{"product_id":"before-the-ever-afterisbn-9780399545436","title":"Before the Ever After","description":"\u003cb\u003eWINNER OF THE NAACP IMAGE AWARD\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWINNER OF THE CORETTA SCOTT KING AUTHOR AWARD\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNational Book Award winner Jacqueline Woodson's stirring novel-in-verse explores how a family moves forward when their glory days have passed and the cost of professional sports on Black bodies.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor as long as ZJ can remember, his dad has been everyone's hero. As a charming, talented pro football star, he's as beloved to the neighborhood kids he plays with as he is to his millions of adoring sports fans. But lately life at ZJ's house is anything but charming. His dad is having trouble remembering things and seems to be angry all the time. ZJ's mom explains it's because of all the head injuries his dad sustained during his career. ZJ can understand that--but it doesn't make the sting any less real when his own father forgets his name. As ZJ contemplates his new reality, he has to figure out how to hold on tight to family traditions and recollections of the glory days, all the while wondering what their past amounts to if his father can't remember it. And most importantly, can those happy feelings ever be reclaimed when they are all so busy aching for the past?\u003cb\u003e*\u003c\/b\u003e “Woodson's text may be spare, but it has the emotional wallop of an offensive tackle.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eShelf Awareness\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e* \u003c\/b\u003e“Woodson’s latest novel in verse conveys that not all success stories have a fairy-tale ending. Readers will feel an immediate connection to ZJ and his group of authentic, complex friends and family. The idea of showing the dark side of fame through the experiences of a young family member is a unique perspective that will resonate with readers of all ages. ZJ’s story will stay with the audience long after the last page is read. A first choice for all collections. A unique take on sports and fame told from an unexpected perspective, and another incredible read ­delivered by Woodson.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e*\u003c\/b\u003e “Using spare and lyrical language for ZJ’s present-tense narration, which moves back and forth through time, Woodson skillfully portrays the confusion, fear, and sadness when a family member suffers from brain injury and the personality changes it brings. . . . The well-rounded secondary characters complete a mosaic of a loving African American family and their community of friends. . . . A poignant and achingly beautiful narrative shedding light on the price of a violent sport.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e*\u003c\/b\u003e “Woodson delivers a poignant new novel in verse that highlights an important topic within the sports world, especially football. . . . ZJ’s life quickly turns from charmed to tragic as he has to face that his father and family are forever changed. . . . Woodson again shows herself to be a masterful writer, and her meaningful exploration of concussions and head injuries in football, a subject rarely broached in middle-grade fiction, provides young athletes with necessary insights into sport's less glamorous side. In addition to this, it is a novel that explores family, mental illness, and the healing that a tight-knit, loving community can provide.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e*\u003c\/b\u003e “Woodson explores the impact of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) on football players and their families from the perspective of ZJ, son of tight end Zachariah ‘44’ Johnson. . . . In lyrical verse, Woodson conveys the confusion and loss that many families feel as they try to figure out what is wrong with their loved one. Each of the poems ably captures the voice of the story’s preteen boy protagonist; readers can feel the sense of love and loss that ZJ is experiencing as his dad slips away. Even though that loss is difficult, Woodson reminds readers that life’s challenges are more easily faced with the support of friends and family.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eHorn Book\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e* \u003c\/b\u003e“A beautiful and heart-wrenching story. . . . Eloquent prose poetry creates a moving narrative that reveals the grief of a child trying to understand why his father has changed and why nothing can be done. An ardent account of the multitudes of losses experienced by those who suffer from chronic traumatic encephalopathy and its effects on their families, ZJ's doleful tale unveils the intense nostalgia and hope one can feel despite realizing that sometimes what is lost can never be regained.\"—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This is a heartbreaking tale brimming with sympathy, and it draws much of its impact from the characterization of Zachariah’s father; while the portrait is obviously burnished by ZJ’s hero worship, it’s also clear that Zachariah Senior is a man of deep kindness and generosity who loves his son greatly, and whose decline leaves a huge hole in his fiercely close African-American family. ZJ’s move toward music and his increasing reliance on his friends are age-appropriate shifts that have particular poignance given the situation. While the football and CTE elements give this resonance for young athletes, many readers will be sadly familiar with the painful waning of a family member, and they’ll be heartened by ZJ’s love and resilience.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eJacqueline Woodson (www.jacquelinewoodson.com) is the recipient of a 2023 Guggenheim Foundation Fellowship, a 2020 MacArthur Fellowship, the 2020 Hans Christian Andersen Award, the 2018 Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award, and the 2018 Children's Literature Legacy Award. She was the 2018-2019 National Ambassador for Young People's Literature, and in 2015, she was named the Young People's Poet Laureate by the Poetry Foundation. She received the 2014 National Book Award for her \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling memoir \u003ci\u003eBrown Girl Dreaming\u003c\/i\u003e, which was also a recipient of the Coretta Scott King Award, a Newbery Honor, the NAACP Image Award, and a Sibert Honor. She wrote the adult books \u003ci\u003eRed at the Bone\u003c\/i\u003e, a \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestseller, and \u003ci\u003eAnother Brooklyn\u003c\/i\u003e, a 2016 National Book Award finalist. Born in Columbus, Ohio, Jacqueline grew up in Greenville, South Carolina, and Brooklyn, New York, and graduated from college with a B.A. in English. She is the author of dozens of award-winning books for young adults, middle graders, and children; among her many accolades, she is a four-time Newbery Honor winner, a four-time National Book Award finalist, and a three-time Coretta Scott King Award winner. Her books include Coretta Scott King Award winner \u003ci\u003eBefore the Ever After\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestsellers \u003ci\u003eThe Day You Begin\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eHarbor Me\u003c\/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003eThe Other Side\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eEach Kindness\u003c\/i\u003e, Caldecott Honor book \u003ci\u003eComing On Home Soon\u003c\/i\u003e; Newbery Honor winners \u003ci\u003eFeathers\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eShow Way\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eAfter Tupac and D Foster\u003c\/i\u003e; and \u003ci\u003eMiracle's Boys\u003c\/i\u003e, which received the \u003ci\u003eLA Times\u003c\/i\u003e Book Prize and the Coretta Scott King Award. Jacqueline is also a recipient of the Margaret A. Edwards Award for lifetime achievement for her contributions to young adult literature and a two-time winner of the Jane Addams Children's Book Award. She lives with her family in Brooklyn, New York.\u003cb\u003eMemory like a Movie\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe memory goes like this:\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eOllie’s got the ball and he’s running across my yard when \u003cbr\u003eDad comes out of nowhere,\u003cbr\u003esoft tackles him to the ground.\u003cbr\u003eThen everyone is cheering and laughing because \u003cbr\u003ewe didn’t even know my dad was home.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eI thought you had a game, \u003c\/i\u003eI say, grabbing him.\u003cbr\u003eIt’s a half hug, half tackle, but\u003cbr\u003ethe other guys—Darry and Daniel—hop on too \u003cbr\u003eand Ollie’s escaped, so he jumps\u003cbr\u003eon top of all of us jumping on my dad.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eYeah, Mr. J., \u003c\/i\u003eDarry says. \u003ci\u003eI thought we’d be watching you \u003cbr\u003eon TV tonight.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eCoach giving me a break, \u003c\/i\u003emy daddy says. He climbs out \u003cbr\u003efrom under,\u003cbr\u003eshaking us off like we’re feathers, not boys.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eAh man! \u003c\/i\u003eDarry says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eYeah, \u003c\/i\u003ewe all say. \u003ci\u003eAh man!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eSometimes a player needs to rest, \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eDaddy says. \u003cbr\u003eHe looks at each of us for a long time.\u003cbr\u003eA strange look. Like he’s just now seeing us.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen he tosses the ball so far, we can’t even see it anymore. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd my boys say\u003ci\u003e \u003ci\u003eAh man, you threw it too far!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003ewhile I go back behind the garage where \u003cbr\u003ewe have a whole bunch of footballs \u003cbr\u003ewaiting and ready\u003cbr\u003efor when my daddy sends one into the abyss.\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eEverybody’s Looking for a Hero  \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eOnce, when I was a little kid, \u003cbr\u003ethis newscaster guy asked me if \u003cbr\u003emy dad was my biggest hero.\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eNo, \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eI said.\u003ci\u003e \u003ci\u003eMy dad’s just my dad.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eThere was a crowd of newscasters circling around me, \u003cbr\u003eall of them with their microphones aimed\u003cbr\u003eat my face. Maybe I was nervous, I don’t remember now.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eMaybe it was after his first Super Bowl win, his ring \u003cbr\u003enew and shining on his finger. Me just a little kid,\u003cbr\u003eso the ring was this whole glittering world, \u003cbr\u003egold and black and diamonds against\u003cbr\u003emy daddy’s brown hand.\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eI remember hearing the reporter say \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003ci\u003eListen to those fans! Looks like everybody’s \u003cbr\u003efound their next great hero.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eAnd now I’m thinking back to those times\u003cbr\u003ewhen the cold wind whipped around me and Mom \u003cbr\u003eas we sat wrapped in blankets, yelling Dad’s name, \u003cbr\u003eso close to the game, we could see the angry spit \u003cbr\u003espraying from the other team’s coach’s lips.\u003cbr\u003eSo close, we could see the sweat on my daddy’s neck.\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd all the people around us cheering,\u003cbr\u003eall the people going around calling out his number, \u003cbr\u003ecalling out his name.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eZachariah 44! Zachariah 44!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIs your daddy your hero? \u003c\/i\u003ethe newscaster had asked me.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eAnd all these years later, just like that day, I know \u003cbr\u003ehe’s not my hero,\u003cbr\u003ehe’s my dad, which means \u003cbr\u003ehe’s my every single thing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eDay after the Game  \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDay after the game\u003cbr\u003eand Daddy gets out of bed slow. \u003cbr\u003eHis whole body, he says,\u003cbr\u003eis 223 pounds of pain\u003cbr\u003efrom toes to knees, from knees to ribs, \u003cbr\u003eevery single hit he took yesterday \u003cbr\u003eremembered in the morning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eBefore the Ever After  \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBefore the ever after, there was Daddy driving \u003cbr\u003eto Village Ice Cream\u003cbr\u003eon a Saturday night in July before preseason training.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eBefore the ever after, there was Mom in the back seat \u003cbr\u003eletting me ride up front, me and Daddy\u003cbr\u003ehaving Man Time together \u003cbr\u003ewaving to everyone\u003cbr\u003ewho pointed at our car and said \u003ci\u003eThat’s him!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBefore the ever after, the way people said\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eThat’s him! \u003c\/i\u003esounded like a cheer.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eBefore the ever after, the people pointing \u003cbr\u003ewere always smiling.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eBefore the ever after, Daddy’s hands didn’t always tremble \u003cbr\u003eand his voice didn’t shake\u003cbr\u003eand his head didn’t hurt all the time.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eBefore the ever after, there were picnics \u003cbr\u003eon Sunday afternoons in Central Park \u003cbr\u003edriving through the tunnel to get to the city \u003cbr\u003eme and Daddy making up songs.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eBefore the ever after, there were sandwiches \u003cbr\u003eon the grass near Strawberry Fields\u003cbr\u003echicken salad and barbecue beef \u003cbr\u003eand ham with apples and Brie\u003cbr\u003ethere were dark chocolates with almonds and \u003cbr\u003emilk chocolates with coconut\u003cbr\u003eand fruit and us just laughing and laughing.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eBefore the ever after, there was the three of us \u003cbr\u003eand we lived happily\u003cbr\u003ebefore the ever after.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eDaniel  \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn second grade, Daniel walked over to me, Ollie and Darry, \u003cbr\u003esaid \u003ci\u003eYou guys want to race from here to the tree\u003c\/i\u003e?\u003cbr\u003eWhen he lost, he laughed and didn’t even care, \u003cbr\u003ejust high-fived Darry, who always wins\u003cbr\u003eevery race every time and said\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eYou got feet like wings, bruh.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen he got on his bike and we knew \u003cbr\u003ehe wasn’t regular. He was fearless.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eEven back then, he could already\u003cbr\u003edo things on a bike that a bike wasn’t made for doing— \u003cbr\u003epopping wheelies and spinning and standing up on the seat \u003cbr\u003ewhile holding on to the handlebars and speeding\u003cbr\u003edown the steepest hills in town.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eMe, Darry and Ollie used to call ourselves Tripod \u003cbr\u003ecuz the three us came together like that.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eBut when we met Daniel, we became the Fantastic Four.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eAnd even after he broke his arm\u003cbr\u003ewhen he jumped a skate park ramp right into a wall, \u003cbr\u003ehe didn’t stop riding.\u003cbr\u003eHe said \u003ci\u003eMy cast is like a second helmet,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eheld it high in the air\u003cbr\u003ewith the unbroken arm holding the handlebars\u003cbr\u003eand then not holding them and Daniel flying \u003cbr\u003earound the park like some kid\u003cbr\u003egravity couldn’t mess with.\u003cbr\u003eWhile me and Darry and Ollie watched him amazed. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd terrified.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eZJ  \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI used to wonder who I’d be if “Zachariah 44” Johnson \u003cbr\u003ewasn’t my daddy.\u003cbr\u003eFirst time people who know\u003cbr\u003eeven a little bit about football meet me, \u003cbr\u003eit’s like they know \u003ci\u003ehim\u003c\/i\u003e, not me. To them, \u003cbr\u003eI’m Zachariah’s son.\u003cbr\u003eThe tight end guy’s kid.\u003cbr\u003eI’m Zachariah Johnson Jr. ZJ. I’m the one \u003cbr\u003ewhose daddy plays pro ball. I’m the tall kid\u003cbr\u003ewith my daddy’s same broad shoulders. I’m the one \u003cbr\u003ewho doesn’t dream of going pro.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eMusic maybe.\u003cbr\u003eBut not football.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eStill, even at school, feels like my dad’s in two places \u003cbr\u003eat once—dropping me off out front, saying\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eLearn lots, little man, \u003c\/i\u003ethen\u003cbr\u003ewalking into the classroom ahead of me.\u003cbr\u003eI mean, not \u003ci\u003ehim \u003c\/i\u003ebut\u003cbr\u003ehis shadow. And me almost invisible \u003cbr\u003einside it.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eExcept to my boys\u003cbr\u003ewho see \u003ci\u003eme \u003c\/i\u003ewalking into the classroom and say\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWhat’s up, ZJ?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eYour mom throw any cookies in your lunch? \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eThen all three of them open their hands \u003cbr\u003ebeneath their desks so that when\u003cbr\u003ethe teacher’s back is turned \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI can sneak them one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eYou Love a Thing?  \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eEver since I was a little kid,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eI’ve loved football, \u003c\/i\u003emy daddy told me. \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eThrough every broken toe and cracked rib \u003cbr\u003eand jammed finger\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eand slam to the shoulder \u003cbr\u003eand slam to the head, I still loved it.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eYou got something you love, little man? \u003cbr\u003eThen you good.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eYou love food? You cook.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eYou love clothes? You design.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eYou love the wind and water? You sail.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eMe, \u003c\/i\u003emy daddy said,\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eI love everything about the game. \u003cbr\u003eEven the smell of the ball.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen he laughed, said\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eImagine loving something so much, you love \u003cbr\u003ethe smell of it?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIt smells like leather and dirt and sweat and new snow.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eI love football with all\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eof my senses. Love the taste and feel \u003cbr\u003eof the air in my mouth\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003erunning with the ball on a cold day. Love the smell\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eof the ball when I press it to my face\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eand the smell of the field right after it rains.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eI love the way the sky looks as we stare up at it\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003ewhile some celebrity sings “The Star-Spangled Banner.” \u003cbr\u003eLove the sound of the crowd cheering us on.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWhen you love a thing, little man, \u003c\/i\u003emy dad said,\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eyou gotta love it with everything you got.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eTill you can’t even tell where that thing you love begins \u003cbr\u003eand where you end.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eWho We Are \u0026amp; What We Love  \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOllie divides fractions in his head,\u003cbr\u003ecan multiply them too—gives you the answer while \u003cbr\u003eyou’re still trying to write down the problem, knows \u003cbr\u003eso much about so much but doesn’t show off\u003cbr\u003eabout knowing.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eDarry—besides running fast, he can dance. Get the music \u003cbr\u003egoing and my boy moves like water flowing.\u003cbr\u003eAll smooth like that.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eDaniel’s super chill, says stuff like\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eYou okay, my man? You need to talk?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eAnd really means it. And really listens.\u003cbr\u003eCalls his bike a Magic Broom, spins it in so many circles \u003cbr\u003ewe all get dizzy, but not Daniel,\u003cbr\u003ewho bounces the front tire back to earth \u003cbr\u003ewithout even blinking,\u003cbr\u003esays\u003ci\u003e \u003ci\u003eThat was for all of y’all who are stuck on the ground.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eMe, I play the guitar. Mostly songs \u003cbr\u003ethat come into my head. Music\u003cbr\u003eis always circling my brain. Hard to explain \u003cbr\u003ehow songs do that.\u003cbr\u003eBut when I play them, everything \u003cbr\u003emakes some kind of strange sense like \u003cbr\u003emy guitar has all the answers.\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen I sing, the songs feel \u003cbr\u003eas magic as Daniel’s bike\u003cbr\u003eas brilliant as Ollie’s numbers \u003cbr\u003eas smooth as Darry’s moves\u003cbr\u003eas good as the four of us hanging out \u003cbr\u003eon a bright cold Saturday afternoon.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eIt feels right \u003cbr\u003eand clear \u003cbr\u003eand \u003ci\u003ealways.\u003c\/i\u003e","brand":"Nancy Paulsen Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302844256485,"sku":"NP9780399545436","price":17.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399545436_f3d28fef-ae79-4253-8d23-d3f0e516ffd1.jpg?v=1730752214","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/before-the-ever-afterisbn-9780399545436","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}