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322 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 10, 2012

“Once upon a time …” If I could get away with it, that’s how I’d begin every essay I write. -Deza
We are the only family in the world, in my ken, that has a motto of our own! That motto is “We are a family on a journey to a place called Wonderful.”
I can’t wait until we get there!

"That’s from Burns, my favorite Scottish poet. We’ll be studying him later.
The poem is called ‘To a Mouse.’"
Mrs. Needham closed her eyes.
“The best-laid schemes
o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft a-gley
And leave us nought
but grief and pain
For promised joy.”
I didn’t understand a bit of it.
Mrs. Needham said, “Burns wrote this after he was plowing his field and accidentally destroyed a mouse’s nest. He tells the mouse that even though its home is ruined, it’s still better off than most humans because the mouse only looks at the present, while people look to the past and end up being sad, or look to the future and end up worrying. No matter how well a mouse, or a human being, plans for the future, those plans ‘gang aft a-gley.’ In other words, no matter how well you think something through, many times schemes simply will not work out. They will go astray.”
I live for books! One day I may even be a writer.
My dream is to read every book in the Gary Public Library and to be a teacher who is tough but fair





“A masterpiece, a work of true genius! What a tragedy, a true tragedy that it had to end!"
I turned the paper back over. Maybe I saw it wrong.
I looked again but it was the same.
One sign that I had toughened up was that instead of crying I thought of a little joke that Jimmie said he did whenever he didn’t like his grade.
“I turn the paper over, then, the same way people bang on a machine if it ain’t acting right, I smack my hand on the paper. Maybe if I bang it hard enough my grade will jump up a mark!”
Hearing a story from Mother is like you’re looking at the story from inside that boxcar. Things are swooshing by so fast that it wouldn’t pay to get too interested or curious about any of them. With Father it was like you were strolling along a road, holding his hand and stopping whenever something caught your fancy.
-Deza
Two little boys from Flint came in one day all by themselves. One of them reminded me of myself. He seemed scareder than his friend so I took him under my wing.
He was very nervous and shy, but you could see how sweet he was too.
-Deza
Hoping is such hard work. It tires you out and you never seem to get any kind of reward. Hoping feels like you’re a balloon that has a pinhole that slowly leaks air.
THIS IS ACTUALLY A 12 YEAR OLD GIRL TALKING.
You can tell you’re reading a really good book when you forget all about everything else and know you’ll die if you don’t get to at least the end of the chapter.
-Deza
I didn’t stop reading, though, I knew when I finished the book my hands would shake, my eyes would rim with tears and I’d say, “A masterpiece, a work of true genius! What a tragedy, a true tragedy that it had to end!
-Deza
Maybe it was just relief, maybe you can hold on to something bad for so long that when you put it down you don’t trust the feeling.
-Deza
I only did it because of that. And because I can trust my brother.
-Deza
I know I said you can’t read what a person or a house is like by the way they look, and that’s mostly true. But some people have kindness and gentleness wrapped around them like a blanket and there’s no doubting who they are. Jimmie’s Dr. Mitwally was that way. -Deza
I cried so hard the cabdriver said, “I told you I’d wait, miss, don’t cry.”
I said, “I’m not crying for that, I’m crying because I have the best brother in the world and I am so proud of him that I could bust.”
This place is the end of the road for so many dreams.
I put the lid back on the box. I would never read these letters. Never. They would be filled with nothing but pain.
-Deza
I looked at Mother. Her 1-1-1 lines were back. She gave me a sad smile.
Before I could say anything, Father cleared his throat and started reading the signs only he could see:
“He had heard that hope has wings
But never believed such lofty things .
It took time to set him straight ,
To learn hope was an open gate .
Try as he might, he didn’t see
That hope lived in his family .
He had learned that hope has wings …”
Father pulled his bony hand down and grabbed mine and Mother’s in both of his and finished,
“And now he’ll live by these joyous things.”