Nickel Boys -

Elwood ran. He ran until his lungs turned to rust. He made it to a Greyhound station at dawn, his shirt bloody, his shoes gone. He didn't have the Green Book anymore. He didn't need it. He had something better—a list of names, memorized. The dead. The disappeared. The boys who never got a tombstone, only a row of healthy tomatoes.

For the Nickel Boys, justice came late. But it came. And in the end, that was the only miracle they needed. Nickel Boys

Elwood hesitated. The arc of the moral universe was long, but Turner’s match was short. For the first time, Elwood saw that bending toward justice might require becoming fire. Elwood ran

They took Griffen to the “White House,” a peeling clapboard shed behind the boiler room. No one talked about what happened inside. But boys came out walking sideways, or not at all. The official record said Griffen “absconded.” The boys knew he’d been buried under the new vegetable patch, where the tomatoes grew fat and red. He didn't have the Green Book anymore