{"product_id":"bronx-masquerade-isbn-9780425289761","title":"Bronx Masquerade","description":"\u003cb\u003eThis award-winning novel is a powerful exploration of self, an homage to spoken-word poetry, and an intriguing look into the life of eighteen teens.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen Wesley Boone writes a poem for his high school English class, some of his classmates clamor to read their poems aloud too. Soon they're having weekly poetry sessions and, one by one, the eighteen students are opening up and taking on the risky challenge of self-revelation. There's Lupe Alvarin, desperate to have a baby so she will feel loved. Raynard Patterson, hiding a secret behind his silence. Porscha Johnson, needing an outlet for her anger after her mother OD's. Through the poetry they share and narratives in which they reveal their most intimate thoughts about themselves and one another, their words and lives show what lies beneath the skin, behind the eyes, beyond the masquerade.\u003cp\u003e\"A flowing, rhythmic portrait of the diversity and individuality of teen characters in a classroom in Anywhere, U.S.A. . . . As their stories unfold and intertwine with those of their classmates, readers are able to observe changes in them and watch the group evolve into a more cohesive unit. . . . Competent and reluctant readers alike will recognize and empathize with these teens. As always, Grimes gives young people exactly what they're looking for--real characters who show them they are not alone.\"--\u003ci\u003eSLJ\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Funny and painful, awkward and abstract, the poems talk about race, abuse, parental love, neglect, death, and body image. Most of all, they try to reveal the individuals beyond the stereotypes. . . . Readers will enjoy the lively, smart voices that talk bravely about real issues and secret fears. A fantastic choice.\"--\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"All of the [students], black, Latino, white, male, and female, talk about the unease and alienation endemic to their ages, and they do it in fresh and appealing voices.  Rich and complex.\"--\u003ci\u003eKirkus\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Grimes's creative, contemporary premise will hook teens, and the poems may even inspire readers to try a few of their own.\"--\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003eNikki Grimes is the award-winning, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of dozens of children’s and young adult books as well as a poet and journalist.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eAmong the many accolades she has received are the Golden Dolphin Award (2005),the NCTE Award for Excellence in Poetry for Children (2006), the Coretta Scott King Award (2003) for \u003ci\u003eBronx Masquerade\u003c\/i\u003e, and the Horace Mann Upstanders Award (2011) for \u003ci\u003eAlmost Zero: A Dyamonde Daniel Book\u003c\/i\u003e. Additionally, her book \u003ci\u003eBarack Obama: Son of Promise, Child of Hope\u003c\/i\u003e (illustrated by Bryan Collier) was a \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cu\u003e \u003c\/u\u003ebestseller, and she was acknowledged as an NAACP Image Award Finalist in 1993 for her book \u003ci\u003eMalcolm X: a Force for Change\u003c\/i\u003e. Her books \u003ci\u003eMeet Danitra Brown\u003c\/i\u003e (illustrated by Floyd Cooper), \u003ci\u003eJazmin's Notebook\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eTalkin' About Bessie\u003c\/i\u003e (illustrated by E.B. Lewis), \u003ci\u003eDark Sons\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Road to Paris\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eWords with Wings\u003c\/i\u003e were each awarded Coretta Scott King Honors. Visit her online at www.nikkigrimes.com.\u003cb\u003eWesley “Bad Boy” Boone\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cp\u003eI ain’t particular about doing homework, you understand. My teachers practically faint whenever I turn something in. Matter of fact, I probably got the longest list of excuses for missing homework of anyone alive. Except for my homey Tyrone. He tries to act like he’s not even interested in school, like there’s no point in studying hard, or dreaming about tomorrow, or bothering to graduate. He’s got his reasons. I keep on him about going to school, though, saying I need the company. Besides, I tell him, if he drops out and gets a J.O.B., he won’t have any time to work on his songs. That always gets to him. Tyrone might convince everybody else that he’s all through with dreaming, but I know he wants to be a big hip-hop star. He’s just afraid he won’t live long enough to do it. Me, I hardly ever think about checking out. I’m more worried about figuring what I want to do if I live. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnyway, I haven’t had to drag Tyrone off to school lately, or make excuses for not having my homework done, because I’ve been doing it. It’s the Harlem Renaissance stuff that’s got us both going. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWe spent a month reading poetry from the Harlem Renaissance in our English class. Then Mr. Ward—that’s our teacher—asked us to write an essay about it. Make sense to you? Me neither. I mean, what’s the point of studying poetry and then writing essays? So I wrote a bunch of poems instead. They weren’t too shabby, considering I’d only done a few rap pieces before. My favorite was about Langston Hughes. How was I to know Teach would ask me to read it out loud? But I did. Knees knocking like a skeleton on Halloween, embarrassment bleaching my black cheeks red, eyes stapled to the page in front of me. But I did it, I read my poem.  \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGuess what. Nobody laughed. In fact, everybody thought it was cool. By the time I got back to my seat, other kids were shouting: “Mr. Ward, I got a poem too. Can I bring it in to read?”  \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTeach cocked his head to the side, like he was hearing something nobody else did. “How many people here have poems they’d like to read?” he asked. Three hands shot up. Mr. Ward rubbed his chin for a minute. “Okay,” he said. “Bring them with you tomorrow.”  \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAfter class Teach came over to my desk. “Great poem,” said Mr. Ward. “But I still expect to see an essay from you. I’ll give you another week.” So much for creative expression. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eLong Live Langston \u003cbr\u003eby Wesley Boone\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eTrumpeter of Lenox and 7th \u003cbr\u003ethrough Jesse B. Semple,\u003cbr\u003eyou simply celebrated \u003cbr\u003eBlues and Be-bop \u003cbr\u003eand being Black before\u003cbr\u003e it was considered hip. \u003cbr\u003eYou dipped into \u003cbr\u003ethe muddy waters \u003cbr\u003eof the Harlem River \u003cbr\u003eand shouted “taste and see”\u003cbr\u003ethat we Black folk be good\u003cbr\u003eat fanning hope\u003cbr\u003eand stoking the fires\u003cbr\u003eof dreams deferred.\u003cbr\u003eYou made sure \u003cbr\u003ethe world heard\u003cbr\u003eabout the beauty of\u003cbr\u003emaple sugar children, and the\u003cbr\u003e artfully tattooed backs of Black \u003cbr\u003esailors venturing out \u003cbr\u003eto foreign places.\u003cbr\u003eYour “Sweet Flypaper of Life”\u003cbr\u003eled us past the Apollo and on \u003cbr\u003ethrough 125th and all the other \u003cbr\u003eHarlem streets you knew like \u003cbr\u003ethe black of your hand.\u003cbr\u003eYou were a pied-piper, brother man\u003cbr\u003ewith poetry as your flute.\u003cbr\u003eIt’s my honor and pleasure to salute\u003cbr\u003e You, a true Renaissance man\u003cbr\u003eof Harlem.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eTyrone Bittings\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSchool ain’t nothin’ but a joke. My moms don’t want to hear that, but if it weren’t for Wesley and my other homeys, I wouldn’t even be here, aiight? These white folk talking ’bout some future, telling me I need to be planning for some future—like I got one! And Raynard agreeing, like he’s smart enough to know. From what I hear, that boy can’t hardly read! Anyway, it’s them white folk that get me with all this future mess. Like Steve, all hopped up about working on Broadway and telling me I should think about getting with it too. Asked me if I ever thought about writing plays. “Fool! What kinda question is that?” I said. He threw his hands up and backed off a few steps. “All I’m saying is, you’re a walking drama, man. You got that down pat, so maybe you should think about putting it on paper.” When that boy dyed his hair, I b’lieve some of that bleach must’ve seeped right into his brain. I grind my teeth and lower my voice. “Boy, get out my face,” I tell him. He finally gets the message and splits. I’m ticked off that he even got me thinking about such nonsense as Broadway.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhite folk! Who they think they kidding? They might as well go blow smoke up somebody else’s you-know-what, ’cause a Black man’s got no chance in this country. I be lucky if I make it to twenty-one with all these fools running round with AK-47s. Here I am one of the few kids I know whose daddy didn’t skip out on him, and he didn’t even make it to thirty. He was doing okay ’til he got blown away on a Saturday. Blam! Another statistic in a long line of drive-bys. Life is cold. Future? What I got is right now, right here, spending time with my homeys. Wish there was some future to talk about. I could use me some future.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’m just about ready to sleep off the whole year when this teacher starts talking about poetry. And he rattles off a poem by some white guy named Dylan Thomas that sounds an awful lotlike rap. Now I know me some rap, and I start to thinking I should show Mr. Ward what rap is really all about. So I tell him I’ve got a poem I’d like to read. “Bring it on Friday,” he says. “As a matter of fact, from now on, I’ll leave time for poetry readings at the end of every month. We’ll call them Open Mike Fridays.” Next thing I know, I’m digging my old rap poems out of my dresser drawer and bringing them to school. I’m thinking it can’t hurt to share them, even if there’s no chance I’ll ever get to be a songwriter. After all, it’s the one thing I could see myself doing if there really was a future. And I’m thinking that maybe there could be if I wanted it bad enough. And all of a sudden, I realize I do.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eOPEN MIKE\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eAttendance\u003cbr\u003eby Tyrone Bittings\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWe are all here \u003cbr\u003eLeslie and Bad Boy, Lupe and Raul, \u003cbr\u003eHere, here and here. \u003cbr\u003eDear Mr. Ward \u003cbr\u003ewith his wards and wardettes.\u003cbr\u003e   Let’s have a show of hands today. \u003cbr\u003e Is Porscha here? Is Diondra here?  \u003cbr\u003eWhere oh where is Sheila?    \u003cbr\u003eIt’s me, Tyrone, \u003cbr\u003eup here all alone\u003cbr\u003erapping into a microphone\u003cbr\u003e’cause I’ve got something to say:\u003cbr\u003eMTV is here, Mir and \u003cbr\u003emorning space-walks are here,\u003cbr\u003eTerrorism is here\u003cbr\u003elurking at the bus stop\u003cbr\u003ecan’t hop on the subway\u003cbr\u003ewithout thinkin’ of Tokyo—\u003cbr\u003ewe all know poison gas\u003cbr\u003edoes not discriminate.\u003cbr\u003eIt’s too late to worry\u003cbr\u003eabout my innocence\u003cbr\u003esince fear is here.\u003cbr\u003eWhy is it a weekend visit\u003cbr\u003eto your local Mickey D’s\u003cbr\u003emay be deadly?\u003cbr\u003eWhy hasn’t somebody\u003cbr\u003ecensored death?\u003cbr\u003eDon’t hold your breath waiting.\u003cbr\u003e Still you can chill and celebrate\u003cbr\u003eall that’s great about life, like music\u003cbr\u003eand the tick-tick-tick of time\u003cbr\u003ewhich is equal parts yours and mine\u003cbr\u003eto make of the world what we will.\u003cbr\u003eBut first, say no to coke, and smoke. \u003cbr\u003eSay no to police brutality\u003cbr\u003eand causing fatality.\u003cbr\u003eSay no to race hate.\u003cbr\u003eDon’t underestimate\u003cbr\u003ethe power of love.\u003cbr\u003eBut most of all\u003cbr\u003etake two poems\u003cbr\u003eand call me\u003cbr\u003ein the morning. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Dial Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46305235796197,"sku":"NP9780425289761","price":12.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780425289761.jpg?v=1767723103","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/bronx-masquerade-isbn-9780425289761","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}