Book number two from the Bingo Board! I am actually reading a third one, one that I started before this one, but that’s not important. This is a book I’ve had since 2024, and I picked it up at an indie bookstore in my town. This bookstore is known for it’s more YA selection of fiction, which is not a bad thing in the slightest. I think, however, I am not the audience for that, as I’m in my thirties and my joints hurt when it’s cloudy.
Hah, they don’t. Or maybe they do and I’ve just assumed that’s normal. In any case, this book is about two teenage girls who come from entirely different backgrounds who meet at a facility geared towards helping struggling girls. One has an addiction problem, brought on by her mother’s constant need for image control (she’s a politician, so do with that as you will). The other one is from a poorer tax bracket, and she ends up almost ending her life due to plans not going the way she expected them to.
Now, before we decide to go in on either one of them, I pose the question: do you remember what it was like being sixteen and your body had an influx of hormones and brain chemistry got altered? Do you remember what it felt like not understanding and knowing others were going through the same thing, but still feeling alone? Those questions are what I kept in my mind as I read this book. It’s a powerful look at two girls, both people of color (a genre I need to read more of, absolutely), and their struggle to know what it means to be who they are within the confines of their societal expectations.
I will say the book is slightly misleading in its description, because it has in the description that the girls find a music box that has letters tucked inside from a former resident of the facility. The way it’s presented in the description makes it sound like there’s going to be far more to the mystery of this unknown girl than there actually is. I think it lasts maybe two or three chapters out of the whole book. Which is fine, as again, YA fiction tends to flow differently from general adult fiction.
And I think that’s something a lot of people got hung up on. I read through some of the other reviews from readers on Goodreads, and while I agreed with some, a fair number were detracting points based on the pacing, the realism of a facility responding the way it did to a major plot point that I won’t spoil. I can’t speak to how facilities designated specifically for teen girls are run, but I do know that the author is, according to her bio on the back jacket cover, a psychologist. I didn’t know this going into the reading, but finding out about it afterward made some of the dialogue make that much more sense.
I think this book reminded me of what it was like to be uncertain in my own brain when I was sixteen. From my past entries on here, you might wonder if that didn’t send me into a spiral of “oh no, I’m not better.” But it didn’t! I felt sorrow for Camila because through her introspection, I saw my own. I felt such pity for Dani and her need to have control over just one part of her life, feeling like she didn’t anywhere else. What I think this book brought out for me is my ability to see it from the other side. No, I’m not cured of depression and all that garbage, but I can carry it better. It doesn’t weigh me to the floor so I can’t move. There’s a difference between uncertainty when you’re sixteen, when the world falling apart is quite literal, and the uncertainty one feels in their thirties, almost forties. Flashes of being young and afraid go darting through like fireflies, the familiarity of “I’m not good enough and never will be” stabbing every so often. What was the future if it felt so bleak at sixteen?
It’s not so bleak (current world climate aside, of course) because I know I made it out of the previous bleakness. And that was really, really, really fucking hard for a kid to do. In some ways, the kid I never got to be still dances in the living room, singing at the top of her lungs words she never gets right, but being wrong with confidence is a gift. She gets to see what we become, and I like to think she’d be incredulous at how far past the expiration date we gave ourselves we’ve lasted.
It is a wonder. It is a true, unfiltered wonder.
So, yes, this book is young adult, and some of it is unrealistic, but if it reminds me of how far I’ve come, I’m okay with it. I gave this book 3.5 stars rounded up on Goodreads.
Until next time, friends!
salisbury.fake 