Charles is a 17-year-old Korean American student: social but shy, smart but unmotivated, athletic but more interested in video games. He belongs to a tight-knit group of boys known as “class clowns.” He is also close friends with girls including two Black students, Lolia and Tiana, and Sita, a mixed South and East Asian girl. His house is a popular hangout where teenagers drink and play games. Friends sometimes glimpse his inner turmoil. When drunk, he becomes tearful and confessional about his anger, or reckless, as when he impulsively jumped over a roaring bonfire.

Andrea, a biracial student with a Black father and white mother, has felt like an outcast since elementary school. To her friends, she appears strong, sarcastic, and funny, and she is an aggressive soccer player. Inwardly, she has depression that began the summer before high school. Her greatest relief comes after school, isolating herself in her loft bed and binge-watching Netflix to escape her own life.

Charles’s troubled family history began around age 10 with his parents’ arguments. His father’s 2008 recession job loss led to depression and a bipolar diagnosis, and he became verbally abusive, mostly toward Charles’s older sister, Eliza. After a contentious divorce, Charles’s mother gained full custody and moved with Charles into her new boyfriend Alexander’s home. Charles developed a hostile relationship with his white stepfather. His mother constantly argued with him about excessive video gaming. Charles became emotionally closed off, unable to confide in friends or Eliza about his unhappiness.

The summer before junior year, Andrea cuts off all the damaged, chemically straightened parts of her hair. She reflects on grueling hours straightening her hair, and the hurtful memory of a boy named Greg telling her to get her “nappy hair” out of his face.

This chapter lists microaggressions Black students endure in a predominantly white school: being singled out during discussions of enslavement, asked to speak for all Black people, receiving backhanded compliments about intelligence, and being compared to the only Black character in a movie.

In March 2017, Charles hangs out with close friends Ana and Kerry. Ana, biracial with a Black father and white mother, is one of the few people Charles feels he can talk to freely. Charles frequently makes racist jokes directed at Ana, referencing enslavement or stereotypes like fried chicken. Ana tolerates this humor, assuming it is a private joke. She reflects on the difficulty of her biracial identity in Albany, feeling she is an “acceptable level of Black” for white students but perhaps “white-washed” to Black students (24).

Alpha members of Charles’s group like Charles, Murphy, Patrick, and Greg pick on lower-status friends like Wyatt and Jon, the group’s “punching bags.” Andrea, friends with Wyatt, tells the others to stop. One boy retaliates with the remark, “That’s why your hair’s like broccoli” (27).

On Saturday, March 18, 2017, Murphy, who is Mexican and white, sees Get Out with friends Lolia, who is Black, and Sita, who is South and East Asian. Afterward at Sita’s house, Murphy reveals a private Instagram account created by Charles.

Lolia and Sita discover deeply offensive content on Charles’s private Instagram: a photo of Andrea paired with a gorilla, a meme mocking Lolia for “nappy hair,” and fat-shaming posts targeting another Asian friend. The most disturbing post is an image of Lolia and her basketball coach with nooses drawn around their necks, captioned “twinning is winning” (30).

This poetic chapter conveys the visceral shock of discovering betrayal by a trusted friend: a racing heart, breathlessness, and an inability to distinguish “which way is up” (31).

The noose is a powerful emblem of racial terror linked to lynching. Between 1887 and 1950, at least 4,384 Black people were lynched in the United States in brutal public spectacles enforcing white supremacy. The noose continues to be used by hate groups such as the Ku Klux Klan as an intimidating message to Black people: “Be afraid,” “I could kill you,” and “your life doesn’t matter” (33).

Before showing the account to Lolia and Sita, Murphy views the content as “Charles being Charles” (34). Because the girls hide their shock, he misinterprets their reaction. Having never considered how their experiences as Black girls differ from his own, he assumes they appreciate the dark humor. They promise not to tell anyone.

On March 18, Andrea notices troubling social media posts from Lolia and Sita about racism and betrayal. She messages Sita asking what is going on, but Sita does not reply.

Months earlier, Charles was at The Melt restaurant with Greg, Steven, and Patrick. He showed them a post of Ana wearing a classic black dress stating she wanted to go back to “the old way” (40). Charles joked that if she did, she would be enslaved. When his friends laughed, Charles created a meme pairing Ana’s photo with an engraving of a white man beating a naked Black man who is hanging from a tree. Greg suggested Charles use a separate private account for this “edgier” content. Charles created @yungcavage, and the others agreed to follow it.

This chapter outlines unwritten Instagram rules for teenagers circa 2017. They have a “rinsta” (main account), a “finsta” (an account accessed only by close friends featuring more candid posts), and a “spam” account for “roast posts” (derogatory jokes about other people). The author describes follows, likes, and comments as social currency. Instagram’s algorithms track behavior and monetize attention, making teenagers a valuable demographic.

@yungcavage has 14 followers by March 2017—Charles’s inner circle including Greg, Murphy, and Patrick, plus juniors and sophomores. Patrick was already known for racist jokes and had given a class presentation invoking the “model minority myth,” claiming Asian Americans are more hard-working than Black Americans. Charles justifies the group’s racist humor, claiming they “knew no one actually believed these things” and understood it was a joke (46).

This poetic chapter compares online cruelty to a “packet of poison” (47). Each keystroke feels like victory, bonding those who laugh while dehumanizing the target. Digital distance allows inflicting harm without witnessing the victim’s pain.