Book Description

"KISS AND SAY GOODBYE" captures the soul of 1976 at Garvey High, where the heat isn't just from the summer sun but from the spark of hidden desires and whispered possibilities. John Henry James is more than just a senior with his eyes set on graduation—he's got his heart tuned to a different frequency, one where daydreams of Alphonse Patterson resonate with the clarity of a love song yet to be written. In this tale, it's the subtle glances, the secret wishes, and the what-ifs that color John Henry's world as he navigates the highs and lows of youth. Steamy daydreams of shared showers under waterfalls are his escape—a fleeting moment where the grit of reality is washed away, leaving nothing but the shine of what could be. Away from prying eyes, John Henry's thoughts of Alphonse are his to cherish, a sacred melody that dances in his mind, far from the harsh buzz of high school gossip. His longing is a quiet anthem of hope and courage in a world still learning to embrace the full spectrum of love. In "KISS AND SAY GOODBYE," the courage to love openly is as daring and bold as the era itself. It's a tribute to the enduring spirit of first love and the power of dreams that dare to defy the boundaries set by the world. Join John Henry on his journey of self-discovery and affection, a journey that promises the sweet ache of youth and the radiant dawn of something more. This isn't just a story of the past; it's a testament to the timeless adventure of finding oneself and the joy of a love that dares to whisper its name. Excerpt Chapter 1 In a moment John Henry and his classmates saw and heard the car coming, big and candy red--a Deuce-and-a-quarter with its white top glimmering under the sun. Some of the boys climbed the fence to scramble away from their fate. Girls clutched their books, turned their faces, and squeezed their bodies to brace themselves. They were penned between Marcus Garvey's iron fence and a large puddle the size of the High school's swimming pool. The Buick came flying. The motor screamed and whined behind the car's silver sharklike grill. A wave of dirty water washed over them, stinging their faces and soaking their clothes. The car stopped and they saw the tall black boy with a bushy afro looking back grinning and gripping the steering wheel. A gaggle of cheerleaders and basketball players leaned out the Buick's windows. They hooted and pointed their middle fingers before Alphonse gunned the motor and the car whined and roared down Scott Street. "Alphonse! Somebody ought to kick his a**," a girl shouted at the red whirlwind in the distance. The entire senior class of Marcus Garvey High knew Alphonse Patterson. He always had one of his long arms wrapped around a cheerleader. Always had a girl combing out his football helmet-sized afro or twisting it into plats. Always feeling up a girl's legs in Algebra, Biology, or English. Even in Art class when those fingers should have been holding a paintbrush, or molding clay into cups and ashtrays, Alphonse's fingers teased legs when he could get away with it. You could put a checkmark next to Alphonse's name for the qualities most Garvey girls considered cute—dimples, braces, slender build, thick afro with an afro pick stuck in it, a wisp of a goatee and mustache, long legs faintly brushed with soft hair, long arms with slightly muscled biceps. John Henry James was as visible as the air in the room to girls, Alphonse, or any other popular kid. Alphonse brushed past him as if he were sweeping past a post. He was less than nothing in Alphonse's eyes during the period they took gym together. Alphonse was in Coach Brown's basketball camp—a section of the gym roped off from the rusty basketball hoops and bent barbells the rest of the class had to deal with.