There Goes the Neighborhood


 Contents
 
 Title Page
 Copyright
 Contents
 Dedication
 Prologue
 Part One
 
 One
 Two
 Three
 Four
 Five
 Six
 Seven
 Eight
 Nine
 Ten
 Eleven
 Twelve
 Thirteen
 Fourteen
 
 Part Two
 
 Fifteen
 Sixteen
 Seventeen
 Eighteen
 Ninteen
 Twenty
 Twenty-one
 Twenty-two
 Twenty-three
 Twenty-four
 Twenty-five
 Twenty-six
 Twenty-seven
 Twenty-eight
 Twenty-nine
 Thirty
 
 Part Three
 
 Thirty-one
 Thirty-two
 Thirty-three
 Thirty-four
 Thirty-five
 Thirty-six
 Thirty-seven
 Thirty-eight
 Thirty-nine
 
 Epilogue
 Dear Reader
 Acknowledgments
 Credits
 About the Author
 
 
 
 Guide
 
 Cover
 Title Page
 Copyright
 Contents
 Start Reading
 
 
 
 
 
 Copyright © 2023 by Jade Adia
 All rights reserved. Published by Hyperion, an imprint of Buena Vista Books, Inc. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Hyperion, 77 West 66th Street, New York, New York 10023.
 First Edition, March 2023
 Designed by Zareen Johnson
 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
 Names: Adia, Jade, author.
 Title: There goes the neighborhood / Jade Adia.
 Description: First edition. • Los Angeles ; New York : Disney-Hyperion, 2023. • Audience: Ages 12–18. • Audience: Grades 7–9. • Summary: “In order to stop the destructive forces of gentrification, three best friends use social media to create a fake gang and get justice for their South LA community”—Provided by publisher.
 Identifiers: LCCN 2022007108 (print) • LCCN 2022007109 (ebook) • ISBN 9781368084321 (hardcover) • ISBN 9781368084338 (ebook)
 Subjects: CYAC: Gentrification—Fiction. • Gangs—Fiction • Social media—Fiction. • Murder—Fiction. • African Americans—Fiction. • Hispanic Americans—Fiction. • South Los Angeles (Los Angeles, Calif.)
 Classification: LCC PZ7.1.A245 Th 2023 (print) • LCC PZ7.1.A245 (ebook) • DDC [Fic]—dc23
 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022007108
 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022007109
 ISBN 978-1-368-08433-8
 Visit www.HyperionTeens.com
 
 Contents
 
 Title Page
 Copyright
 Contents
 Dedication
 Prologue
 
 Part One
 One
 Two
 Three
 Four
 Five
 Six
 Seven
 Eight
 Nine
 Ten
 Eleven
 Twelve
 Thirteen
 Fourteen
 Part Two
 Fifteen
 Sixteen
 Seventeen
 Eighteen
 Ninteen
 Twenty
 Twenty-one
 Twenty-two
 Twenty-three
 Twenty-four
 Twenty-five
 Twenty-six
 Twenty-seven
 Twenty-eight
 Twenty-nine
 Thirty
 Part Three
 Thirty-one
 Thirty-two
 Thirty-three
 Thirty-four
 Thirty-five
 Thirty-six
 Thirty-seven
 Thirty-eight
 Thirty-nine
 
 Epilogue
 Dear Reader
 Acknowledgments
 Credits
 About the Author
 
 
 To Leslie, of course.
 Every page, every time. It’s all for you, Mom.
 To all the Black kids raising a finger to the status quo.
 Your fury and creativity are beautiful, and I cannot wait to see what you do.
 
 AIGHT, so I know how it looks—bad—but I can tell you for damn sure that we didn’t do it. Everyone thinks the gang did it, which I guess makes sense given that gangs tend to have a reputation for stuff like this, but I know for a fact that it wasn’t the gang because the gang is fake. I made it up.
 Well, me, along with Zeke and Malachi. And we’d never kill anyone. That would defeat the whole purpose of it all. We invented the “gang” so that we could live. I know that might not make sense now, but it will soon.
 I just need you to trust me on this: we did not kill that white man.
 
 
 “Swear to god if this happens again, I’m gunna scream.” I pull my forehead back from the glass and use my fist to wipe away the condensation.
 “Yeah, I’ll walk straight to the mayor’s mansion, and he better be ready to catch these hands,” Zeke says. He forms two fists and throws a couple of fake punches in the air.
 Malachi laughs, gripping the number on his classic Kobe jersey. “Bruh, you’re not gunna fight anyone.”
 This much is obvious to me and anyone who knows Zeke. The boy once told me that he could never imagine himself fighting someone, unless it was in space and he had a lightsaber.
 “Okay, fine,” Zeke relents. “But I will send a strongly worded email. And write a bad Yelp review.”
 “I don’t think you can write Yelp reviews for the City of Los Angeles,” I mumble. It’s only July 1, but when I try to count up the number of mom-and-pop shops to bite it this summer alone, I give up after ten. Jugos Azteca was the last place in the neighborhood where you could still get a giant thirty-two-ounce Styrofoam cup of agua fresca at any hour for only $2.
 But now it’s gone too.
 The global spice mart was the first to go. Some corporate stooges bought it last year and turned it into a boutique Pilates studio. And the Liquor Bank where we used to buy sour belts and chile mango pops? That was shut down for a health code violation, and now there’s an artisan coffee shop where you can paint a ceramic mug while you wait. Last year, someone took over the fish fry restaurant next to that, and now there’s a goddamn taco shop run by a couple of white boys, and their only salsa option is pico de gallo. Pico-de-fucking-gallo. Not a bottle of Valentina or Yucateco in sight. Not even any Tapatío or weak-ass Cholula. We went there once to see what the deal was, but between the three of us, we only had enough cash for one taco to split. When the corny dude brought it over to us, we asked for hot sauce and he gave us SRIRACHA. Fuck outta here with that ketchup shit. That would never have happened back in the day.
 So yeah, things in South LA are changing, to say the least.
 “We could walk on Western Avenue until we find the elote guy?” I suggest, more so as an excuse to get as far away as possible from this depressing-ass empty storefront than out of an actual craving for street corn.
 “Rhea, it’s too hot to walk. Like Mad Max slash Dune slash that Star Trek episode when Kirk fights that desert lizard level hot.” Zeke uses the seam of his graphic tee to wipe a line of sweat from