CHARACTER
The Book of Lost Friendsby Lisa Wingate

LaJuna Carter

LaJuna Carter

Quick Facts

  • Role: 1987 timeline student who becomes the keeper of Augustine’s local memory and the catalyst for the modern plot
  • First Appearance: Early chapters of the 1987 storyline, in fourth-period English
  • Key Relationships: Teacher-mentor Benedetta "Benny" Silva; community mentor Judge Gossett; guardian Aunt Sarge (Donna Alston); classmate Lil’ Ray Rust; elder Granny T
  • Defining Legacy: Descendant of Hannie Gossett and living bridge between the town’s hidden past and its present

Who They Are

Bold and wary in equal measure, LaJuna Carter is a teenager forced to grow up fast. She hides a quick mind behind sharp humor and a flinty demeanor, but her instincts are protective and her curiosity is rooted in reverence for history. LaJuna becomes the crucial hinge of the 1987 plot: the student who knows the town’s unspoken rules, the heir to Judge Gossett and Great-Aunt Dicey’s stories, and the one who literally unlocks Goswood Grove’s library—swinging open the door to memory for Benny, the class, and the town. Even her look—acid-washed jeans, color-block shirt, long braids tipped with red beads—signals a kid straddling worlds: she blends in with the 1980s hallway scene while marking herself as someone who won’t be ignored.

Personality & Traits

LaJuna’s guardedness is a survival strategy, but it never fully conceals her steadiness, care for others, and razor-sharp awareness of how power works in Augustine. The novel consistently pairs a brusque surface with acts of responsibility and a deep, almost archival knowledge.

  • Guarded, even combative: Her early hostility toward Benny frames the classroom as an arena she expects to be let down by—another adult who “won’t get it.” Her snarky assignment response about the new teacher (Chapter 2) functions as armor.
  • Responsible and protective: She yanks a child out of the path of a truck at the crosswalk (Chapter 2) and routinely covers for family needs, including caring for younger siblings and shielding her mother.
  • Pragmatic to the bone: When college comes up, LaJuna answers, “Who’s got the money for that?” (Chapter 14). It’s not cynicism for its own sake; it’s an accurate read of economic gatekeeping.
  • Intellectually acute, locally literate: Mentored by Judge Gossett and Great-Aunt Dicey, LaJuna knows the town’s back channels and its buried holdings—the plantation Bible, the pantry hatch, the library—and when to reveal them.
  • Inherently kind beneath the bristle: Her quiet assist at the Cluck and Oink—passing along Aunt Sarge’s number to fix Benny’s roof—marks the first turn from adversary to ally.
  • Distinctive presence: “Long, glossy dark braids with red beads,” “acid-washed jeans, and a color-block shirt” (Chapter 4) visually underline her blend of individuality and careful self-presentation.

Character Journey

LaJuna begins as the class skeptic: a student who reads teachers before they can read her, and who will not be patronized. The first cracks appear not in speeches but in deeds—the crosswalk rescue, the Cluck and Oink roof fix—that reveal how much she shoulders at home and how reflexively she protects others. Her decision to guide Benny to Goswood Grove is the hinge of the 1987 narrative. She doesn’t suddenly soften; she sets boundaries (“In the school, we ain’t friends”), but she chooses when and how to share knowledge and gradually steps into leadership on the “Tales from the Underground” project. In the Epilogue, reading the ad written by her ancestor, Hannie Gossett, she claims both lineage and voice, fusing private inheritance with public testimony and embodying the novel’s belief in The Power of Stories and History.

Key Relationships

  • Benedetta “Benny” Silva: LaJuna and Benny move from mutual suspicion to a working partnership. Benny sees the scholar beneath the swagger; LaJuna supplies the keys—literal and metaphorical—to the town’s archive, shaping Benny’s class into a community endeavor rather than a classroom exercise.
  • Judge Gossett: A grandfatherly mentor whose house holds both books and secrets, the judge taught LaJuna that preservation is power. Through him (and Great-Aunt Dicey), she learns where the past is kept and how to guard it until the right moment—and the right people—arrive.
  • Aunt Sarge (Donna Alston): The practical anchor in LaJuna’s life, she offers stability when LaJuna’s mother cannot. LaJuna’s willingness to connect Benny with Aunt Sarge’s skills shows trust and a careful widening of her circle.
  • Granny T: A community elder who names LaJuna’s promise out loud. Granny T’s pride functions as communal endorsement, signaling that LaJuna isn’t just a lone bright student; she’s a bearer of the community’s hopes.
  • Lil’ Ray Rust: With Lil’ Ray, LaJuna is allowed to be a teenager—playful, shy, and open. Their budding romance reveals the softness the rest of her life rarely affords and underscores what’s at stake when youth is compressed by adult burdens.

Defining Moments

LaJuna’s impact turns on choices—what to reveal, whom to protect, when to step forward.

  • The Crosswalk Rescue (Chapter 2): She jerks a child out of the path of a truck. Why it matters: It punctures the “surly student” surface and reframes her as a guardian, someone whose instinct is to act.
  • “The Snarky Sentence” (Chapter 2): Her note about the “crazy lady” teacher is wickedly funny and cutting. Why it matters: It’s a manifesto of mistrust, showing how students build protective narratives when institutions fail them.
  • The Cluck and Oink Offer: Passing Benny Aunt Sarge’s number for roof repairs. Why it matters: It’s the first deliberate act of help—small, specific, generous—that turns their relationship from adversarial to collaborative.
  • Unlocking Goswood Grove (Chapter 14): LaJuna leads Benny to the library, the secret hatch, and the plantation Bible with enslaved people’s records. Why it matters: She becomes the story’s catalyst, transforming rumor into evidence and launching the class project into living history.
  • Reading Hannie’s Ad (Epilogue): LaJuna publicly voices her ancestor’s words. Why it matters: She claims inheritance and authorship at once, binding personal identity to collective memory.

Why She Matters

LaJuna symbolizes the splice between generations—the living knot tying a 19th-century search for kin to a 1980s classroom. Her life in Augustine bears the weight of Injustice, Race, and Social Hierarchy—poverty, gatekeeping, and lowered expectations—yet she turns proximity to struggle into moral clarity and custodianship of history. In choosing when and how to share knowledge, she models agency: the next generation not only receiving stories, but stewarding, interrogating, and amplifying them.

Essential Quotes

  • “It’s about a crazy lady who gets in a accident in the morning and hits her head. She wanders off into a school, but she’s got no clue what she’s doing there. Next day, she wakes up and don’t come back.” — Chapter 2 This note is half joke, half indictment. LaJuna weaponizes humor to expose how transient teachers can be in Augustine—and to protect herself from investing in someone who might vanish. It’s also a sharp piece of reader-response criticism: she’s already interpreting the institutional story she’s been handed.

  • “The judge’s big old house is just across the field from that one you rented... Got lots of books there. Whole walls full, floor to the ceiling. Books nobody even cares about anymore.” — Chapter 4 The line mixes awe with sorrow: abundance left unloved. LaJuna understands both the wealth inside Goswood Grove and the tragedy of neglect, framing the library as a moral test—will anyone care enough to listen to what’s on those shelves?

  • “In the school, we ain’t friends.” — Chapter 14 Boundary-setting is LaJuna’s way of staying safe while doing brave things. She’ll open doors to the past, but she refuses to be absorbed by the school’s performative friendliness. The sentence marks her agency: she chooses the terms of connection.

  • “Finally, the girl’s chin rises with stalwart determination. Her voice carries past the students to the audience, demanding attention as she speaks a name that will not be silenced on this day. ‘I am Hannie Gossett.’” — Epilogue In performance, LaJuna’s voice fuses with her ancestor’s, collapsing distance between speaker and story. The moment is ceremonial and insurgent at once: she insists that erased names return to public hearing, turning remembrance into action.