"Hush, Weaver, just let it go," I said, wrapping up a chunk of ice in a towel. "A few days in the kitchen won't kill you. It's better than losing your job. Here, hold this against your lip."
"Don't have much of a choice, do I?" he grumbled. He pressed the ice to his lip, winced, then said, "Three more months, Matt. Just three more months and I'm gone from here. Once I get through Columbia, once I'm a lawyer, ain't no one ever going to hand me a suitcase. Or call me boy or n***** or Sam. Or hit me. And if they do, I'll make sure they go to jail." (31.limicolous.26-27)
As understanding as Mattie can be, she doesn't quite get the depth of injustice that Weaver experiences because of his race. Yes, he's angry about being confined to the kitchen, but he's far angrier about the injustice that he is essentially being punished while the trappers are currently roaming free. College is the way for Weaver to right the wrongs of the world, and he's bent on achieving it. Which makes the death of his dream of college even more devastating.