Adult Chris: [v.o.] Lisa hated my story, so I showed it to Ms. Morello, who loved anything Black.
Ms. Morello: Lisa's right, this isn't good.
Chris: What's wrong with it?
Ms. Morello: Chris, there's nothing worse than racial stereotypes. We've seen this a thousand times. The tall, shirtless Black man, his ebony pecs glistening with sweat from working in the fields. His furrowed brow filled with savage lust. Where was I?
Chris: I think you were talking about racial stereotypes.
Ms. Morello: Oh, right. I want to read about the real Black men who walk the gritty streets of the hood. People like Super Fly, the Mack, Black Belt Jones, Truck Turner and Blacula. Tell me the truth about the pimps and the hustlers, the violence... all set to a jazzy beat!
Adult Chris: [v.o.] Oh, there's a jazzy beat I want to give her, right upside the head.

Adult Chris: [v.o.] Walking home, I couldn't help thinking that my street was usually filled with life, and now it was an empty wasteland, all because of me. I felt worse than food poisoning.
Jerome: [hushed] Little dude from across the street... come here, man. Man, what you doing out there?
Don't you know there's a killer on the streets?
Chris: Nah, I'll be all right.
Jerome: Let me hold a dollar. [takes a dollar] Be safe out here.
Adult Chris: [v.o.] Did I just get mugged from a window?

Greg: It's not too late. You can still get involved in an activity.
Chris: Like what?
Greg: I don't know. Something that plays into your strong suits.
Adult Chris: [v.o.] Problem was, all I had were weak suits.
Greg: Choir.
Chris: I can't sing.
Greg: Glee Club.
Chris: I can't sing.
Greg: The debate team. You can talk, can't you?