Does My Body Offend You?

Informationen zum Autor Mayra Cuevas and Marie Marquardt Klappentext A timely story of two teenagers who discover the power of friendship, feminism, and standing up for what you believe in, no matter where you come from. A collaboration between two gifted authors writing from alternating perspectives. Leseprobe Chapter One Malena I'm not a superstitious person, but my abuela Milagros says catastrophes come in threes. I'm starting to believe she's onto something. First came this beast of a hurricane called María, which caused our Island more devastation than we can mentally process. Mami and I are now stranded in the swampland that is Florida--our second stroke of bad luck. (The only upside is I get to hang out with my cousins every day, instead of just once or twice a year.) And now, because irony is Lady Fortuna's weapon of choice, thanks to those very cousins, my mala suerte trifecta may be complete. How do I avert this third disaster looming over me before it wrecks what's left of my life? I reach for the medal of La Virgencita hanging around my neck, which Abuela says protects me from the mal de ojo. A cold chill runs down my spine as I step back from the full-length mirror attached to my bedroom door. I don't know which sight is more pitiful, my reflection or the mishmash of secondhand furnishings around me--mostly donations from a local church drive for María evacuees. This is bad. The skin on my back has gone from brown to angry red. The color of a Caribbean lobster that's just been pulled from a pot of scalding water. It turns out bathing suits make for terrible landscaping apparel. Yesterday, after my cousin Soraida back-talked Tía Lorna one too many times, we--because Tía Lorna sees me as an accessory to my cousin's shenanigans--were forced to clean and mow their backyard. All afternoon, I pruned bushes while the sun literally licked my back. My cousin Carlos went shirtless too, but somehow he managed to get a great tan. It's so annoying that guys don't have to worry about their boobs hanging out. Or about how to fall asleep if you can't lie on your back. I bet Carlos slept like a baby last night. Not me. I barely slept at all. Lying on my stomach was pure torture, thanks to the two mountains that have recently risen from my chest. No one told me that double D really stands for doble dolor--double the pain. Where did these things come from, anyway? Besides Soraida, I don't know many other fifteen-year-olds that have to shop for big bust bras. My abuela says the Rosario women were all blessed with the precious gift of tetas grandes--a clear sign of our female strength, she reassures me. Wear them proudly, she loves to say. But this morning, they feel more like an enormous inconvenience than a gift. Mami knocks on my bedroom door and peers in. You ready, nena? I can't be late. They're short-staffed at the ER, she says in Spanish. It's a small comfort that, at home, we only speak in our mother tongue--Puerto Rican Spanish. Mami opens the door a little wider. Her scrubs are covered in palm trees and flamingos standing on one leg. They're what my cousin Soraida mocks as Florida chic. Mami says the kids at the pediatric ER where she works love them. The cute pink birds apparently help ease her patients. I wish they would do the same for me. There's no way I can wear this. I drop the bra dangling from my fingers onto the bed. It stings. I turn so she can get a better view of my back. Mami walks in and sits on my bed. She pulls a penlight from a pocket in her top and aims it at my skin, inspecting at close range. You have first-degree burns, she says in her no-nonsense medical voice. Did the pomade we spread on last night not help? She picks up the white tube on my nightstand and reads the label. I'll bring you something stronger from the hosp...

Autorentext

Mayra Cuevas and Marie Marquardt

Klappentext

A timely story of two teenagers who discover the power of friendship, feminism, and standing up for what you believe in, no matter where you come from. A collaboration between two gifted authors writing from alternating perspectives, this compelling novel shines with authenticity, courage, and humor.

Malena Rosario is starting to believe that catastrophes come in threes. First, Hurricane María destroyed her home, taking her unbreakable spirit with it. Second, she and her mother are now stuck in Florida, which is nothing like her beloved Puerto Rico. And third, when she goes to school bra-less after a bad sunburn and is humiliated by the school administration into covering up, she feels like she has no choice but to comply.

Ruby McAllister has a reputation as her school's outspoken feminist rebel. But back in Seattle, she lived under her sister’s shadow. Now her sister is teaching in underprivileged communities, and she’s in a Florida high school, unsure of what to do with her future, or if she’s even capable making a difference in the world. So when Ruby notices the new girl is being forced to cover up her chest, she is not willing to keep quiet about it.

Neither Malena nor Ruby expected to be the leaders of the school's dress code rebellion. But the girls will have to face their own insecurities, biases, and privileges, and the ups and downs in their newfound friendship, if they want to stand up for their ideals and––ultimately––for themselves.

Leseprobe

Chapter One

Malena

I’m not a superstitious person, but my abuela Milagros says catastrophes come in threes. I’m starting to believe she’s onto something.

First came this beast of a hurricane called María, which caused our Island more devastation than we can mentally process. Mami and I are now stranded in the swampland that is Florida--our second stroke of bad luck. (The only upside is I get to hang out with my cousins every day, instead of just once or twice a year.)

And now, because irony is Lady Fortuna’s weapon of choice, thanks to those very cousins, my mala suerte trifecta may be complete.

How do I avert this third disaster looming over me before it wrecks what’s left of my life?

I reach for the medal of La Virgencita hanging around my neck, which Abuela says protects me from the mal de ojo. A cold chill runs down my spine as I step back from the full-length mirror attached to my bedroom door. I don’t know which sight is more pitiful, my reflection or the mishmash of secondhand furnishings around me--mostly donations from a local church drive for María evacuees.

This is bad. The skin on my back has gone from brown to angry red. The color of a Caribbean lobster that’s just been pulled from a pot of scalding water. It turns out bathing suits make for terrible landscaping apparel.

Yesterday, after my cousin Soraida back-talked Tía Lorna one too many times, we--because Tía Lorna sees me as an accessory to my cousin’s shenanigans--were forced to clean and mow their backyard. All afternoon, I pruned bushes while the sun literally licked my back.

My cousin Carlos went shirtless too, but somehow he managed to get a great tan. It’s so annoying that guys don’t have to worry about their boobs hanging out. Or about how to fall asleep if you can’t lie on your back.

I bet Carlos slept like a baby last night.

Not me. I barely slept at all. Lying on my stomach was pure torture, thanks to the two mountains that have recently risen from my chest. No one told me that double D really stands for doble dolor--double the pain.

Where did these things come from, anyway? Besides Soraida, I don’t know many other fifteen-year-olds that have to shop for “big bust bras.” My abuela says the Rosario women were all blessed with the precious “gift” of “tetas grandes”--a clear sign of our female strength, she reassures me.

“Wear them …