After Tupac & D Foster (Newbery Honor Book)

by Jacqueline Woodson

That’s what they called him. A Medical Miracle. Like he wasn’t even a real person. Like he was just something to be looked at and turned this way and that way and poked at.

It’s like his mama was a mess sometimes and he still loved her—people’s moms be all complicated, and it’s not like you got a bad mama or you got a good mama the way people be trying to judge and say.”

I read all those books and watched those educational shows and peeped the newspapers and people’s biographies and autobiographies because I was trying to see some tiny bit of myself up in those books. And even though I didn’t ever find it, I kept on looking.

Lately, I’d been feeling like I was standing outside watching everything and everybody. Wishing I could take the part of me that was over there and the part of me that was over here and push them together—make myself into one whole person like everybody else.

I hated that part of me that wanted D to turn that corner and disappear forever.

D was home to me and Neeka. D was Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies. She was sun and crazy loud laughter and warm rain.

Just a little kid really without any of the words I needed to explain all the things my mind was just beginning to think about.

“She got four boys and one of them already in jail. She just holding on tight to the rest of us.” Neeka made a face. “You think Tash deserves to be in jail?” Jayjones asked her. “No.” “You think Tupac deserved to be in jail?” “Of course not.” “Then multiply that and then multiply what you get and keep on multiplying.”

I didn’t understand love, the way it let you not see all that junk that people be showing right up front.

Maybe that was our Big Purpose—to figure ourselves on out.