking up with these rabble-rousers. You’re not a schvartze—why don’t you let these people fight their own battles? Do you think they would’ve help us if the Nazis had made it to these shores?” Mr. Friedman rubbed at his brow. “When you were a boy you said that all you wanted to do was become a scholar, but then everything changed. Sometimes I wish we had never come to this place. Maybe it’s being here that makes you such a disobedient son.”
    Ivan wished his father’s words didn’t have the ability to cut through him like a sharpened stone. He wanted to turn away from the anger and confusion he saw in his father’s eyes, but he was a man now and would face this as a man would.
    “You want a scholar? Chew on this: whether a person is gentile or Jew, they’re entitled to Kavod HaBriyot —human dignity. Millions of people are being denied their dignity right now, and if I can do something to help change that, I will.”
    “What do you want? That I should be happy that you’ll risk your life for the same people who come into my shop and call me a cheap Jew to my face?”
    “Yes!” Ivan said. “People shouldn’t have to be perfect to be seen as worthy of empathy.”
    His father stared at him, then shook his head. “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand anything anymore. I’m going to go talk to Rabbi Hirschman.”
    “Good. Make sure you ask him what he thinks of you being a bigot.”
    His father flinched and Ivan knew he had gone too far.
    “Pop—”
    The door slammed shut.
    Ivan dragged himself up to his room, but he felt even more like a stranger in his own home than usual. He didn’t know what had just happened between him and his father, but he felt like he’d just gone ten rounds only to be awarded a draw. He felt alone, and he knew there was only one way he wouldn’t.
    He picked up the phone beside his bed and dialed. When Sofie’s voice came through, he smiled, in spite of everything.
    “Hey. It’s me. Did David and Henrietta get home okay?” he asked.
    “Yes, they did. One of their friends was driving by and pulled them into the car.” Her voice was stiff, and for a moment he thought she was angry with him. That thought hurt him far more than it should have, but when she remained on the line instead of hanging up, he realized she wasn’t alone.
    “Did things go okay with your father?” he asked.
    “No.” That was all she would give him. Her polite distance was making him miss her more than if he hadn’t