ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

When my mother first told me about how they used to separate blood in Arkansas, it fit the narrative of what I knew already about the South in the early 1960s. I was disgusted but I wasn’t surprised. She and my dad had a lot of stories from their time when my dad was drafted and served. I don’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t thinking about race and racism and asking why our world is like this. I owe thanks to my mom for every time she pointed out the racist and sexist system in which we live. There’s no one out there like you, Mom. I’m glad I’m your daughter.

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This book is supposed to be uncomfortable. I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.

The man with the tattoo is real. He really did loan me a shovel. I really did have to wait until spring to see his arm. I don’t know what to say except: You can’t strip-search your potential friends, so pay attention.

If you read this book and want to know more about the move forward to an equitable society, find the real history of America. Find the truth about slavery, the Civil War. Then have a look in your social studies textbooks and find the missing pieces. (Hint: the systematic robbery from, and slaughter of Native Americans was not a “Clash of Cultures on the Prairie.”)

Pam—our time in Wichita changed my life. You probably don’t know that. But I know that. Thank you.

I owe enormous thanks to the team at Dutton—all of you—thank you. Andrew Karre, thank you for everything. Like, everything. Michael Bourret, I have the design for the M.B. action figure ready. It’s rad! Drew, Kirstin, Z.O.B., e., Carrie, Lizzy K., Kephart, good friends make life. G & L, thank you for understanding that your mom has a weird job and for being awesome daughters. Topher, you are so radical. 32 years, FTW.

Teachers, librarians, I think you’re the most important people alive. Booksellers, thank you for your support. Indies, I love you. Student readers: a few years ago, in the back of a book, I said that I’d flip off the adults in your lives who don’t think your opinions count. My fingers are tired. How do you put up with this crap?