No missed calls. It was 8:51 p.m., nine minutes before meet-up time. I could hear Jazz talking on the phone in her bedroom, probably to one of her homegirls. I wondered for a second if it could’ve been Joe Malloy. But I’m sure it wasn’t, just because Jazz never went a night without gossiping and ...
And to be honest, it was. At least, at first. I got to punch that jerk Brandon in the face—I know, I know, not cool, but still!—leave school early, and hang out at the track with my new coach—because I was on a team now—who turned out to be a pretty cool dude. Me and Coach didn’t go no further in...
RAY’S dungeon adventure, things kind of smoothed out for a while. Well, maybe not smoothed out, but at least there were no more surprises. And that was a good thing. Me feeling crazy about my mom dying was still there, bugging me the most at night when I was in bed, and Tupac probably wasn’t help...
Scratch that. There was this dude named Aaron Douglas. A painter in the time of the Harlem Renaissance. Mrs. Caperdeen, my art teacher freshman year, turned me on to him during a lesson about artists from that period. Now, I had already been into art, way before Mrs. Caperdeen’s class. I’ve been ...