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called The Color Purple . It’s about this ignorant black woman who gets the shit kicked out of her by her husband and writes all these letters to God. At first I couldn’t get into it because of how she talked—she’s mad stupid. But after a while it got kind of interesting. She had a hard-ass life, man. Now I keep trying to get back in my room so I can find out what’s gonna happen.
    I know that shit sounds mad nerdy, right? Me wanting to rush back to my room so I could read. But there ain’t nothing else to do in a group home, man. I ain’t trying to watch no TV ’cause that’s where everybody else is. And like I said, where everybody else is, is where I don’t wanna be. So I might as well read a damn book, you know?
    Later On:
    Demarcus and Reggie made fun of my ass for reading in the backyard. They said only a bike thief like me would read books in a group home. That’s what some of the guys call me now, by the way. The bike thief. Everybody in this place likes to brag about what got them thrown in here. The bigger the crime they claim, the more cred they got in the system. Tommy tells people he robbed a bank for fifty G back in Walnut Creek. Rene says he beat down some history teacher so bad he put dude in a coma. Reggie and Demarcus both say they’re in here for attempted murder and other gang-type shit. Jackson, before he got kicked out, said he got caught selling coke and weed to business dudes up in San Francisco—which I’m pretty sure is true. (Anybody who tries to smokedead leaves in the damn backyard, you know what I’m say-in’?) And everybody thinks it’s all funny to say I’m in here ’cause I stole a bike.
    “Yo, Miguel. What they catch you doin’, dawg? Swipin’ somebody’s ten-speed?”
    “Dude clipped a chain lock and rode off on some little girl’s banana seat, handlebar tassels all blowin’ in the wind.”
    “Yo, it probably had a little basket in the front so he had a place to put his panties.”
    “Ha ha! Pink with sparkles, yo.”
    “What, the bike or the panties?”
    “Both!”
    Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
    “Look, there he go, dawg. Runnin’ back to his room to go finger-bang hisself.”
    “The bike thief.”
    Trust me, man, pretty much every dude in here swears they’re some kind of comedian.
    Most times I don’t say anything back, though. Know why? ’cause on the DL sometimes I pretend it’s true myself. I stole a bike. Somebody’s ten-speed. I clipped a chain and the cops came along and caught me red-handed. That’s all I did.
    I’m a bike thief.
    Okay.
    Anyways, when Demarcus and Reggie laughed at me for reading a book in the backyard I flipped both their asses off and closed my book up. I moved past them toward the house and said: “Yo, at least I know how to read.”
    “Ain’t gotta read to pull no trigger, homey,” Demarcus said, faking like he was firing a gun at me.
    “Man,” I said, turning back around, “that’s such an inefficient use of space.”
    “Wha’chu mean?” Demarcus said.
    “Yo, you got the biggest-ass head in the house, right? And there ain’t nothin’ in it but damn carbon dioxide.”
    As I slid open the door and ducked back inside I could hear Reggie telling his boy: “Oh, shit, D. Miguel just took his little taquito out his pants and pissed all over you. Oh, damn!”
    But I don’t read my book outside anymore. It’s not worth the hassle. And I can just as easily sneak back in my room, where there’s peace and quiet.

June 24
    The Color Purple is pretty much the saddest book you could ever read, man. When I got done with the last couple pages I couldn’t believe how sad it was. But at the same time I liked it a whole lot. It’s probably my favorite book ever. It’s mad crazy how just writing letters makes the woman feel better about herself. And the last one’s to everybody, not just God, which is pretty cool. And also symbolic.
    Now I’m reading this book called Their Eyes Were Watching God . I’m