The Washington Post
Beneath a Meth Moonby Jacqueline Woodson
Laurel Daneau has moved on to a new life, in a new town, but inside she's still reeling from the loss of her beloved mother and grandmother after Hurricane Katrina washed away their home. Laurel's new life is going well, with a new best friend, a place on the cheerleading squad and T-Boom, co-captain of the basketball team, for a boyfriend. Yet Laurel is haunted by… See more details below
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Laurel Daneau has moved on to a new life, in a new town, but inside she's still reeling from the loss of her beloved mother and grandmother after Hurricane Katrina washed away their home. Laurel's new life is going well, with a new best friend, a place on the cheerleading squad and T-Boom, co-captain of the basketball team, for a boyfriend. Yet Laurel is haunted by voices and memories from her past.
When T-Boom introduces Laurel to meth, she immediately falls under its spell, loving the way it erases, even if only briefly, her past. But as she becomes alienated from her friends and family, she becomes a shell of her former self, and longs to be whole again. With help from an artist named Moses and her friend Kaylee, she's able to begin to rewrite her story and start to move on from her addiction.
Incorporating Laurel's bittersweet memories of life before and during the hurricane, this is a stunning novel by one of our finest writers. Jacqueline Woodson's haunting - but ultimately hopeful - story is beautifully told and one readers will not want to miss.
The Washington Post
"As accurate as it is heartbreaking; readers will be deeply moved . . . they'll sympathize with [Laurel's] desire to find some way to feel better. . . . Readers looking to understand the attraction of a destructive substance will get a glimmer of understanding." — The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books
"Will not disappoint readers. . . . Ends on a hopeful note: perhaps it is possible to write pain 'into the past and leave some of it there,' and reimagine a future." — Booklist
Read an Excerpt
I tried to run but the hurting was back, and the cold was like a wall pushing against me.
I stopped—my breath coming heavy—and turned, ready to tell M’Lady and Mama to go to Jackson. It’s dry in Jackson.
Laurel, is that you?
Slowly, Mama faded, and M’Lady turned into my friend Kaylee, shivering on her front porch. I looked around—how had I gotten on her street when Donnersville was in the other direction?
We stared at each other a long time. I could tell she was looking me over, taking in my ragged coat and bloody lips.
Laurel, she said, look at you. Look at yourself! Who did you turn into?!
ALSO BY JACQUELINE WOODSON
Last Summer with Maizon
The Dear One
Maizon at Blue Hill
Between Madison and Palmetto
I Hadn’t Meant to Tell You This
From the Notebooks of Melanin Sun
The House You Pass on the Way
If You Come Softly
After Tupac and D Foster
Brown Girl Dreaming
Caught in the grip
Also By Jacqueline Woodson
pass christian, mississippi
this storm coming
daddy: part one
water rising up
daddy: part two
making the moon
stop, look and listen
beneath a meth moon
the second coming of moses
lord, do remember me
moses and rosalie
another second chance
elegy for mama and m’lady
Jacqueline Woodson Discusses Beneath a Meth Moon
Questions for Discussion
An Excerpt from Brown Girl Dreaming
An Excerpt from If You Come Softly
Before I traveled my road, I was my road . . . —Antonio Porchia
This road . . .
IT’S ALMOST WINTER AGAIN and the cold moves through this town like water washing over us. My coat is a gift from my father, white and filled with feathers. My hair is healthy again and the wind whips the white-blond strands of it over my face and into my eyes so that from far away, I must look like some pale ghost standing at the corner of Holland and Ankeny, right where the railroad track moves through Galilee, then on to bigger towns. My hands pressing the small black notebook to my chest, my head back, eyes closed against the wind and early falling snow. This is me now. This is me on this new road . . . Later, I’ll write this down—how early the snow came, how surprising, how the flakes drifted white and perfect around me. I’ll write, “The moon was finally out of me, and maybe because of this, everything felt new and clean and good . . .”
In the distance, I hear a train whistle blowing—coming from far off. But fast-moving . . . toward me.
On days like this, with so much beauty circling me, it’s hard not to feel a hundred years old. Hard not to let the past come raining down. Hard not to think about not deserving this kind of beauty, this kind of cold. This . . . this clarity. But Moses and Kaylee keep telling me that fifteen is just another beginning, like the poet with the two roads and his own choice about which one he’d be taking. You got a whole lot of roads, Kaylee says to me. And some days, I believe her. As I walk down this one . . . I believe her.
Kaylee says, Write an elegy to the past . . . and move on. She says it’s all about moving on. I’ve read about it, Laurel. You write all the time. You can do this.
So I’ll begin it this way—It’s almost winter again . . . Soon, Moses will join me here. He’ll walk along these tracks with his bag slapping against the side of him. He’ll see me in my white coat and smile. He’ll see me here—living. Something neither one of us can hardly believe.
Together we’ll sit by the edge of the tracks and talk real quiet about moving forward—over that crazy year. I’ll put my head on his shoulder and tell him again about my life in Pass Christian, the house we lived in there, my mama, about Jesse Jr. being born fast in the night. About M’lady.
And Moses, my brother-friend . . . Moses, my anchor and my shore, will lift the collar of my coat higher up around my ears, pull my hat from my pocket and make me put it on.
I’m painting over those snowflakes, Moses will say. One by one, they’re slowly fading out of here.
As I begin this story, I believe him.
THE FIRST TIME MOSES dropped a dollar in my cup, I didn’t even know his name. I looked up at him, glad for the dollar. Maybe I said thanks, but it’s blurry sometimes, my memory is. One moment clear as water, then another moment, and it’s like somebody’s erasing bits and pieces of it.
What I’m seeing as I write this down are the shadows, brown and black and some kind of blue that maybe was the jacket he was wearing, a can of spray paint in one hand, a brush in his other. Maybe it was night. Maybe I asked him his name, because he said, I’m Moses. And I said, Then this must be the promised land. The Bible comes to me that way—quick and sharp like a pain. I had just turned fifteen, and with it came a new way of talking and smiling to get what I wanted. Maybe I was thinking I could get another two dollars out of his pockets.
But Moses just looked at me like he was looking at someone familiar and strange at the same time. Most kids just passed me by, laughing, sometimes throwing whatever they’re carrying at me—half a candy bar, an empty potato chip bag, a soda can. But Moses stopped, looked at me, put that dollar in my cup, said, Did you know Ben? I’m painting that wall for his mom.
Maybe I knew right then he was different.
No, I said. I don’t know anybody by that name.
She wants it to say “Ben, 1995–2009. We’ll always wonder about the man you could’ve been,” Moses said. Then she wants me to put “We love you forever” at the bottom. In small letters. Like she’s whispering it to him. That’s what she said—“Like I’m whispering it.”
You can hardly see it with the sun almost down. Moses pointed at the wall. Beauty wasted, he said. Look at him.
Maybe I squinted across where the painting was getting started. Maybe I saw a pale outline—the beginning of the ending of Ben. It didn’t mean anything to me, though.
I asked Moses if he played ball, because he looked real tall standing there, and I figured he might have seen me cheering. I was hard to miss on the court. At least that’s what people said, but I saw the way his smile went away.
We don’t all play ball, he said.
I would have asked him about this we all thing. But other people started passing by, and I needed to make some money. You stay blessed, Moses, I said, by way of saying “good-bye, now,” but trying not to be rude because he had dollars he was sharing with strangers.
Maybe I smiled, because he looked at me again for a quick second, and I think that was because of where T-Boom chipped my tooth when we were still together. T-Boom’s got the whole tooth missing, and after we knocked out each other’s teeth, I guess we figured there wasn’t anything left to do, so we stopped going out. But of course I still saw him—sometimes two or three times a day.
Moses had his girl with him. She looked down at me like I didn’t even have a right to be living, but I just gave the look right back to her. She took her phone out of her pocket and dialed a number, said Hey, baby, then turned away from us, talking real quiet into it.
You must have some people somewhere, Moses said.
I pulled my top lip down over the chipped tooth, looked away from him and shook my head. I hadn’t felt any shame about that tooth before and didn’t know why I was feeling it now.
My people are gone.
Gone dead, Moses asked, or gone gone?
He nodded, squinting at me like he was trying to put some puzzle together.
The girl put the phone in her bag and turned back around, pulling at his arm, saying they were gonna be late. She talked like she’d been schooled in the real right way to say things: “We’re. Going. To. Be. Late. Moses.”
I’ll be back around to work on that wall tomorrow, he said to me, then let his girl pull him out of my line of vision.
And I guess I forgot about him, because it was getting real cold and I was thinking about getting to the House before T-Boom went home to his own mama and ate her dinner, then watched some of his mama’s TV and went to bed in the room he grew up in. And once the House closed, you couldn’t go looking for T-Boom at his mama’s because she didn’t know anything about where his money was coming from, so I let myself shiver until a few more quarters and dollars fell into my hat and then I put my sign away in my bag, blew my nose on my bandanna and packed up shop for the night. I got up and shook my legs to get the blood running back through them. The fuzz went away from my mind. A lady and man were walking toward me, and for a quick minute I smiled, thinking, Here comes my daddy. Coming to take me home. But then the man just patted his pockets and gave me one of those I’m sorry looks. The woman didn’t look at me at all. I stood there watching them move quick past where I was standing. Something got hard and heavy inside of me, and I knew real deep that my daddy wasn’t coming here to get me. Not this time. Not anymore.
THE HOUSE WAS DARK by the time I hitched and walked the four miles to it. Another four miles past it and I’d be at my own house—where maybe my daddy and Jesse Jr. were sitting down in front of the television, eating spaghetti with sauce from a jar. No green vegetables to speak of, like how it would be if I was still living with them. It had been weeks, maybe even months since I’d last seen them, and a part of me wanted to keep walking until I got to our door, opened it up and said, Hey, Daddy, your baby girl is home. But it’d been a long time since I’d been his baby girl. A long time since I’d helped Jesse Jr. hold the garlic press up high, letting the juice drip down over a bowl of hot spaghetti till the whole house smelled like the promise of something good coming.
I felt myself starting to shake and kicked at the broken-down door on the House, hollering loud for T-Boom to open it.
There was smoke coming out of the chimney, so I knew he was inside. The old gray boards nailed to the windows flapped where wind pushed up underneath them, and even from way off there was the smell of something bitter burning.
I kicked at the door again, calling T-Boom’s name so loud my throat hurt.
You lost your mind, girl? You want the police all over me?
He’d gotten skinnier over the months, and his hair was long, coming almost to his shoulders. The plaid shirt he was wearing had a hole in the arm. I used to love the way he looked in that shirt, the red and black squares of it, the way he’d pull the collar up when he was cold. Now I just stared hard at the hole, trying to find somewhere besides him to put my eyes.
You heard me calling you the first time. I know you did.
He held out his hand, and I put the money in it. Mostly quarters but some dollar bills, too. My stomach hurt from missing lunch, but I knew the moon would fill that hunger up quick.
T-Boom shivered, shaking a little as he counted the money. You still out by Donnersville?
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Meet the Author
Jacqueline Woodson (www.jacquelinewoodson.com) is the 2014 National Book Award Winner for her New York Times bestselling memoir BROWN GIRL DREAMING, which was also a recipient of the Coretta Scott King Award, a Newbery Honor Award, the NAACP Image Award and the Sibert Honor Award. Woodson was recently named the Young People’s Poet Laureate by the Poetry Foundation. Born on February 12th in Columbus, Ohio, Jacqueline Woodson grew up in Greenville, South Carolina, and Brooklyn, New York and graduated from college with a B.A. in English. She is the author of more than two dozen award-winning books for young adults, middle graders and children; among her many accolades, she is a four-time Newbery Honor winner, a three-time National Book Award finalist, and a two-time Coretta Scott King Award winner. Her books include THE OTHER SIDE, EACH KINDNESS, Caldecott Honor Book COMING ON HOME SOON; Newbery Honor winners FEATHERS, SHOW WAY, and AFTER TUPAC AND D FOSTER, and MIRACLE'S BOYS—which received the LA Times Book Prize and the Coretta Scott King Award and was adapted into a miniseries directed by Spike Lee. Jacqueline is also the recipient of the Margaret A. Edwards Award for lifetime achievement for her contributions to young adult literature, the winner of the Jane Addams Children’s Book Award, and was the 2013 United States nominee for the Hans Christian Andersen Award. She lives with her family in Brooklyn, New York.
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Beneath A Meth Moon moves back and forth through time and is told by the main character, Laurel. She’s lost both her mother and grandmother in Hurricane Katrina and moves from her home to a new town with her father and little brother. Laurel is a writer and was encouraged by her grandmother to keep writing everything down and this encouragement continues when she meets a new friend, Kaylee. The words aren’t enough though and in her despair she finds solace in a new boyfriend and with him comes his addiction and supply of meth. She quickly becomes addicted as well and ends up living on the streets due to her addiction. There she meets Moses, an artist, who knows just what Laurel is up to and calls her on it, letting her know that she is going to end up dead if she continues on this way. This book is written as an elegy, which I have never read before. I read this quickly and in one evening, it is short and the words are printed in a large font on the pages. Even if it weren’t formatted that way, I still would have finished it quickly as it was truly engrossing. It is a very emotional story that deals with loss and being lost and not knowing how to process the feelings. The author has handled all of these thoughts and feelings wonderfully and made it very easy to relate to what Laurel is going through. Tears flowed again and again as I was reading and I was surprised that a short read could be so emotional and compelling. I can see this book being something teachers and parents will want their children to read as well due to the life lesson learned and the horrible reality of addiction. Reviewed by Jessica for Book Sake.
Beneath a Meth Moon was a very well written book that will just suck you into the story. While reading about Laurel whose mother and grandmother were killed in hurricane Katrina, you feel like you could be one of the students who know her. It makes you feel like a part of it especially when you are growing up with drug pressures today like Laurel, when T-Boom gets her hooked on the "moon", you may know what it's like to be offered. Her new friend Kaylee has met her long enough to know her without the moon, long enough to have to deal with the addiction and separation from life Laurel is doing to herself. Jacqueline Woodson has somewhere found the perfect line between the edge of a depressing addiction with many realistic connections. The book was a very quick read, not because it was short, but because i didn't want to put it down within the two days i read it in. You will have to pick up this book for yourself to see what happens to Laurel and if she ever pieces her life back together.
Twigs. Twigs snap. Voices speak. <p> 'Run Arrow, run!' I think as l run through the forest. Something is chasing me. I don't know what it is. But l don't want to find out. My lungs burn. It's as if some one opened up my chest and cut a whole in my lungs and three a match inside them. I feel like l'm about to faint. 'Keep going!' <p> I run until the edge of a cliff comes into view, and l skid to a hault. I look back at the dark forest before looking foward again. When l do, l see a girl, about 10, standing on the edge of the cliff. She has long blonde hair and bright blue eyes that almost glowed. She was wearing a light blue dress that went past her knees. <p> I slowly take a few steps foward. "I would stop right there, if l were you." She speaks. She sounds familiar. She sounds like... <p> "Oakley? Is that you?" I say. I walk closer and she glares at me. It suprises me so much, l take a few steps back. <p> "Don't come any closer!" She growls. I notice a blood stain on the side of her dress, near her stomach. She is ghostly white. <p> I choke. "Oak-kley? Are you d-dead?" I start to shake violently. <p> She just looks at me. I take one step towards her. "No. There is no w-way that y-you are d-dead." I sqeak. <p> She looks at something behind me. "Yes, Arrow. I am dead. But it won't matter for very long. Because you'll already be dead too." She says. She turns and jumps off the cliff. <p> "No! Oakley!" I scream and go to run after her, when l hear a growl that makes me stop. I turn and look up. And find a huge rotweiler as tall as the trees. Red eyes and bloody teeth. Standing in front of me. I needed to make a desicion. And fast. Get eaten or jump off the cliff. <p> Before l could even get a single thought in my brain, it barked and pounced. I ran as fast as l could, and threw myself over the edge of the cliff. <p> As l was falling l saw that there was a river. Glowing a bright green. It was almost pretty. But then l realized something was in it. Bodies. No. Not bodies. But souls. Just floating around. <p> I hit the water. <p> I wake up screaming, sweat drenched all over my body. I'm breathing heavily. I turn on the lamp beside the bed l was sleeping on. I look around at the dull, boring room. But it was safe. <p> I looked around, half of me expecting to see Oakley sitting there. "She's gone, remember?" I whisper to myself. I think about what she had said in my dream. 'Yes, Arrow. I'm dead. But it won't matter long. Because you'll already be dead too.' She was talking 'bout the dog, wasn't she? I started to think. <p> Or maybe she wasn't warning me about the dog. But something else. Something worse then the dog. Something more evil and dark then anything l have ever heard of or seen. <p> If so, then l am in for some deep sh<_>it.
Very good book. Touches on some seriouse emotional struggles of people with addictive and/or home issues. The character was an example of recovery from both a loss and a bad way to deal with that loss. After her mother and grandmother were killed in a storm, she seeks a way to deal with it. She finds new friends and even a boyfriend who introduces her to meth. Meth helped her forget about the loss and made her feel happy. When she gets addicted to it, she starts bringing it home. After getting caught by her father she says its her freinds, not hers. This ruins her freindship and then she breaks up with her BF. She runs away from home and camps out in a town full of meth heads until she meets moses who helps her realize that she doesn't need meth. After reuniting with her father and recovering from meth, she gets back with her freind but leaves her old BF, who is still addicted, behind. A very good book that i jist could not put down. A bit difficult to follow, chronologically speaking. But all together, worth the read
I started reading this book and I couldnt put it down..really great book
Beneath A Meth Moon is a haunting and realistic portrayal of the horrible addiction that is meth. Written in the first person through the main character's eyes, Laurel is only fifteen when she becomes hooked on this drug that helps her escape the past. She struggles with the fact that her mother and grandmother are no longer living thanks to the devastating aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. I think this novel was written so beautifully and powerfully. I really felt for Laurel and the pain that she was internalizing. Instead of dealing with the past head on, she found it easier to escape that emotional pain by numbing herself with the meth. She calls the addicting substance 'the moon' because it makes her fly as high as the moon itself. I really loved Moses. I thought he was a great character in the story and really helped Laurel find the proper help. He really helped her see that once you're dead, you're gone forever, and that drugs only shorten your life. Even though it is a rather short novel (182 pages), I found every page brimming with emotion and stark detail. I was very impressed by her writing and can't wait to read the rest of her books. Definitely one of the best books written so far this year.
Yup here yuo go
Beneath a meth moon is a story about a teenager named Laurel who had everything. One day news arrives that there is a storm headed towards where they live. Laurels grandmother tells her that her father is going to take Laurel and her little brother up to Jackson just to make sure that they're safe. Laurel refuses to go when she finds out that her grandmother and mother are staying. They convince Laurel to go to Jackson with her father by telling her that if the storm gets bad they'll go in Walmart for safety. New reaches Laurel that both her mohermother and grandmother had died in
I must read it
We are so smart... Come to 'party' res 1 and poop on more people!!