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First published in the United States of America by HarperCollins Publishers in 2020
Published simultanously in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2020
Published in this ebook edition in 2020
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
HarperCollins Publishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Copyright © Ibi Zoboi and Yusef Salaam 2020
Illustrations copyright © Omar T. Pasha 2020 (here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here)
Cover art by Temi Coker, portrait by Alexis Franklin, photos by Merla, Nickita Vanat, Manekina Serafima, heliopix, COLOA Studio, and wacomka / Shutterstock
Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Cover design, lettering and typography by Jenna Stempel-Lobell
All rights reserved.
Ibi Zoboi and Yusef Salaam assert the moral rights to be identified as the authors of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008422141
Ebook Edition © September 2020 ISBN: 9780008422158
Version: 2020-08-19
For Joseph, and the many lives
you’ve touched with your art, including mine
—I. Z.
For my mother, Sharonne Salaam, my super shero
—Y. S.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Part I
Birth
Old Soul
Courtroom
Character Witness
Gray Suit
Anger Management
White Space
White Space II
The Thinker
Two Mouths
Blank Page
Black Ink
Face Painting
Movie Star
Fan Club
Black Mona Lisa
Picasso Face
Cacophony
The Last Judgment
Counting Game
Knockout Game
Ball Game
Counting Game II
The Scream
The Scream II
Refrain
Blind Justice
Thoughts & Prayers
Slave Ship
Family Portrait
The Watch
Ocean
Clone
Conversations with God
African American
Coming to America
The Entombment
Inferno
Processed
Rights
Books
Booked
Money
New ID
DNA
Middle Passage
Coming to America II
Hope
Part II
America
Auction Block
Lights Out
God, The Artist
Lights On
Wallflower
Sunrise
Pipeline
Conversations with God II
Conversations with God III
Pipeline II
Schooled
Schooled II
Schooled III
Schooled IV
Schooled V
Free Time
Blank Canvas
Lights Out
Cubism
Conversations with God IV
Wallflower II
Conversations with God V
The Open Window
Conversations with God VI
The Bridge in the Rain
Microphone
Hype Man
Conversations with God VII
Meditation
Lights Out
Guernica
Dust
Family Portrait II
Expressionism
Conversations with God VIII
White Space III
Lights Out
The Persistence of Memory
Blind Justice II
Lights On
Schooled VI
Pipeline III
Brotherhood
Brotherhood II
Cubism II
Art School
The Entombment II
Part III
Hope II
Hope III
Lost-and-Found
Booked II
Family Portrait III
Blank Page II
Guernica II
Lockdown
The Entombment III
Saint Peter in Prison
Art School II
Harmony
African American II
Butterflies
DNA II
Conversations with God IX
Lights Out
Blank Canvas II
Lights On
Solitary: The Box
Surrealism
Lights On
Brotherhood III
Brotherhood IV
Brotherhood V
Conversations with God X
Butterflies II
Art School III
Brotherhood VI
Art School IV
American Graffiti
Brotherhood VII
Young Basquiat
The Persistence of Memory II
Meditation II
Brotherhood VIII
American Graffiti II
Young Basquiat II
Father Figure
Brotherhood IX
Wallflower III
Hope IV
Butterflies III
Young Basquiat III
Hope V
A Note from the Authors
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Books by Ibi Zoboi
About the Publisher
Part I
Birth
Umi gave birth to me
at home
She has a video
and every birthday
she makes me watch
When I was little
I would run away
Umi would laugh and say
Come here, boy
You gotta remember
where you came from!
She’d chase me around
that small apartment
and I’d cover my eyes and
pretend to be gagging
That’s nasty, Mama, I’d say
That’s life, Amal
You have to respect it
she’d say
Umi was in this inflatable pool
in the middle of our living room
with the midwife next to her
My father was holding the camera
She was taking deep fire breaths
eyes closed tight, not even screaming
almost praying
Then the midwife plunged
both her hands into the pool
And then
there I was rising out of water
Squirming little brown thing
barely crying
big eyes wide
as if I’d already done this before
as if I’d already been here before
Umi says
I was born with an
old, old soul
Old Soul
The thing about being born
with an old soul
is that
an old soul can’t tell you
all the things you weren’t supposed to do
all the things that went wrong
all the things that will make it right again
The thing about having an old soul
is that
no one can see that it’s there
hunched over with wrinkly brown skin
thick gray hair, deep cloudy eyes
that have already seen the past, present, and future
all balled up into a small universe
right here, right now
in this courtroom
Courtroom
I know the courtroom ain’t
the set of a music video, ain’t
Coachella or the BET Awards, ain’t
MTV, VH1, or the Grammys
But still
there’s an audience
of fans, experts, and judges
Eyes watching through filtered screens
seeing every lie, reading every made-up word
like a black hoodie counts as a mask
like some shit I do with my fingers
counts as gang signs
like a few fights counts as uncontrollable rage
like failing three classes
counts as being dumb as fuck
like everything that I am, that I’ve ever been
counts as being
guilty
Character Witness
We’re in the courtroom
to hear the jury’s verdict
after only a few hours of
deliberation
and Ms. Rinaldi, my art teacher
was a character witness
It was the first time
she saw me
in a suit and tie
like the one I was supposed to wear
to the art opening at the museum
Or the one I was supposed to wear
to my first solo show in the school’s gym
The suit I was supposed to wear
to prom, to my cousin’s graduation
to mosque with Umi
is the suit I wear to my first trial
It’s as if this event in my life
was something that was
supposed to happen all along
Gray Suit
Umi told me to wear a gray suit
becauseoptics
But that gray didn’t make me any less black
My white lawyer didn’t make me any less black
And words can paint black-and-white pictures, too
Maybe ideas have their own eyes
separating black from white as if the world
is some old, old TV show
Maybe ideas segregate like in the days of
Dr. King, and no matter how many marches
or Twitter hashtags or Justice for So-and-So
our mind’s eyes and our eyes’ minds
see the world as they want to
Everything already illustrated
in black and white
Anger Management
Did you ever see Amal get angry?
the prosecutor asked Ms. Rinaldi
It’s the most important question in my trial
Am I angryAm I violentAm I—
Objection, Clyde said
Sustained, the judge said
Did Amal ever display emotions that were—
Yes, Ms. Rinaldi said
That’s why I work so hard with Amal
To channel his anger into his art
And I know, I know
that right then and there
she didn’t even have to look my way
because she won’t see me
She’s never seen me
She only sees my paintings and drawings
as if me and what I create
are two different worlds
There’s a stone in my throat
and a brick on my chest
White Space
In art class
Ms. Rinaldi had said that
the white space on the page
is also part of our illustration
The white space on the page
also tells a story, is part of the big picture
I didn’t get what she was saying at first
Then she showed us this painting
An optical illusion, she called it
There was a white face
with eyes, a nose, and a mouth
against a black background
But when I looked sideways
or backward or upside down
there was a black face with
eyes, nose, and a mouth
against a white background
And it was wild how my eyes
played tricks on me like that
but it was my mind that
made sense of it all
It’s wild how our minds
can play tricks on us like that
White Space II
There were more witnesses
from East Hills
than from my side of the hood
of the tracks
of the border
of that invisible line
we weren’t supposed to cross
The couple who just moved in with the baby
who said
We tried so hard to build community
The kindergarten teacher who said
I’ve always been good to those
neighborhood kids
And the college kid who
recorded the whole thing
and said
I knew something was gonna go down
so I just picked up my phone
To call the police? Clyde asked
Nah, for social, the kid said
It was like a mob
an ambush
So I went live
And no, I’ve never seen them before
Then when Clyde asked
How long have you been in the neighborhood?
Just the weekend, visiting friends
the college kid said
I didn’t think it would blow up like this
That video made you pretty famous, huh?
The college kid laughed
and all I wanted to do was
drag him off that witness stand
But that would’ve looked bad
Really bad
The Thinker
I replay everybody’s testimonies
in my head
like a song on loop
Their words and what they thought
to be their truth
were like a scalpel
shaping me into
the monster
they want me to be
I’m supposed to be
like a statue
in this courtroom
Chiseled bronze
perfectly frozen in time
like some god
stripped of his power
or a fallen angel
cast into this hell
And every lie
they say about me
every stone
they throw at me
is supposed to bounce off
like tiny pellets
Here I have to be bulletproof
Two Mouths
What happens if I’m found guilty? I ask Clyde
before the deliberation
He taps his pen on his yellow notepad
as if beating out the rhythm to some rhyme
some party anthem for whenfor when
he wins this case
And I want so bad
to grab that pen and notepad
and draw me a victory
a whole scene with dancing shapes
and hard lines turned to joy
That’s not going to happen, he says
Umi said English requires two mouths to speak
and four ears to understand
Clyde spoke with two mouths
One for me and one for the court
Blank Page
Mr. Clyde Richter, my defense attorney
is supposed to save my life
is supposed to create reasonable doubt
is supposed to let that judge and jury know
the truth
But he is part of the white space
on my page
where the charcoal and ink
only graze the edges of his world
of Ms. Rinaldi’s world
of Jeremy Mathis’s world
the white boy whose entire life
is a whole blank page of
this sketchbook
where this story begins
Black Ink
So
I am ink
He is paper
I am pencil
He is notebook
I am text
He is screen
I am paint
He is canvas
I am man
He is boy
I am criminal
He is victim
I am alive
He is almost dead
I am black
He is white
Face Painting
Ms. Rinaldi left the courtroom
after the prosecutor showed pictures
of Jeremy Mathis’s face after the fight
In school, she said I had talent, a gift
She said my lines were soft
my subjects were tender
She said I had a lot of beauty
inside me waiting to bloom
My art teacher of all people should know
I could never make a painting
with the colors of mangled flesh
of broken bone, of bruised skin
out of someone’s face
Movie Star
The people who know me
really know me
are not the ones
the judge and jury want to hear from
It’s as if they wanted to hear a story about
some other kid
It’s as if they wanted to watch a movie about
some other kid
The prosecutor, with his fancy words
his hard evidence
wrote the script, directed the scene
cast just the right actor
to play this kid from the hood
who beat up a white kid really bad
so bad
that he can’t wake up
to tell the truth
Fan Club
And the truth is
nothing else matters except this moment
right now
when I get to turn around to
look into Umi’s eyes
to remind herto remind me
that she believes me
And I want Grandma to know that
I’m goodI’m good
on the inside
Uncle Rashon knew what went down
even before he saw the news
even before he saw the video
even before he saw the picture of Jeremy Mathis’s face
He tried to tell meHe tried to tell me
not to go over to East Hills
My cousins Shay and Dionne tell me
even without saying a word
We got your back, ’MatWe got your back
The other faces are
from the blockfrom the hood
from my schoolfrom my past
I don’t know if they’re watching
this movie with the boy who is playing me
or the real me in this real life
But still, they’re hereThey’re here
My best friend Lucas
ghosted me
ever since this whole shit went down
Black Mona Lisa
My umi’s face is
the most beautiful in the world
Skin
like sleeping in on snow days
beneath thick blankets
black
Smile
like an eighty-degree
summer day in April
bright
Eyes
like long subway rides
looking out windows watching
nothing and everything go by in the dark
and letting my thoughts swim
deep
Picasso Face
My face must be
the ugliest in the world
MonsterPredatorAnimal
You walk on two legs, not four, Umi said
And since that night
I haven’t heard anyone call me boy like she does
call me little man
Alwaysman
born full-grown, full-bearded
full of a life not even lived yet
as if
I’ve never toddled along the sofa
like in the videos on Umi’s phone
I’ve never eaten mashed-up food and
spit up and babbled with a mouth full of pink gums
I’ve never cried for a teddy bear or
laughed at Elmo on Sesame Street
I’ve never worn mismatched shoes
and splashed in a puddle
I’ve never hidden from thunder and fireworks
and angry shouts and gunshots and sirens
as if
I’ve never been afraid of monsters and
predators and animals and
my own face
Cacophony
The judge takes his seat
on the bench and lets us know
that the jury has reached a verdict
And I can hear everyone behind me
shifting in their seats
whispering
mumbling
crying
as if they know
They already know
Order! the judge shouts
and bangs his gavel
But all I hear is chaos
All I know is chaos
The disorder of things, places
and people that have no end
no aim, no destiny, no Allah
Godless like hell
Umi tells me to pray, head bowed
submitting to that higher power who
holds the puppet strings
And sometimes I feel like a toy soldier
and I want to beat my chest
to check my bulletproof vest
in this made-up war
like some rap battle
with no mic, no beat, no sound
It’s so quiet now
I hold my own hands
My leg is shaking
My heart is a drum
My body—
I wish I could float into the air
I wish I could disappear