I hadn't seen her in quite some time. Actually, I hadn't seen many of my relatives in quite some time. Aunt Lena's mouth hadn't changed much. Neither had Uncle Cleo's deafening laugh. My father's brother was still built like an ex-football player. He desperately tried to lift me into the air, although I had to remind him that I was fourteen, and no longer five.

On my last summer visit to "The City That Reads," I'd welcomed the spicy smell of crabs and the paddle boat ride around the Inner Harbor. But this was not a short summer visit. It was a permanent life-changing catastrophe. This wasn't the usual family gathering where a few of the Parkers congregated to play cards, gossip, and overeat. This was a full-blown invite to the entire clan to discuss how young Nina won't be able to adapt from the lily-white suburbs of Rainhaven, New Jersey, to the urban streets of Baltimore City.

The contrived celebration was held in the square courtyard at the six-family apartment building that A&I bought. I should mention that behind my parents' backs, never to their faces, I call them collectively by their first names, Annie and Isaiah, which I have further shortened to A&I.

Anyway, the concrete area was miserable in comparison to the half acre of grassy land our house in Rainhaven had been situated upon. There were no trees. No shrubs. Not even blades of grass growing from cracks in the concrete. No wonder it was so hard to breathe.

A&I were thrilled that they could purchase this shabby buildi