Merci Suárez can't dance

Review by Booklist Review

In this sequel to the Newbery-winning Merci Suárez Changes Gears (2018), 12-year-old Merci takes on growing responsibilities both within her family and as a seventh-grader. With her brother Roli away at college, she is now seen as the oldest child and often finds herself taking care of her younger cousins while Tía Inés is working, and Merci also struggles to come to terms with the way Alzheimer's affects her beloved grandpa Lolo. At school, after an unexpected accident at the Hearts Ball--and after working together with friends, new and old, to promote her tía's new dance studio--Merci and her friends come together to show Seaward Pines the beauty of other cultures, and she discovers a strength within her that, together with the love and support of friends and family, assures her everything will be OK. Filled with the familiar, laugh-out-loud humor from the first title, this sequel will quickly pull readers, both returning and new, into Merci's world. The struggles and worries that occupy her thoughts--from seeing the changes in Lolo to losing her tía Inés and the new, uncertain feelings she might be having for a fellow classmate--will all be relatable to readers young and old. Fans of Merci will root for her as they are immersed in her vibrant world full of unique characters and heartfelt surprises.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

---

Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Newbery Medalist Medina artfully chronicles another year of highs and lows in the life of Cuban American middle schooler Merci Suárez via this winning sequel to Merci Suárez Changes Gears. Now a seventh grader, 12-year-old Merci has taken on more responsibilities at home and at school, including caring for her beloved grandfather, Lolo, as his Alzheimer's advances, and managing the school store with her classmate, "human calculator" Wilson Bellevue, a quiet Cajun and Creole boy who wears a foot brace. But when Miss McDaniels drafts the entrepreneurial Merci to sell tickets for the Heart Ball--and cooperate with her former nemesis, Edna Santos--Merci must learn to step outside her comfort zone and onto the dance floor. Medina continues to build on the stellar character work of the first book, balancing laugh-out-loud one-liners ("Buy a Heart Ball ticket if you have absolutely nothing better to do in this sad life") with vulnerability ("People... vanish, sometimes a little at a time. One day Lolo won't know how to move his legs. One day soon, he won't be able to dance"). This is a sequel of the finest quality, perfectly capturing the feelings of awkward first crushes ("Did he say I look nice? Or did he say I look like a rodent? I can't decide") and evolving friendships. Ages 9--12. Agent: Jennifer Rofé, Andrea Brown Literary. (Apr.)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

---

Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4--7--Now in seventh grade, Merci Suárez finds that a new school year means new responsibilities and challenges. Merci has been enlisted to work in the school store alongside her classmate Wilson, who she might have a crush on, and is still at odds with classmate Edna, who is planning the Heart Ball and maybe stealing one of Merci's best friends. At home, Merci feels unprepared for the changes in her family: Her grandfather's Alzheimer's is worsening, and Tía Inez has started dating. At heart, Merci remains true to the character readers met in Merci Suárez Changes Gears and has grown alongside her readership. However, seventh grade Merci is not without her flaws. She and Edna still don't get along, and she spies on Tía Inez even when she isn't supposed to. When Merci is roped into running a photography booth at the Heart Ball and the equipment breaks, she tries to solve the problem herself instead of telling an adult. The struggles with friendships, responsibility, school, crushes, and jealousy that Merci and her friends face will strike a chord with many readers. A subplot about Tía Inez keeping dance classes alive for neighborhood kids who have nowhere to go after school serves as a subtle reminder of Merci's Cuban American heritage and the socioeconomic status of families in Merci's neighborhood versus at school. The plot moves along at a consistent and page-turning pace, and as usual Medina's characters are excellently written and developed. Medina also touches on racism and how shared cultural heritage can bring people together unexpectedly. VERDICT Fans of Merci Suárez Changes Gears will love watching how Merci and those around her grow. This sequel doesn't disappoint and is an essential purchase for all collections.--Liz Anderson, DC P.L.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

---

Review by Horn Book Review

Merci navigates the troubles of home and seventh grade -- and the gap between the two -- with her irresistible combination of spirit and heart in this follow-up to the Newbery-winning Merci Suarez Changes Gears (rev. 9/18). Though she seems more self-assured these days, Merci resents the many changes taking place around her: her brother Roli away at college, Lolo's deteriorating condition, -Hannah's growing friendship with Merci's archenemy, and the growing confusion surrounding new friend Wilson. At the annual "Heart Ball" school dance, Merci only wants to participate from the place she has the most confidence and control -- behind the camera -- but even that goes awry. Vibrant and insightful, the novel explores the complexities of friendship and family as well as first romance. All the while, Merci stays busy getting herself into trouble and finding her way out of it again. Her relationships at school strengthen, to mirror the bonds she has with her family at home, and when school and home lives merge, Merci discovers the best way to manage change is with a bit of bravery, a welcoming attitude, and people you trust. And by the end of this funny, heartwarming book, Merci does dance -- with family and friends, on an intimidating stage at her exclusive private school in the first performance of the new Suarez School of Latin Dance. Julie Roach May/June 2021 p.137(c) Copyright 2021. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

---

Review by Kirkus Book Review

Merci returns for another year of challenges and triumphs at home and at Seaward Pines Academy. Life is a little different for Merci Suárez in seventh grade. Her older brother, Roli, is off at college; her grandfather Lolo's Alzheimer's is more pronounced; and she has to regularly babysit her Tía Inés' spirited young twins. Merci is also assigned to manage the school store with math whiz Wilson Bellevue, a quiet classmate who she realizes is not obnoxious like other boys. When Merci and Wilson are expected to sell tickets to the Valentine's Day Heart Ball, she must interact with a slightly-less-mean Edna Santos, who's running the dance and unexpectedly getting closer to Hannah, one of Merci's best friends. Medina continues to tenderly explore issues such as multigenerational immigrant family dynamics, managing the responsibilities of home and school, and learning how to navigate changing friendships and first crushes. Merci's maturity and growth are as engaging and compelling as they were in the author's Newbery Medal winner, Merci Suárez Changes Gears (2018). The cast is broadly diverse; Merci and her family are Cuban American, Edna is Dominican, and Creole and Cajun Wilson has a physical disability. An uplifting sequel told with heart and humor. (Fiction. 9-13) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

---

Chapter 1 To think, only yesterday I was in chancletas, sipping lemonade and watching my twin cousins run through the sprinkler in the yard. Now, I'm here in Mr. ­Patchett's class, sweating in my polyester school blazer and waiting for this torture to be over. We're only halfway through ­health and PE when he adjusts his tight collar and says, "Time to go." I stand up and push in my chair, like we're always supposed to, grateful that picture day means that class ends early. At least we won't have to start reading the first chapter in the textbook: "I'm OK, You're OK: On ­Differences as We ­Develop." ­Gross. "­Coming, Miss ­Suárez?" he asks me as he flips off the lights. That's when I realize I'm the only one still waiting for him to tell us to line up. ­Everyone else has already headed out the door. This is sixth grade, so there won't be one of the PTA moms walking us down to the photographer. Last year, our escort pumped us up by gushing the ­whole way about how handsome and beautiful we all looked on the first day of school, which was a stretch since a few of us had mouthfuls of braces or big gaps between our front teeth. But that's over now. Here at ­Seaward ­Pines ­Academy, sixth-graders don't have the same teacher all day, like Miss ­Miller in the fifth grade. Now we have homerooms and lockers. We switch classes. We can finally try out for sports teams. And we know how to get ourselves down to picture day just ­fine --​­ ​­or at least the rest of my class does. I grab my new book bag and hurry out to join the others. It's a wall of heat out here. It won't be a far walk, but August in ­Florida is brutal, so it doesn't take long for my glasses to fog up and the curls at my ­temples to spring into tight coils. I try my best to stick to the shade near the building, but it's hopeless. The slate path that winds to the front of the gym cuts right across the quad, where there's not a ­single scrawny palm tree to shield us. It makes me wish we had one of those ­thatch-​­roof walkways that my grandfather Lolo can build out of fronds. "How do I look?" someone asks. I dry my lenses on my shirttail and glance over. We're all in the same uniform, but some of the girls got special hairdos for the occasion, I notice. A few were even ­flat-​­ironed; you can tell from the ­little burns on their necks. Too bad they don't have some of my curls. Not that everyone appreciates them, of course. Last year, a kid named ­Dillon said I look like a lion, which was fine with me, since I love those big cats. Mami is always nagging me about keeping it out of my eyes, but she doesn't know that hiding behind it is the best part. This morning, she slapped a ­school-​­issue headband on me. All it's done so far is give me a headache and make my glasses sit crooked. "Hey," I say. "It's a broiler out here. I know a shortcut." The girls stop in a glob and look at me. The path I'm pointing to is clearly marked with a sign. Maintenance crews only. No students beyond this point. No one in this crowd is much for breaking ­rules, but sweat is already beading above their glossed lips, so maybe they'll be ­sensible. They're looking to one another, but mostly to Edna ­Santos. "Come on, Edna," I say, deciding to go straight to the top. "It's faster, and we're melting out here." She frowns at me, considering the options. She may be a teacher's pet, but I've seen Edna bend a ­rule or two. ­Making faces outside our classroom if she's on a bathroom pass. ­Changing an answer for a friend when we're ­self-​­checking a quiz. How much worse can this be? I take a step closer. Is she taller than me now? I pull back my shoulders just in case. She looks older somehow than she did in June, when we were in the same class. ­Maybe it's the blush on her cheeks or the mascara that's making ­little raccoon ­circles under her eyes? I try not to stare and just go for the big guns. "You want to look sweaty in your picture?" I say. ­ Cha-​­ching. In no time, I'm leading the pack of us along the gravel path. We cross the maintenance parking lot, dodging debris. Back here is where ­Seaward hides the riding mowers and all the other untidy equipment they need to make the campus look like the brochures. Papi and I parked here last summer when we did some painting as a trade for our book fees. I don't tell anyone that, though, because Mami says it's "a private matter." But mostly, I keep quiet because I'm trying to erase the memory. ­Seaward's gym is ginormous, so it took us three ­whole days to paint it. Plus, our school colors are ­fire-​­engine red and gray. You know what happens when you stare at bright red too long? You start to see green balls in front of your eyes every time you look away. Hmpf. Try doing detail work in that blinded condition. For all that, the school should give me and my brother, Roli, a ­whole library, not just a few measly textbooks. Papi had other ideas, of course. "Do a good job in here," he insisted, "so they know we're serious ­people." I hate when he says that. Do ­people think we're clowns? It's like we've always got to prove something. ­Anyway, we make it to the gym in half the time. The back door is propped open, the way I knew it would be. The head custodian keeps a milk crate jammed in the door frame so he can read his paper in peace when no one's looking. "This way," I say, using my take-charge voice. I've been trying to perfect it, since it's never too early to work on your corporate leadership skills, according to the manual Papi got in the mail from the chamber of commerce, along with the ­what-​­to-​­do-​­in-​­a-​­hurricane guidelines. So far, it's working. I walk us along back rooms and even past the boys' locker room, which smells like bleach and dirty socks. When we reach a set of ­double doors, I pull them open proudly. I've saved us all from that awful trudge through the heat. "­Ta-​­da," I say. ­Unfortunately, as soon as we step inside, it's obvious that I've landed us all in ­hostile territory. The older grades have gathered on this side of the gym for picture day, and the door's loud squeak has made everyone turn in our direction to stare. They don't look happy to have "the ­little kids" in their midst. My mouth goes dry. They're a lot bigger than we are, for one thing. ­Ninth-graders at least. I look around for my brother, hoping for some cover, but then I remember that Roli got his fancy senior portraits taken in July at a nice ­air-​­conditioned studio at the mall. He won't be in here at all today. He'll be helping in the science lab, as usual, and working on all his college applications in between. So here we are, trapped thanks to me. Excerpted from Merci Suárez Can't Dance by Meg Medina All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

---