While we struggled over rocks, sucking air, or while we were hiding under a bush during a thunderstorm at 11,000 feet, somewhere along our hiking journey, Lenora had the idea of a book featuring black characters and language for developing readers.
"You're right," I remembered my days as an inner-city teacher. "Where is the Junie B. Jones, Magic Tree House, or Diary of a Wimpy Kid for black kids? We should write it. Together."