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Zusatztext "A winning combination of interest and approachability. Debut author Alonge writes with nimbleness and insight! and Justin’s narration is leavened with shrewd! rueful observations and quick turns of phrase." ( Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books! *STARRED REVIEW*) “The brief novel is both a satisfying basketball story and an African-American boy's first-person account of finding his way in the world... debut author Alonge plays the game just right.” ( Kirkus Reviews) “A coming-of-age story with hard edges and heart.” ( Publisher’s Weekly) "This gritty series-starter follows African American fifteen-year-old Justin through Oakland! where he and friends learn to scheme and swindle... Accessible prose (with profanity) and fast-paced action make this suited to older reluctant readers." (Horn Book Guide Reviews) Informationen zum Autor LJ Alonge; cover illustrated by Raul Allen Klappentext An action-packed basketball series from author LJ Alonge set on the courts of Oakland, CA. Justin has a list of goals stashed under his mattress. Number 1 is "figure out life plans." Number 5 is "earn Zen Master rating in WoW." Nowhere on that list is "play the crew from Ghosttown," but that's the type of trouble that always seems to finds him. The debut title from LJ Alonge's new basketball series pulses with action on and off the court. With wit, humor, and honesty, Justin unfolds over one hot summer. Chapter 1: All-American Beef When Frank’s raging like he is right now, you just have to let him get it out of his system. If you tell him to cool it, you’ll only make things worse. We’re walking down Telegraph, and every time we stop at a corner, he tries to knock over a trash can. They’re the old steel ones that sound like a car wreck when they hit the sidewalk. Frank’s still waiting on his growth spurt; he needs a running start and hard kick to get the cans over. The one he knocks over now rolls halfway into the street, emptying its Styrofoam guts in the bike lane before settling in the gutter. “Nice one,” I say, hoping it’s the last. “Shut up,” he says. “You ain’t helping.” “Trash can didn’t do nothing to me.” He wipes his hands, the way people do when they’re proud of their work. “Feel better?” I ask. “Like a champ,” he says. The problem is money. We have none, we never have any, but today’s the last straw. We’ve been to a pizza place and a wing place and a sub place. They looked at both of my wrinkled dollars like they were covered in slime and pointed their snooty fingers over our heads, to the door. We left as Frank insulted their food, his stomach growling noisily the whole time. We justtried to eat and run at this Korean place, but they threw us out after the salads. I’ve still got the taste of ranch dressing stuck in my mouth. “You know what I’m gonna do with my first million?” Frank says, trying to work another can into the street. “Invest in the stock market.” “No. That’s some nerdy shit you would do. You’d probably throw it all away on books. No—what I would do is buy a restaurant. That way, I could have them deliver food to my house for free every day. Grilled cheese every day. Free.” A million dollars and he’d eat grilled cheese every day. That’s Frank in a nutshell. “Sounds good,” I tell him. “But what are we doing in the meantime?” He sighs. “Don’t know.” After some thought I say, “I’d probably build a couple schools,” thinking it’s the right thing to say, but by then Frank’s lost interest. So we’re standing on the corner, sulking, when a group of kids walks past us, laughing, pushing, their hands stuffed into the bottom of a greasy paper bag. “Where’d y’all get that?” Frank asks. “Up the street,” one of the kids says. There’s a mush of fries in the back of his mouth. “...
