[醉染正版]拼凑自我 Piecing Me Together 英文原版小说 青少年读物 2018年纽伯瑞银奖小说 儿童文

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书名：Piecing Me Together拼凑自我
难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数680L
作者：Renée Watson
出版社名称：Bloomsbury Children's Books
出版时间：2018
语种：英文
ISBN：9781408897348
商品尺寸：19.8 x 1.8 x 13.1 cm
包装：平装
页数：272 （以实物为准）
Piecing Me Together《拼凑自我》是美国作家Renée Watson所著的儿童小说。该书荣获2018年纽伯瑞儿童文学奖银奖（Newbery Honor Book）、科雷塔·史考特·金金牌奖（Coretta Scott King Author Award）、乔塞特·法兰克文学奖（Josette Frank Award）等多项大奖。

美国青春文学作家、《无比美妙的痛苦》（《星运里的错》）作者John Green评价称：Important and deeply moving。

2018 Newbery Honor Book and Coretta Scott King Author Award Winner
'Important and deeply moving' JOHN GREEN
'Timely and timeless' JACQUELINE WOODSON
NPR's Best Books of 2017
A 2017 New York Public Library Best Teen Book of the Year
Chicago Public Library's Best Books of 2017
A School Library Journal Best Book of 2017
Kirkus Reviews' Best Teen Books of 2017
2018 Josette Frank Award Winner
这是一部关于对种族、阶层和性别进行思考的小说。主人公Jade是个黑人小女孩，她渴望成功，所以觉得应该离开自己居住的贫穷社区。她妈妈告诉她，要好好抓住每个机会，并且她也确实如此在做。她每天会乘坐公交车离开她的朋友去一个私校上学。在那里，她觉得自己是个局外人，但确实会充满机会……

Jade is a girl striving for success in a world that seems like it's trying to break her.
She knows she needs to take every opportunity that comes her way. And she has: every day Jade rides the bus away from her friends to a private school where she feels like an outsider, but where she has plenty of opportunities.
But some opportunities Jade could do without, like the mentor programme for 'at-risk' girls. Just because her mentor is black doesn't mean she understands where Jade is coming from. Why is Jade always seen as someone to fix? But with a college scholarship promised at the end of it, how can Jade say no?
Jade feels like her life is made up of hundreds of conflicting pieces. Will it ever fit together? Will she ever find her place in the world? More than anything, Jade just wants the opportunity to be real, to make a difference.

1

español

Spanish language

I am learning to speak.

To give myself a way out. A way in.

2

tener éxito

to succeed

When I learned the Spanish word for succeed, I thought it was kind of ironic that the word exit is embedded in it. Like the universe was telling me that in order for me to make something of this life, I'd have to leave home, my neighborhood, my friends.

And maybe I've already started. For the past two years I've attended St. Francis High School on the other side of town, away from everything and everyone I love. Tomorrow is the first day of junior year, and you'd think it was my first day as a freshman, the way my stomach is turning. I don't think I'll ever get used to being at St. Francis while the rest of my friends are at Northside. I begged Mom to let me go to my neighborhood high school, but she just kept telling me, "Jade, honey, this is a good opportunity." One I couldn't pass up. It's the best private school in Portland, which means it's mostly white, which means it's expensive. I didn't want to get my hopes up. What was the point of applying if, once I got accepted, Mom wouldn't be able to afford for me to go?

But Mom had done her research. She knew St. Francis offered financial aid. So I applied, and once I got accepted, I received a full scholarship, so I kind of had to go.

So here I am, trying to pick out something to wear that doesn't look like I'm trying too hard to impress or that I don't care about how I look. St. Francis doesn't have uniforms, and even though everyone says it doesn't matter how you look on the outside, it does. Especially at St. Francis. I bought clothes with the money I made from working as a tutor at the rec center over the summer. I offered Mom some of the money I earned, to help with the bills or at least the groceries, but she wasn't having any of that. She told me to spend it on my school clothes and supplies. I saved some of it, though. Just in case.

Mom comes into my room without knocking, like always. "I won't be here tomorrow morning when you leave for school," she says. She seems sad about this, but I don't think it's a big deal. "You won't see much of me this week. I'm working extra hours."

Mom used to work as a housekeeper at Emanuel Hospital, but she got fired because she was caught stealing supplies. She sometimes brought home blankets and the small lotions that are given to patients. Snacks, too, like saltine crackers, juice boxes. Then one of her coworkers reported her. Now Mom works for her friend's mother, Ms. Louise, a rich old lady who can't do much for herself. Mom makes Ms. Louise breakfast, lunch, and dinner, gives her baths, and takes her to doctors' appointments. She cleans up the accidents Ms. Louise sometimes has when she can't make it to the bathroom. Ms. Louise's daughter comes at night, but sometimes she has a business trip to go on, so Mom stays.

I know Mom isn't here just to tell me her schedule for the week, because it's posted on the fridge. That's how we communicate. We write our schedules on the dry-erase board and use it to let each other know what we're up to. I close my closet, turn around, look at her, and wait. I know what's coming. Every year since I started at St. Francis, Mom comes to my room the night before school and starts to give me the Talk. Tonight she's taking a while to get to it, but I know it's coming. She asks questions she already knows the answers to—have I registered to take the SATs yet, and am I still going to tutor at the rec, now that school has started?—and then she says, "Jade, are you going to make some friends this year?"