conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a title for a book about Elijah, Upthe, Spiegel with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'This Way Home'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: This Way Home
  OF ALL THE possible responses to his friend's death, Elijah wouldn't have guessed silence. He sat rigid in the Fiat's passenger seat, gripping his phone tightly, as though he could squeeze the bad messages right out of it. When Kerri pulled up at his house, he tried to speak, but no words came to him.
  Later, at the police station, Elijah's mother, Mrs. Henderson, and Mrs. Buchanan sat in the waiting room while the remaining sons met with Detectives Tillman and Stacey. Detective Tillman was bald and paunchy, wearing an ill-fitting suit, while Stacey was short and clean-shaven and had dark bags under his eyes. The boys sat next to each other in a small, private office containing a desk and four gray steel chairs.
  After they went through the details and specifics of the walk home, the detectives ran through a litany of other questions.
  Michael started to get a dangerous look in his eyes, so Elijah took over and spoke for both of them. He answered every question and told them about Money and the Blood Street Nation. He answered honestly, describing his encounters in the black Mercedes word for word. Encounters that he hadn't shared with Michael before. Yet every question he answered prompted three more. It didn't take long for him to see that the detectives didn't believe him.
  Elijah: I don't know his real name. He was watching me play a pickup game at the Battlegrounds. He called me over to his car.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: But Michael was no longer listening. He sat up and smoothed the pages of the comics and rearranged the plastic flowers. He struggled to his knees, and then his feet. "I wanna leave this place."
  THEY WALKED DOWN the path and back through the wrought iron archway. Michael's knees and the back of his pressed white shirt were stained with dirt, but he didn't seem to notice or care. On the way back they stopped at the Battlegrounds and sat quietly on the splintered bench. They observed the first signs of normalcy returning to the place—guys hanging out and talking trash, pickup games, even Jones spouting off his impressive-sounding bullshit under the live oak tree.
  Elijah was the first to break the silence. "You know, I almost wish they'd shut this place down. So nobody could play here anymore."
  Michael took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe that's what happened to me. Maybe I got indifferent. That's why I don't care no more."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: ". He sat up and smoothed the pages of the comics and rearranged the plastic flowers. He struggled to his knees, and then his feet. "I wanna leave this place."
  THEY WALKED DOWN the path and back through the wrought iron archway. Michael's knees and the back of his pressed white shirt were stained with dirt, but he didn't seem to notice or care. On the way back they stopped at the Battlegrounds and sat quietly on the splintered bench. They observed the first signs of normalcy returning to the place—guys hanging out and talking trash, pickup games, even Jones spouting off his impressive-sounding bullshit under the live oak tree.
  Elijah was the first to break the silence. "You know, I almost wish they'd shut this place down. So nobody could play here anymore."
  Michael took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe that's what happened to me. Maybe I got indifferent. That's why I don't care no more.But Michael was no longer listening.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Banks kicked the ball away. He found himself standing next to Elijah, his hand on the boy's shoulder as they watched Kerri approach.
  THANKS TO MY WIFE, Jennifer Goodman, who is as lovely and mysterious as when we first met. And thanks to Krista Vitola and Beverly Horowitz at Delacorte Press and Seth Fishman at the Gernert Company. 
  Wes earned a Master of Letters in International Relations from Oxford University as a Rhodes Scholar. Upon graduation, he served as a paratrooper and captain in the U.S. Army, participating in a combat tour of duty in Afghanistan with the 82nd Airborne Division.
  Wes founded and is CEO of BridgeEdU, an innovative educational platform that addresses the college completion and career placement crisis by providing freshmen with real-world internships and service learning opportunities. He lives in Baltimore with his wife and their daughter, Mia, and son, James.