Walter Dean Myers
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Zander and his friends, Kambui, LaShonda, and Bobbi start their own newspaper, The Cruiser, as a means for speaking out, keeping the peace, and expressing what they believe. When the school launches a mock Civil War, Zander and his friends are forced to consider the true meaning of democracy and what it costs to stand up for a cause. The result is nothing they could have expected, and everything they could have hoped for.
weather. A rainy day is good weather for an umbrella salesman but bad weather for a lifeguard. It’s a matter of perspective.” “Unless you’re a cloud,” I said. “Then your life is over.” “That’s … very creative,” my father said. “But you need to see what the people were thinking were their reasons for the war, too.” He always mumbled when he wasn’t sure of himself. In a way I liked that about him. And what I said about the cloud wasn’t creative. It was stupid and we both knew it but there we
just hope that nobody gets mad enough to start a fight.” When Kambui and I got to Da Vinci I could sense that something was already going on. Mr. Culpepper was sitting downstairs at the security desk with the security guard and they were looking around as if they were trying to figure it all out. I knew what had happened. When LaShonda had made her calls somebody had called somebody who had called somebody who had run it all down to Mr. Culpepper. I took the signs into my homeroom and took some
goalie on the soccer team and was supposed to be hard. He had been in one of my Language Arts classes in the seventh grade and he was pretty smart. But all the students at Da Vinci had the smart thing going on, so it wasn’t a big deal. School seemed to drag all afternoon and a lot of the kids were rapping about what Alvin had written. Ashley had things stirred up again. I knew I had to write something for The Cruiser. I had Media Studies so I could hang out in the library, and I tried working
Kambui, LaShonda, and even Bobbi were ready to start fighting and we weren’t even all that clear what the issues were. Mr. Siegfried had all the past reading assignments in a notebook on his desk and I went to his room to check it out. “You understand that the reading assignments are actually in books,” Mr. Siegfried said as I copied down some of the ones I had missed. “That’s the thing made out of paper with little numbers at the bottom of each page?” “Yes, sir.” Me, feeling stupid. In less
opportunity to prove you belong here. I see it as enough rope. If you get my drift.” “What do we have to do?” LaShonda asked. LaShonda was tall, dark, and slightly wild-looking. Fashion design was her thing. She could make an entire outfit for anyone overnight. When we had first met in the sixth grade, she had told me that her parents had abandoned her and her younger brother when they were kids and that she lived with him in a group home in the Bronx. “As you know, for our study of the Civil