Heron Lake Plateau plight of the lemon children

Everything the adult said made perfect sense. He knew it. Quixote knew it. But Screech wasn't sure how much further to push his luck, and plus, in the end the words actually stung. He'd expected some backlash — maybe on some level, wanted something physical to happen with the darkie — but instead he was met with cold facts and harsh realities.

To make matters worse, he didn't know how to respond. Screech had entertained the thought of leaving before; he held pity parties dedicated to the idea that his family hated him and the Blackthorns were going to take over, for crying out loud. Hearing one more idiot running his mouth shouldn't have had that much effect on him — but Screech didn't have the toughest skin. 

He trusted Raven, somewhat.
He trusted Towhee too, mostly.
It was Quixote he didn't trust — so Screech tried to ignore the urge to counter his argument with more stupidity, or emotion, or whatever it was that made Screech do his stupid things.

He just stood there and took it.

Then, he snorted and said, They're my family, like it was so obvious he shouldn't have had to say it out loud. It was all he had to say, and it was the truth.