Three teens, growing up the hard way

YOUNG ADULT | Their paths blocked by race, class

Ranging in location from a gritty, urban Florida neighborhood, to a burgeoning New Mexican town where cholos rub shoulders with Waspy jocks, to a solidly Anglo-Saxon Boston exurb called Blythbury-by-the-Sea, "the kind of town where no one who lived there, worked there," three recent young adult novels bravely grapple with issues of race and class in America.

The Death of Jayson Porter (Hyperion, 320 pates, $15.99), by Jamie Adoff, sinks readers into Jayson's dangerous world, where each day just getting from point A to B without being bullied or worse is an accomplishment. "Brick walkways turn in to broken sidewalks and burned-out buildings. A war zone, for real.... Even the cops don't stop in this neighborhood."

Navigating his personal life in a Florida high-rise project proves just as difficult. Jayson's white mother is an abusive drunk and his African-American dad is MIA because of crack addiction. Overwhelmed, the teen constantly contemplates throwing himself over the breezeway rail outside his 18th-floor apartment door. Only a few things tether him: his easygoing friend Trax and his enrollment in an adjacent town's prep school, which he attends thanks to a scholarship and the generosity of an old friend of his mother's. When just one tether frays, though, tragedy beckons.

Adoff's portrait of the underclass, told in Jayson's astute street-savvy voice, is affecting right up to an incongruous fairy-tale ending. Too bad. By that time readers will be hoping Jayson has the strength for true growth, not just rescue.

The dangerous allure of gangs isn't sugarcoated in The Brothers Torres (Hyperion, 320 pages, $15.99), by Coert Vorhees. While half-Mexican American Francisco "Frankie" Towers (whose mother's maiden name is Torres), feels uneasy with his brother Steve's sudden desire to mix with young toughs like the super bad Flaco, he also -- protected by the actions of Flaco's homeboys against a rich jock -- knows how good it feels when someone's got your back. "I feel invincible right now. I feel safe and protected, like I belong here. And this feeling is almost like a drug."

Once only interested in blowing up dirt clods with firecrackers, the sophomore's now primarily interested in the police chief's hot daughter, Rebecca Sanchez. Unfortunately the jock, Dalton, is also interested in the girl, and when Dalton's parents' economic control over the town includes buying out Frankie's parents' Mexican restaurant, the "Torres" brothers are angry. A showdown at the high school's homecoming dance seems inevitable. First-time novelist Voorhees keeps the action moving and always makes clear Frankie's mixed emotions and anguish.

Trouble (Clarion, 336 pages, $16), by Gary D. Schmidt, opens on the night when 8th-grader Henry's world is thrown into turmoil. His older brother Franklin, an idolized high school rugby star with whom he planned to climb Maine's Katahdin Mountain, is in critical condition after being hit by car. Unfortunately Chay Chouan, a Cambodian immigrant and fellow Longfellow Prep student, was the car's driver. Chay, from a nearby blue collar town, is looked down upon by his wealthy A-list classmates and was particularly picked on by Franklin, who feared the mutual attraction between Chay and his younger sister Louisa. Chay ends up charged with aggravated assault. But should he be?

When Franklin dies, Henry resolves to climb Katahdin solo. An encounter with Chay on the way there, though, forces him to face truths about his own privilege. While Schmidt makes clear the assumptions of wealth, his tongue-in-cheek tone and the habit of always capitalizing the T in trouble are sometimes grating.

It's no coincidence that in all three books, major characters end up seriously injured and hospitalized. The world's hard to navigate for young men out to prove themselves. Adoff, Voorhees and Schmidt do their readers a huge favor by being clear-eyed about the violent turbulence of growing up.

Free-lance writer Karen Cruze is a local young adult librarian.