It sounds like this

Anna Meriano

Book - 2022

"Yasmín Treviño didn't have much of a freshman year thanks to Hurricane Humphrey, but she's ready to take sophomore year by storm. That means mastering the marching side of marching band--fast!--so she can outshine her BFF Sofia as top of the flute section, earn first chair, and impress both her future college admission boards and her comfortably unattainable drum major crush Gilberto Reyes. But Yasmín steps off on the wrong foot when she reports an anonymous gossip Instagram account harassing new band members and accidentally gets the entire low brass section suspended from extracurriculars. With no low brass section, the band is doomed, so Yasmín decides to take things into her own hands, learn to play the tuba, and lea...d a gaggle of rowdy freshman boys who are just as green to marching and playing as she is. She'll happily wrestle an ancient school tuba if it means fixing the mess she might have caused. But when the secret gossip Instagram escalates their campaign of harassment and Yasmín's friendship with Sofia deteriorates, things at school might be too hard to bear. Luckily, the support of Yasmín's new section--especially introverted section leader Bloom, a sweet ace and aro-spectrum boy--might just turn things around"--

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Young Adult Area YOUNG ADULT FICTION/Meriano Anna Checked In
New York : Viking 2022.
Main Author
Anna Meriano (author)
Physical Description
383 pages ; 22 cm
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

Yasmín is so ready for her sophomore year and her first year of marching band, given that her freshman year was upended by Hurricane Humphrey. But all her plans are derailed when she calls out an incident of bullying and suddenly the entire low-brass section is kicked out of the band. In an effort to make amends, she trades her beloved flute for a massive tuba. Just as her frustration for her fellow brass players is waning, Yasmín's digital past comes back to haunt her in a way that makes her question who she is and who she wants to be. Meriano takes a compelling look at the dual burden of being a perfectionist and a peacemaker. Cyberbullying is explored in a realistic--and never heavy-handed---manner that shows its destructive forces as well as the opportunities it leaves for remorse and forgiveness. This novel is bound to become a classic for band kids, and its honest approach to the pain and joy of evolving friendships make it relatable to anyone, with or without a spare spit valve.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 9 Up--Yasmín is at a breaking point, and the contributing factors include a mother whose behavior borders on toxic, the financial fallout on the Houston community after Hurricane Humphrey, a frenemy, and educators who, while well intentioned, put unnecessary pressure on students, specifically Yasmín's Spanish teacher. Another contributing factor is a harmful online culture that allows peers to hide behind a screen and attack one another. Put all of these pieces together, and they make an explosive cocktail. Through the upheaval, Yasmín must negotiate healthy boundaries, learn how to distance herself from a negative friendship, and build new ones without repeating previous mistakes--and learn to play the tuba to save the marching band. This YA novel will sit well with the band nerds as well as school counselors who want young people to see that a successful path to healthy friendships is attainable. Meriano addresses the wide and varying spectrum that can be found in a student population. The representation of love and acceptance in the queer community is a definite positive for the novel. Yasmín embraces this diversity: she cheers for Layla and Mia, a budding romance in the flute section; creates a supportive space for Milo and Caleb, freshmen in the brass section, to express their affection without fear of judgment; and Bloom can safely express being asexual and having attraction to Yasmín. VERDICT This novel embodies the value of celebrating healthy love; stock it on the realistic YA shelf.--Stephanie Creamer

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

A decision backfires, putting the marching band and Yasmín's dreams in jeopardy. Yasmín Treviño is a Type A personality, a Mexican American sophomore with high academic ambitions who is nothing if not determined. After her freshman year was ruined by Hurricane Humphrey, which hit her Texas town, Yasmín is sure that this will be the year when she turns everything around. Specifically, she aims to conquer what has been her main goal since fourth grade: moving beyond second chair flute to become first chair--even though her best friend, Sofia Palacios, has always held that spot. After Yasmín reports a bullying incident at a band camp party and, with it, the fact that there were minors drinking alcohol, everyone in the low brass section gets suspended, leaving the band's chances of success in an upcoming competition in serious jeopardy. To help salvage things, Yasmín volunteers when their band director asks for people to switch instruments, but learning the sousaphone goes less than swimmingly. Although there are strengths to the narrative, in particular the exploration of online interactions, Yasmín is not sufficiently compelling as the book's lead, and the slow pace may hinder engagement. The rivalry with her best friend is, in Sofia's words, "way past cute," and readers are not offered enough moments of Yasmín's support of Sofia for their friendship to feel earned. A romantic subplot emerges later in the story, and through it, the book explores aromantic and asexual identities. Lacking in heart. (Fiction. 13-18) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

"I'm not going to Homecoming, I'm playing at Homecoming," I explain to Mom, trying to coax the Kingwood High Marching Band Information and Parental Consent packet out of her hands so I can flip straight to the back page of signature blanks. I need her to sign before stumbling across any more actual informa­tion. "The football game, not the dance. And that's all months away, practically at the end of the season." She waves her hand to dismiss my words before stub­bornly flipping through the rest of the packet, laser eyes scanning as if the pages contain the secret to my successful high school career, or the hidden clause that will ruin it. I don't think she'll find anything objection­able, but sometimes she latches on to details--like the Homecoming dance--and turns them into another box for me to check off. I'm not opposed to checking off boxes; I love check­ing off boxes. It's just that, going into sophomore year, my checklist is already full of an overwhelming number of super-important boxes that I want to check: get straight As, do well in my first AP class, prep for the PSAT, make friends with some teachers for future recommendation letters, keep up my extracurriculars (band), get leader­ship experience (first chair), and . . . How is Mom still reading the same page?? I thought that waiting until Sunday evening would make it easier to rush her through the packet, but I forgot that nobody but me cares about being late to church. Dad unhurriedly rinses dishes and loads them into the dish­washer, his button-down not yet buttoned over his T-shirt and his salt-and-ginger hair uncombed. Mom frowns at the dress code ("But they can't stop you from painting your nails, mija!"), dressed to reverently impress as al­ways but showing no signs of getting ready to move. Even if we leave in the next minute and a half, we'll still be five minutes late to the latest possible mass. I take a breath and smile to keep my tone pleasant when I hint, "I'll be ready to leave as soon as this is signed." Mom finally scribbles her signature on the last page and helps Dad finish the dishes while I tuck the forms into my brand-new folder and zip it safely into the polka-dotted backpack I picked out so carefully last summer. It was supposed to give me good luck for my freshman year . . . so that didn't work out well at all. Maybe I should've asked for a new backpack this year. I'm not, like, extremely superstitious, but then again, I am currently the driving force getting most of my fam­ily out the door to go to religious services because I want this year to go well. I technically have two more weeks of summer, but tomorrow morning is the first day of band camp, so basically the start of the year. And just to add to the pressure, it's actually my actual first day of band camp ever. A week before camp was supposed to start last year, a tropical storm out in the Gulf agitated itself into a full-blown hurricane--Hurricane Humphrey--and aimed itself at Texas. The Sunday night when I should have been getting to bed early to make it to the marching field on time, I was instead clutching a flashlight, watching flood­water rush down our street and creep up our front lawn. We were lucky; the school was not. It took the whole se­mester to get things back in repair enough to have band, and by then the marching season was over. So, yeah, maybe I'm a little superstitious, and maybe I waited until the last possible minute to give Mom the forms to sign, and maybe I'm on my third Guadalupe candle burning it­self out on my desk. But that's just because I need this year to go smoothly. I do finally get Mom and Dad out the door and into the car. We're late, but not later than usual, so I count that as a win. "What are you going to wear to Homecoming?" Mom asks while Dad maneuvers through the packed parking lot of St. Cecily's. I hold back a sigh. "My uniform. I'm going to wear my band uniform. Because it's a band performance." Mom tuts in disappointment and grumbles that I should be excited about the dance and the dress too, and I can feel her grumbling sliding inevitably toward com­plaining that I didn't do anything quinceañera-related last year, and then if I don't stop her, she'll be off on a pro-femininity rant. Her rants have less to do with me (I'm very pro-femininity, thank you! Not to lean too heavily on presentation stereotypes, but I'm literally wearing a pink skirt right now!) and more to do with Ellen, my sibling who doesn't do dances or dresses or femininity, and even though none of that is officially my problem, Mom has a way of unloading it all on me at least once a week. Also, since Humphrey tanked her small interior design busi­ness the same way it tanked Ellen's nonprofit job and my marching season, she's got a lot more time on her hands to pay attention to my business. I'm actually lucky Ellen is at work today, or else there would have been a whole separate argument where Mom tried to convince her to come to church and she tried to come up with an excuse not to go to church and I would have ended up getting lectured about that too. But the goal is to avoid all lectures on all subjects. Part of starting the year off right. "I guess I'll probably go to the dance after the Homecoming game," I concede. "But I need to ask Sofia about outfits." I'm not above invoking my best friend as a subtle reminder to Mom that I have good role models in my life. "Oh, how is Sofia? I've barely seen her this summer--but you girls are always connected on your phones, right?" "Right," I say, smiling past an unpleasant prick of emo­tion. Sofia hasn't come over much this summer. Maybe because she got an annoying boyfriend, or maybe because I was too loud about how annoying her boyfriend is. But we do talk on the phone, even if I'm bad at texting. And she's driving me to band tomorrow. Once the school year starts and we can't avoid each other, things will go back to normal. Dad finally finds a parking spot, and we jump out of the car and speed-walk past the announcement board out­side the chapel that reminds us to sign me up for Sunday school CCE classes (another box on my checklist, an­other piece in the puzzle of my schedule for the year). We make it into the pews just in time for the homily (church SparkNotes for latecomers), and then all I have to worry about is squeezing my eyes tight shut when the speaker calls for "all the intentions we hold in our hearts." A good year , I intent as hard as I can. Let us all have a good year. And specifically, let me get first chair , I have to add. I figure it doesn't hurt to ask. Excerpted from It Sounds Like This by Anna Meriano 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.