Kamran Smith has it all. He's the star of the football team, dates the most popular girl in school, and can't wait to join the Army like his big brother, Darius. Although Kamran's family hails from Iran, Kamran has always felt 100% American. Accepted. And then everything implodes. Darius is accused of being a terrorist. Kamran refuses to believe it, but the evidence is there -- Darius has been filmed making threats against his country, hinting at an upcoming deadly attack. Kamran's friends turn on him -- suddenly, in their eyes, he's a terrorist, too. Kamran knows it's up to him to clear his brother's name. In a race against time, Kamran must piece together a series of clues and codes that will lead him to Darius -- and the truth. But is it a truth Kamran is ready to face? And is he putting his own life at risk?
About the Author
Alan Gratz is the New York Times bestselling author of several books for young readers, including Refugee; Projekt 1065, a Kirkus Reviews Best Book of 2016; Prisoner B-3087, a Junior Library Guild selection that was named to YALSA's 2014 Best Fiction for Young Adults list; and Code of Honor, a YALSA 2016 Quick Pick. Alan lives in North Carolina with his wife and daughter. Look for him online at alangratz.com.
Read an Excerpt
From CODE OF HONORThunder. No -- footsteps. Feet pounding down the hall. Someone was coming for me. Half-remembered childhood nightmares seized me, and I scrambled backward across the bed in a panic, trying to get away from Voldemort, the Joker, the aliens, the demons. I fell on the floor with a thump, the bed covers coming with me. My legs were tangled in them. I couldn't kick free. And then they were there. Dark shapes surged into my room, black on black silhouettes with hulking shoulders and big round eyes that flashed. My fear made me five again. I curled up against the side of the bed like I was playing Hide and Seek with my older brother, Darius, hoping he wouldn't see me. But the demons knew where I was. They homed in on me like guided missiles. Rough hands grabbed me. Hauled me to my feet. Threw me face first on the bed. Somewhere, remotely, I heard my mother scream, heard my father cry out. The demons had come for them too. "Mom! Dad!" I cried. I kicked and squirmed, trying to get away, but my arms were wrenched behind me and bound with a plastic zip-ties that cut into my wrists. The hands pulled me up again, and I read the words on one of my captors' uniforms:POLICEHOMELAND SECURITY Reality finally overrode my half-awake nightmares. "No. No! Darius is innocent!" I cried. "He's not a terrorist! You don't understand! They're making him do everything!" The DHS agents wrangled a thick bag over my head, and the already dark room went completely black. "No! Please! Don't!" I yelled. The black bag was close. Suffocating. My hot breath was damp on my face, and I started to panic. "You can't do this! I was born in America! I'm am American citizen!" The DHS agents ignored my protests. I kicked and thrashed as they dragged me from my room, down the hall, and out through the front door. A few days ago, all I had cared about was winning the Homecoming game. Getting into college. Going on a date with Julia Gary. Normal high school senior stuff. A few days ago, I had been king of the world. Now I was a prisoner of the United States of America.