“Reminiscent of Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye .” — The New York Times “One of the best books I have ever read…will live in the hearts of readers for the rest of their lives.” —Colby Sharp, founder of Nerdy Book Club “An emotional, painful, yet still hopeful adolescent journey…one that needed telling.” — Kirkus Reviews (starred review) “I really loved this.” —Sharon M. Draper, author of the New York Times bestseller Out of My Mind This deeply sensitive and “compelling” ( BCCB ) debut novel tells the story of a thirteen-year-old who must overcome internalized racism and a verbally abusive family to finally learn to love herself. There are ninety-six reasons why thirteen-year-old Genesis dislikes herself. She knows the exact number because she keeps a list: -Because her family is always being put out of their house. -Because her dad has a gambling problem. And maybe a drinking problem too. -Because Genesis knows this is all her fault. -Because she wasn’t born looking like Mama. -Because she is too black. Genesis is determined to fix her family, and she’s willing to try anything to do so…even if it means harming herself in the process. But when Genesis starts to find a thing or two she actually likes about herself, she discovers that changing her own attitude is the first step in helping change others. Alicia D. Williams is the author of Mid-Air , which was longlisted for the National Book Award; Genesis Begins Again , which received Newbery and Kirkus Prize honors, was a William C. Morris Award finalist, and for which she won the Coretta Scott King - John Steptoe Award for New Talent; and picture books Jump at the Sun , Nani and the Lion , and The Talk , which was also a Coretta Scott King Honor book. An oral storyteller in the African American tradition, she lives in Charlotte, North Carolina. Chapter One one Nobody could tell me that today wasn’t gon’ be my day. Even though I couldn’t determine the correct term of equality in math, shanked the nearly airless volleyball in PE, and truly didn’t care to discuss the effects of the Civil War in social studies, I was unshook, ’cause today my girls finally agreed to hang out with me—at my house! And with Regina to my right cracking jokes, Fatima and Tasha and Angela to my left laughing insanely loud, shoot, every eye is on us. Boys jockin’ us—well, actually jockin’ them . Regardless, they’re grinning like we’re all a bag of M&M’s. I’m so amped that I actually yell this to the guys. And don’t you know—Regina uses my line as a jump off, cracking, “And y’all ain’t ’bout to taste none of us either!” We all slap hands and keep it moving. Regina’s going on about her plans for us to watch music videos, ’cause Tasha’s crushing on some new hot singer. And in my mind, we’re all sitting on the couch debating which rapper is the finest. Then, we’ll drink Sprite and eat the chips that Mama went out to buy especially for us. But as soon as we round the corner of my block, my heart skips like a scratched CD. Not again. Please, not again. But yes, again. All our furniture sits in the front yard—but this time it’s laid out exactly like it had been inside the house, as if the movers are playing a cruel joke. Our glass living room table sits in front of the couch with a cocktail table on each side. The kitchen chairs are properly placed with the dining table. Even our beds are still made with the blankets and pillows. “This your house?” Regina says, flicking her long braids. “Uh, no.” Dad. Didn’t he know today was epic for me? “I live over there,” I say, pointing to a house where the metal bars on the security door swirl in an elegant design. “She lying,” Fatima butts in. “I saw her go in this one the other day.” “This one” is a small brick house with peeling green trim, chipped up cement steps, and straight metal bars on the door and windows like a prison. Now I understand what Grandma means when she says, “There’s always one.” Regina snorts, “Hey, y’all, Genesis gotta pee outside!” Then she throws back her head and bursts out laughing. The other three start laughing too. A bunch of copycats. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. They’re whispering and pointing, and my family’s STUFF IS SITTING IN THE YARD! “You know what?” I finally come up with. “I forgot, my mama said we were getting new furniture.” Angela raises an eyebrow. High. “Not with that big ol’ metal thing covering the doorknob, you ain’t.” They all swivel their heads at the same time and mutter, “Danggggg.” “Nobody’s getting through that door besides the landlord,” Angela jabs. Regina turns to me, smirking. “Just admit your folks are bums.” I search their faces, hoping at least one of them will stick up for me. But no one, not even Tasha—whose mama’s car was repossessed in the middle of the night just the other week!—says a peep. Yes, I know a repossessed car ain’t as serious as finding your stuff spread out in the yard for everybody to see, b
