{"product_id":"harlem-girl-lost-isbn-9780345492647","title":"Harlem Girl Lost","description":"“A true urban novel filled with vivid images of the street.”\u003cbr\u003e–Black Issues Book Review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTreasure E. Blue, street lit’s hottest newcomer, crafts characters that fly off the page and a story that burns with intensity. Set in Harlem, this searing novel is a poignant and gritty portrait of urban survival of the ghetto’s fittest . . . and most fierce.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSilver Jones knows just how cruel life can be. Her mother was chewed up and spit out by its dark side–brutally murdered while turning a trick. Rather than live with her abusive grandmother, Silver runs away. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDetermined to escape the mean streets, Silver longs for an education. But after running into an old friend, a homeless youth named Chance whom she’d taken under her wing once upon a time, Silver puts her dreams of college on hold. Chance is grown now–and he’s a powerful drug overlord. But underneath the cool exterior is the same innocent boy Silver once loved. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs they begin an affair, Silver tries to convince Chance to give up the lethal way of life that ruined both their childhoods. But Chance knows that walking away from the game means having to pay a deadly price. Silver won’t take no for an answer–even if it means delving into a seedy underworld and outscheming some of its most vicious drug-dealers and cold-blooded murderers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Even in Blue’s world of double-crossing, misogyny, drugs and brutality, an against-all-odds fairy tale can come true.”\u003cbr\u003e–Publishers Weekly\u003cb\u003eTreasure E. Blue \u003c\/b\u003ewas born and raised in Harlem. He formerly worked with the New York Fire Department as a supervising fire inspector in the Bronx. He now devotes himself full-time to writing and promoting his novels.Chapter 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Junior High School 196, Harlem\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      Silver Jones sat quietly at first, but her patience was running thin. The  longer she watched the jump-off go down, the more she began to get heated.  She knew it wasn’t her beef, but being the person she was, she couldn’t  just sit there and let her classmates get victimized by those two punks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Catching a first glance at Silver, one would naturally assume that the  eleven-year-old honor student was nothing more than a skinny, stuck-up  little daddy’s girl because of her flowery amberish hair, striking hazel  eyes, and flawless fair skin. But as many students found out, you should  never judge a book by its cover, because in addition to her fragile soft  looks and almost Urkel-like demeanor, she was also one of the fiercest  fighters in the entire school. She was definitely a freak of nature,  almost chameleon-like, because she could change from a mild-mannered angel  to a fucking Tasmanian devil in an instant, if you rubbed her the wrong  way. Silver wasn’t the type to start a fight—she only ended them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver’s mother, Jesse, was determined not to let her only daughter be  anyone’s fool, so she taught Silver about life, straight with no chaser.  She saw fit neither to talk to nor treat her like a child. Jesse felt that  life was too hard to sugarcoat things, especially to a poor black girl  from Harlem. Jesse saw far too many girls, including herself, fall victim  to the streets because they were naive and ignorant, and Jesse preferred  that Silver hear the ugly truth from her rather than hear a beautiful lie  from anyone else. Although many of the lectures Jesse gave Silver were  chilling and explicit, she felt it was far better that her daughter have  heard them and not need them than to need them and not have heard them.  Jesse programmed principles so deep into Silver’s mind that it was as if  she had wisdom beyond her eleven years.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    One of the many things Jesse taught Silver was to always do what her gut  told her to do if she felt she was in the right. So Silver did what came  naturally. She stood up at her desk and yelled, “Why don’t you leave them  alone, Problem!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Problem and Tyrell, the school bullies, had Beastly and Diego, Silver’s  two classmates, hemmed up in the back of the class as they rustled through  their pockets.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The other students turned to watch as Silver stared at them with her arms  folded, waiting for them to jump bad and say something slick, especially  Problem, because she couldn’t stand his ass anyway. Problem, whose real  name was Doyle, was blue-black and sloppily fat. He stared at Silver with  his dark, sullen eyes. It was silent enough that you could hear a pin drop  as the students watched and awaited his response.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Problem glanced at Tyrell, his partner in crime. Everyone knew that  Problem would have to say something or he was gonna look like a punk, but  by the same token, he knew that he didn’t want to say anything that would  piss Silver off. He knew very well about her and also knew she could fight  like a boy, so he harbored no quick desire to get in a battle he couldn’t  win. The two boys he was robbing, Beastly and Diego, said nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Beastly was the smallest boy in the class. He had recently arrived in the  United States from Kingston, Jamaica. His real name was Beasley, but his  classmates called him Beastly because of his huge Rastafarian dreadlocks,  which made him look like a lion. Diego, on the other hand, was a pudgy  Spanish kid who was just as big if not bigger than they were, but he was a  punk and got robbed every day because of it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Tyrell, rail thin, with missing front teeth, urged Problem to handle his  business; he assured him that she was only a girl and that he was the  fucking man.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Yo,” said Tyrell, “you gonna let that skinny bitch front on you, dog?”  Sucking his teeth, he added, “Nigga, you know I got your back!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Problem tossed Diego aside and sneered at Silver. “And if I don’t, what  the fuck you gonna do about it?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Problem’s defiance quickly deflated when he heard click . . . click.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Missy, Silver’s best friend, clicked open an orange box cutter. Missy  Anderson was a tall girl for twelve, with pretty dark skin and hair that  hung down over her shoulders. She often lost her temper if she didn’t get  her way, and would fight anyone for any reason, especially boys. She was  third-generation project and simply didn’t give a fuck. She’d grown up in  a family of all women, no males, so they had to hold it down. She’d grown  up watching her mother, grandmother, and aunts fight and maim their  boyfriends or other women around the proj-ects. Their weaponry varied from  straight razors and butcher knives to NBC (nigger be cool) sticks, which  were bats with rusty nails sticking out of them. But their weapon of  choice was a special concoction that consisted of Red Devil lye, ammonia,  and urine, a secret family recipe that had been handed down for  generations. If they felt other women wanted their man, a bitch looked at  them funny, or there was some typical “he said, she said” shit, these  infractions were dealt with swiftly. Everyone knew that if you fought one  Anderson broad, you had to fight them all. That’s how they got down, and  this kept the entire Anderson clan fighting year-round in the projects.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As a matter of fact, that was how Silver and Missy had met, fighting each  other. When they’d first met in the fifth grade, they hated each other’s  guts and fought like gladiators every day, neither girl backing down an  inch. It got to the point that they simply kept their faces greased with  Vaseline and their hair braided at all times because they never knew when  the other would stage a sneak attack.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Then one day after school while both girls were serving detention for  fighting, a third person had been needed to play double dutch, and Silver  was the only one around. So Missy approached Silver, who stood immediately  ready to throw down. But Missy nonchalantly asked, “Yo, bitch, you want to  play rope?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver looked her in the eyes, then glanced at the rope, and spoke with  attitude. “Yeah, hoe, I like to play . . . but I’m jumping first!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    From that day on, with a simple rope and a common love for double dutch,  they’d been the best of friends, having each other’s back through hell and  high water. They had no choice, because they found it easier and a lot  less bloody to be friends than enemies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Now both boys eyed Missy as she towered over them. Problem turned toward  Silver.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Yo, I ain’t messing with you, so why you gots to be all up in my  bidness?” he asked, his tone less confident.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver stepped closer, both hands on her hips. “I’m making it my business.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Problem was shook, especially when Tyrell backed away and bounced from the  classroom, leaving him alone to handle his business by his lonesome.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Missy stood behind him and whispered chillingly in his ear as she placed  the box cutter to his blubbery neck. “Talk that shit now, bitch?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Problem stood speechless, ready to shit on himself. Silver stared at him  with disgust. “Yo, why you only pick on people you know won’t fight back?”  Before he could answer, she rolled her eyes and swayed her head from side  to side. “Because they’ll kick your fat funky ass,” she answered, and  mushed him in the forehead for good measure. The entire class busted out  in laughter, taunting and hissing him. Silver waited for Problem to make a  move, but amazingly, all he did was smile.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    It suddenly occurred to her that the entire class had gone silent and sat  properly in their chairs. With a sense of dread, Silver slowly turned and  saw her teacher, Mr. Bonds, standing in the doorway, wearing a stern look.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Miss Jones, I want you to go straight to the principal’s office and tell  him about that filthy and disgusting mouth of yours.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “But Mr. Bonds,” Silver pleaded, “Problem’s not even in this class, and he  was—”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Problem quickly interrupted. “Ms. Horsley asked me to find some chalk . .  . and that’s when she,” he said, pointing at Silver, “started messin’ with  me for no reason.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “You’s a goddamn liar,” Silver snapped. “I’m not going on detention  because of your lying ass!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Mr. Bonds’ eyes widened. “Curse one more time, Miss Jones, and I assure  you that detention will be the least of your worries!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver realized her mistake. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bonds, but he’s lying. . . .  I mean, you can ask Beasley and Diego, they were—”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Hearing none of it, he simply pointed toward the door. “Now, Miss Jones!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver looked toward Diego and Beasley to back her up, but they remained  silent because Problem was eye-screwing them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Missy stepped forward. “Mr. Bonds, she’s right. Problem was—”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Did anyone ask you, Miss Anderson?” Mr. Bonds coldly cut her off. “And  why are you out of your seat in the first place? Now sit your contemptuous  self down before you go with her!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Missy looked like she wanted to curse him out something awful, but Silver  gestured for her to remain silent. The entire school knew Mr. Bonds was  soft on little boys and harder on the girls, so it made no sense for both  of them to get detention.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Leave now, Miss Pretty,” he mocked. Collecting the books off her desk,  Silver turned to glare at smart-ass Problem, who was smiling and waving  bye-bye.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As Silver sat in the main office awaiting the principal, she noticed a  musty odor that smelled like a dead rat. She frowned and held her nose,  hoping that the principal would hurry up. It sounded like the principal  was already in a conference with Ms. Horsley, who taught the dumber  students downstairs. She heard every word of their discussion in the  office. Apparently Ms. Horsley was talking about one of her students, who  wasn’t participating in her class.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Come on, Andrea,” the principal said. “You are a teacher, for Christ’s  sake! Do your job and work a little harder with the boy.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver turned and noticed a scruffy-looking boy sitting silently at the  other end of the room, staring impassively at the walls. She knew  immediately they were referring to him. His clothes were tattered, and his  hair was so nappy it was turning into beaded dreads from lack of combing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Ms. Horsley spoke, her voice heavy with frustration. “Listen, Bill, I’m a  teacher, not a miracle worker. The boy needs to be in a special ed program  or something—he can’t read, he can’t even write. I have other students I  have to focus on instead of trying to teach the boy his ABC’s! No,” she  said,  “there’s nothing I can possibly do for him, and to be quite honest  with you, I personally think the boy is retarded or something.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Anything else?” the principal asked, defeated.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “A bath from time to time wouldn’t hurt him, either. He smells like raw  sewage!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver looked at the sad-looking boy, but he showed no emotion or reaction  to the cruel words the teacher said about him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      It was sixth period at Junior High School 196, lunchtime for all the  seventh graders. Silver had just gotten off the canteen line after  purchasing some butter crunch cookies and chocolate milk. No seventh  grader in their right mind would be caught dead eating a school lunch.  Silver, still fuming over receiving two days’ detention, spotted the boy  she had seen in the principal’s office earlier that day. He sat alone in  the corner of the cafeteria eating a tray of hot dogs and pork and beans.  Silver watched him for a moment, ignoring Missy and the rest of their crew  as they waved for her to come and sit with them. Having the same  compassion for the less fortunate as her mother did, Silver decided to go  and sit with the lonely little boy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As Silver approached him, the students in the cafeteria looked on in  silence as she placed her cookies and milk on the table in front of him.  When she sat down, the boy stopped chewing and stiffened. Silver didn’t  have any classes with him because she was in the advanced and gifted  program.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver watched the timid little boy shiver like a wet puppy, and she began  to feel even sorrier for him. She decided to break the ice. “So how long  you been coming to this school?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Not long,” he mumbled, mouth full of food.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver could not understand him. “Excuse me?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Embarrassed, he quickly gulped down the remaining food. “Not real long,”  he repeated.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “So, what’s your name?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Face still averted, he answered, “Chance.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver frowned. “Chance . . . what kind of name is that?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    His eyes remained on his food. “Well, my real name is Chancellor . . .  Chancellor Haze. But I don’t like it, so I just tell people to call me  Chance for short.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “I think Chancellor is a beautiful name,” Silver said. “But if you prefer  to be called Chance, I’ll respect that.” She smiled. “My name is Silver.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As if he was talking to his food, he shrugged. “Silver,” he said. “And you  talkin’ ’bout my name?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver chuckled. “You’re right. I should be the last person to talk about  names.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “How’d you get a name like that?” he asked, still looking at his food.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As if she had answered the question a million times already, Silver opened  up her milk and said, “Well, when I was born, the nurse was cradling me in  her arms when I opened my eyes. She said to my mother, ‘Oh, what beautiful  eyes she has . . . they look almost silver. What is her name?’ She handed  me to my mother, who took one look at me and said, ‘That’s her name.  Silver . . . Silver Jones.’ ”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver picked up her napkin, wiped her hands, and extended one of them for  him to shake. He didn’t notice her hand at first, so she waved it to get  his attention. He quickly shook it and pulled back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver smiled widely and said, “Now it’s official. That makes us friends,  right?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Chance shrugged and said, “I guess.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “And since we are friends now . . .” Silver bent lower to get his  attention. “I ask but one favor.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “What?” Chance looked up suspiciously and then lowered his eyes again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Silver answered seriously, “When we talk, I would appreciate it if you  looked at me when you do, okay?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Slowly, Chance raised his head and looked into her smiling face.Essence bestseller [quote]--Black Issues Book Review","brand":"One World","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301348659429,"sku":"NP9780345492647","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345492647.jpg?v=1767728725","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/harlem-girl-lost-isbn-9780345492647","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}