{"product_id":"the-brimstone-journals-isbn-9780763617424","title":"The Brimstone Journals","description":"\u003cb\u003eRon Koertge's startling, often poignant poetic novel evokes a suburban high school both familiar and terrifying.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Branston High School Class of 2001 seems familiar enough on the surface: there’s the Smart One, the Fat Kid, Social Conscience, Bad Girl, Good Girl, Jock, Anorexic, Dyke, Rich Boy, Sistah, Stud . . . and Boyd, an Angry Young Man who has just made a dangerous new friend. Now he’s making a list.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Branston High School Class of 2001. You might think you know them. You might be surprised.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNarrated by fifteen teenage characters, this startling, often poignant poetic novel evokes a suburban high school both familiar and terrifying — and provides an ideal opportunity for young adults to discuss violence in schools.\u003cb\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eLester\u003cbr\u003eMy dad’d freak if he knew I played\u003cbr\u003ewith it, but I can’t help myself. And\u003cbr\u003eI’m not hurting anybody.\u003cbr\u003eThe bullets are across the room \u003cbr\u003ein his sock drawer. The Glock is by\u003cbr\u003ethe bed, same place as the condoms.\u003cbr\u003eI like to hold it in my hand. Everything\u003cbr\u003egets sharper, I don’t know why.\u003cbr\u003eI feel skinnier instead of just this big \u003cbr\u003ebag of fries and Coke and pepperoni.\u003cbr\u003eIf I take off my clothes, it’s cool \u003cbr\u003eon my skin.\u003cbr\u003eI’d never hurt anybody but if I did\u003cbr\u003ethis is how I’d do it—butt naked.\u003cbr\u003eAnd I’d start in the gym. They wouldn’t\u003cbr\u003elaugh then, would they? The jocks would\u003cbr\u003ecrap their pants. The girls’d kiss my fat\u003cbr\u003efeet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTran\u003cbr\u003eMy father came here with his parents when\u003cbr\u003ehe was ten. In the boat, there was room \u003cbr\u003efor two to sleep, so they took turns \u003cbr\u003estanding up.\u003cbr\u003eBy 1980 they owned a small market.\u003cbr\u003eBy 1990 three more. My mother and father\u003cbr\u003eoften worked twenty hours a day. I started\u003cbr\u003estocking shelves at age six.\u003cbr\u003eEverybody warned against black people,\u003cbr\u003ebut who turned out to be full of hatred\u003cbr\u003efor our prosperity? Others like us, some\u003cbr\u003efrom a village not five kilometers away\u003cbr\u003efrom where my mother was born.\u003cbr\u003eFather does not want me to forget the country\u003cbr\u003eI have never seen. Every day an hour of\u003cbr\u003eVietnamese only. Then another of music\u003cbr\u003ewith traditional instruments.\u003cbr\u003eHe wants me to be richer than he, more\u003cbr\u003esuccessful. Yet he begrudges one hundred\u003cbr\u003edollars for the ugly new glasses I need.\u003cbr\u003eHis dreams are like a box I cannot put down. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBoyd\u003cbr\u003eDad drifts in about three a.m. a couple of nights\u003cbr\u003eago, and I’m just finishing up Dog Day Afternoon \u003cbr\u003efor the nineteenth time.\u003cbr\u003eHe’s still a little faded and sometimes that\u003cbr\u003emakes him all paternal, so he gets us a couple\u003cbr\u003eof beers. I’ve seen this before when he’s shot\u003cbr\u003esome pretty good pool and some hootchie’s\u003cbr\u003etold him he looks like Harrison Ford.\u003cbr\u003eThings are gonna change, he says. There’s \u003cbr\u003egonna be a lunch for me to take to school\u003cbr\u003eevery day, sandwiches with that brown\u003cbr\u003emustard. No more doing his laundry. \u003cbr\u003eAnd you know that dog I always wanted? \u003cbr\u003eIt’s mine.\u003cbr\u003ePart of me wants it to be true so bad my teeth\u003cbr\u003ehurt. But I’m not holding my breath.\u003cbr\u003e\"So how’s school?\"\u003cbr\u003eHere we go. \u003cbr\u003eAfter he calls me stupid about ten times,\u003cbr\u003eI split. I run for like a block but I’m totally\u003cbr\u003eout of shape, so I just walk until I stop wanting \u003cbr\u003eto kill him. Then I crash in the basement.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAllison\u003cbr\u003eA thirty-nine-year-old man in California\u003cbr\u003edrives his Cadillac into a playground\u003cbr\u003eand kills two kids because he wanted\u003cbr\u003eto execute innocent children.\u003cbr\u003eThat isn’t a sign of social collapse?\u003cbr\u003eTwenty-five million teenagers go to \u003cbr\u003etwenty thousand schools in the U.S. \u003cbr\u003eTen kids, TEN KIDS, in seven schools\u003cbr\u003edid all the shooting, ALL OF IT, \u003cbr\u003ein 1998-99.\u003cbr\u003eIn the same two years, grownups \u003cbr\u003ein southern California alone massacred\u003cbr\u003eforty people.\u003cbr\u003eI know what I’m talking about. I did\u003cbr\u003eresearch for this paper I had to write. \u003cbr\u003eI got a B- because my report \"wasn’t \u003cbr\u003efocused.\"\u003cbr\u003eReally? Could that be because when I \u003cbr\u003ewas typing it my stepfather kept trying \u003cbr\u003eto massage my shoulders because I looked \u003cbr\u003e\"tense\"?\u003cbr\u003eI’ve told him I hate that. I’ve told my mom.\u003cbr\u003eShe says he’s just being friendly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Brimstone Journals.  Copyright (c) 2001 Ron Koertge. Candlewick Press, Inc., Cambridge, MA","brand":"Candlewick","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300419948773,"sku":"NP9780763617424","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780763617424.jpg?v=1767738540","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-brimstone-journals-isbn-9780763617424","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}