Newbery Honoree Derrick Barnes tackles timely issues of race and prejudice in this powerful, nuanced novel about an accomplished Black boy who strives to be seen as human.

CORETTA SCOTT KING BOOK AWARD HONOREE
ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: Publishers Weekly, Kirkus Reviews, The Week Junior, Audible, Chicago Public Library
KIRKUS PRIZE FINALIST
NATIONAL BOOK AWARD LONGLIST SELECTION
WNDB WALTER AWARD WINNER
JANE ADDAMS CHILDREN'S BOOK AWARD HONOR
ALSC NOTABLE CHILDREN'S BOOK
SOUTHERN BOOK PRIZE FINALIST
★ "Bold, extraordinary storytelling: not to be missed."—Kirkus Reviews, starred review
★ "A powerful tale." —Publishers Weekly, starred review
★ "A modern folktale that leaves a damning indictment." —BCCB, starred review
★ "This is Barnes at his best.” —School Library Journal, starred review
In the small town of Great Mountain, Mississippi, all eyes are on Henson Blayze, a thirteen-year-old football phenom whose talents seem almost superhuman. The predominately white townsfolk have been waiting for Henson to play high school ball, and now they're overjoyed to finally possess an elite Black athlete of their own.

Until a horrifying incident forces Henson to speak out about injustice.
Until he says that he might not play football anymore.
Until he quickly learns he isn’t as loved by the people as he thought.

Overnight, Henson's town is divided into two chaotic sides—those that support his decisions, and those that don't—when all he wants is justice. Even his best friends and his father can't see eye to eye. When he is told to play ball again or else, Henson must decide whether he was born to entertain those who may not even see him as human, or if he’s destined for a different kind of greatness.

Written for children ages 10 and up, Derrick Barnes's groundbreaking novel masterfully combines a modern-day allegory with classic-style tall tales to weave a compelling story of America's obsession with relegating Black people to labor or entertainment. Spanning the 1800s to today, this exceptional novel shows how much has changed over centuries . . . and, at the same time, how little.