Dear Justyce by Nic Stone

Author:Nic Stone [Stone, Nic]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2020-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

P.S.:

I’m not gonna tell you who did it.

So don’t even ask.

Justyce McAllister has a lot on his mind during the almost thirteen-hour drive from New York back to Georgia.

Finals, obviously. He thinks he did pretty good on everything—though that last “short answer” question on the ethics exam was suspect. He knows he did better than Rosie the Racist Roommate on the Calc II final: dude tossed his paper at the professor as he left the classroom, and was still fuming about “that utter bullshit Calc II exam” as he packed to leave yesterday.

That’s another thing: while Jus certainly wasn’t sad to see Roosevelt Carothers’s back as he walked out of their shared space for the last time, it was weird to realize there’s a chance he’ll never see the dude again.

Oddly enough, Justyce has come to pity his roommate just the slightest bit. Yeah, Roosevelt comes from hella money and more or less has the whole world at his fingertips, but homie is the furthest thing from happy Justyce has ever seen. It’s occurred to Justyce how pointless it is to have access to basically everything when you’re a person who’s satisfied by nothing. The more time Jus has spent around the guy, the more he’s realized just how sad and pitiful dude’s life actually is.

Justyce’s life, though, is rich and full. He joined the BSAY (aka Black Student Alliance at Yale) and was one of eight freshmen selected to the newest class of the Yale Debate Association. He found his people, his grades are solid, and his long-distance relationship with the world’s finest Jewish girl has been working out just…well, fine.

It’s baffling, Jus thinks as the trees blur by near the state line between the two Carolinas. His first Yale year is over, and he made it through with very little personal turmoil to write home about.

And write home, Justyce did. Not to his mama—there was a phone for all that—but to Quan Banks.

Childhood playmate. (1…2…3…BLAST OFF!)

Fellow smart guy. (Though Quan didn’t seem to want anybody to know it.)

Cousin of Justyce’s slain best friend.

Rich and restless Roosevelt’s polar opposite.

On a hunch, Jus decided to check his PO box one last time before leaving campus, and he found a letter that must’ve gotten lost in the mail for a minute: it’d been postmarked more than two weeks prior.

And what was in that letter?

Still has Jus shook.

There’s movement behind him in the back seat. Then a groan. And an overly loud yawn. “Are we there yet?”

“Eww, why is it talking?” comes a groggy second voice from the passenger seat. This one makes Jus smile. And shake his head.

“Aww, SJ! I’m super thrilled to be with you too!” Jared Christensen puts a hand on Sarah-Jane Friedman’s shoulder—then quickly snatches it back when she thumps the crap out of it. “Oww! Jesus!”

“No touchy.”

“Ahh, come on, pal! Can’t we bury the hatchet? It’s not like you can get away from me now. I’m sure J-Man told you we’re rooming together next year—”

“A decision I’m still questioning.

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