Piano-prodigy Isabella, eleven, whose black father and white mother struggle to share custody, never feels whole, especially as racial tensions affect her school, her parents both become engaged, and she and her stepbrother are stopped by police.

"You're so exotic!!" "You look so unusual." "But what are you really?" Eleven-year-old Isabella - whose father is black and mother is white - is used to these kinds of comments, but it doesn't mean she likes them. And now that her parents are divorced (and getting along WORSE than ever), Isabella feels like a push-me-pull-me toy. Being split between Mom and Dad is more than swtiching houses, switching nicknames, switching backpacks: It's switching identities. If you're only seen as half of this and half of that, how can you ever feel whole? -- From dust jacket.

I reach out and touch my father's hand. I look at my pale fingers next to his. "Daddy?" "What, sweetie?" "Do you think people think I'm Black or white when they see me? Am I Black? Or white?" His lips turn up into the slightest of smiles. I can't tell if it's a sad one, though. He looks at me with his bright brown-almost-black eyes, eyes with thick lashes just like mine. "Yes" is his reply. "Yes."--Jacket.