Thank you to NetGalley and the publishers for the opportunity to reflect on this classic once again.

The first time I read this book, I was sixteen, and it was the spark that ignited my love for reading. It came from my cousin and kept me glued for days during the summer. Back then, I admired Tracy and wanted her confidence and freedom, even if I knew deep down it wasn’t really me. Now, years later, rereading Flyy Girl as an adult, I see Tracy differently: a girl who’s lost, reactive, and molded too much by her environment. I relate more now to Raheema, her quieter and more grounded friend.

As for the writing, I found myself a bit more critical this time around. Tracy's voice didn’t always align with the world the author built for her. Coming from an affluent Black household, her grammar and slang often felt exaggerated or misplaced. Still, that doesn’t erase the book’s impact—especially for young Black readers who finally saw someone that looked, spoke, and felt like them.

No matter how much time goes by, I’ll always give Flyy Girl credit for being my gateway into reading for pleasure. It’s a cultural time capsule, a mirror for many young women, and a piece of nostalgia that shaped my early reading years. For that, I’m giving it four stars—three for the story, and one for the place it holds in my heart.