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Zusatztext * “Reynolds…addresses much more—race and class divisions in New York! taking ownership of one’s actions! and standing up for what’s right—without ever sounding preachy. Reynolds also upends tired stereotypes…while leaving in enough sass and grit to keep the story believable. Snappy descriptions…and a hard-won ending round out a funny and rewarding read.” – Publishers Weekly ! starred review Informationen zum Autor Jason Reynolds Klappentext Includes excerpt from "The boy in the black suit." Leseprobe When I Was The Greatest 1 “Okay, I got one. Would you rather live every day for the rest of your life with stinky breath, or lick the sidewalk for five minutes?” Noodles asked. He turned and looked at me with a huge grin on his face because he knew this was a tough one. “It depends. Does gum or mints work?” “Nope. Just shit breath, forever!” He busted out laughing. I thought for a second. “Well, if I licked the ground, I mean, that might be the grossest thing I could ever do, but when the five minutes was up, I could just clean my mouth out.” In my head I was going back and forth between the two options. “But if I got bad breath, forever, then I might not ever be able to kiss the ladies. So, I guess I gotta go with licking the ground, man.” Just saying it made me queasy. “Freakin’ disgusting,” Needles said, frowning, looking out at the sidewalk. “But I would probably do the same thing.” A sick black SUV came flying down the block. The stereo was blasting, but the music was all drowned out by the loud rattle of the bass, bumping, shaking the entire back of the truck. “Aight, aight, I got another one,” Noodles said as the truck passed. He shook his soda can to see if anything was left in it. “Would you rather trade your little sister for a million bucks, or for a big brother, if that big brother was Jay-Z?” “Easy. Neither,” I said, plain. “Come on, man, you gotta pick one.” “Nope. I wouldn’t trade her.” Another car came cruising down the street. This time, a busted-up gray hooptie with music blasting just as loud as the fresh SUV’s. “So you tellin’ me, you wouldn’t trade Jazz for a million bucks?” “Nope.” “You wouldn’t wanna be Jay-Z’s lil brother?” Noodles looked at me with a side eye like I was lying. “Of course, but I wouldn’t trade Jazz for it!” I said, now looking at him crazy. “She’s my sister, man, and I don’t know how you and your brother roll, but for me, family is family, no matter what.” • • • Family is family. You can’t pick them, and you sure as hell can’t give them back. I’ve heard it a zillion times because it’s my mom’s favorite thing to say whenever she’s pissed off at me or my little sister, Jazz. It usually comes after she yells at us about something we were supposed to do but didn’t. And with my mom, yelling ain’t just yelling. She gives it everything she’s got, and I swear it feels like her words come down heavy and hard, beating on us just as bad as a leather strap. She’s never spanked us, but she always threatens to, and trust me, that’s just as bad. It happens the same every time. The shout, then the whole thing about family being family, and how you can’t pick them or give them back. Every now and then I wonder if she would give us back, if she could. Maybe trade Jazz and me in for a little dog, or an everlasting gift card for Macy’s, or something. I doubt she’d do it, but I think about that sometimes. Me and Jazz always joke about how we didn’t get to choose either. Sometimes we say if we had a choice, we would...
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*"Reynolds's debut oozes with authenticity... The main and secondary characters are well developed; their sweetness, sassiness, and even stupidity are endearing and relatable....Reynolds is an author to watch." - School Library Journal, Starred Review
