Chapter 24: Bright Stars, Dark FlowersI HOPE NOBODY ELSE will read this. Dr. Lutkin, my shrink, says I don’t have to show this notebook to anybody, not even him, unless I want to. Writing is supposed to help me figure out how I feel.
How I’m feeling. . . That’s complicated.
This might sound kinda wack, but sometimes I think the real reason I wanted to live in my grandma’s neighborhood is that I thought it would be like a rap video. I thought there would be rap battles and DJ contests and barbecues every day. There was so much I didn’t know. Everything was so different from where I grew up, in Beverly in a house on a hill on Longwood Drive. When I was little I used to visit Grandma’s house all the time, but the neighborhood has changed a lot. My mother blames it on c***k dealer
