We are all we have

Marina Tamar Budhos

Book - 2022

After her mom is taken by ICE, seventeen-year-old Rania's hopes and dreams for the future are immediatly put on hold as she figures out how take care of her younger brother and survive in a country that seems to be closing around them.

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Subjects
Genres
Young adult fiction
Social problem fiction
Domestic fiction
Novels
Published
New York : Wendy Lamb Books, an imprint of Random House Children's Books [2022]
Language
English
Main Author
Marina Tamar Budhos (author)
Edition
First edition
Physical Description
241 pages ; 22 cm
Audience
Ages 12+
ISBN
9780593120200
9780593120231
9780593120217
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

On the precipice of her high-school graduation, Raina is excited to begin the next phase of her life, including starting college and getting her first job at a bookstore. One thing she doesn't expect is the nighttime ICE raid that leads to her mother being detained. Raina is now thrust into a world she doesn't know or understand--she must fight for her mother's freedom and the asylum that they all believe they were promised. Raina must now also become her younger brother's surrogate mother and do whatever she needs to do to make sure they survive. When Raina and her little brother escape from a state home with their new ally, Carlos, they come up with plan after plan to escape the horror of being placed in another group home or of possibly being deported. Budhos' newest novel is one that invokes the humanity of undocumented immigrants. It is in this story that we truly experience the raw vulnerability of what many immigrants experience. Budhos weaves a rich tapestry of words that navigates a yearning for acceptance, love, and the unerring need for freedom.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

When U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement detains her mother, Pakistani teen Rania Hasan struggles to navigate the aftermath in a gut-wrenching tale by Budhos (The Long Ride). Following her journalist father's disappearance when Rania was younger, she and her pregnant mother fled Pakistan, immigrating to the U.S. Now, living in 2019 Brooklyn, her mother's "routine check" of their asylum application goes terribly wrong; she's detained by ICE in the middle of the night, leaving now-17-year-old Rania to care for her eight-year-old brother Kamal alone while attempting to graduate high school. But after a neighbor informs child protective services that she and Kamal are without a guardian, the siblings are taken to a shelter for unaccompanied minors. Determined to save her mother and get their lives back, Rania and Kamal, joined by a fellow shelter resident, Latinx-cued Carlos, escape and embark on a road trip to meet an estranged relative. Budhos populates this hopeful tale with a large cast of kind-hearted characters, whose boundless compassion for Rania and Kamal, and sense of helplessness in the face of an unfair and impossible government system, is palpable. Ages 12--up. Agent: Gail Hochman, Brandt & Hochman. (Oct.)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 9 Up--Seventeen-year-old Rania is set to graduate alongside her BFF Fatima, has a summer job lined up and feels everything is going her way. But her mother Ammi, who is in the process of applying for political asylum from Pakistan, is detained one night in an ICE raid. The normalcy of her senior year shatters. Rania lands in a shelter with her little brother. But Ammi, full of dreams of higher education for her children, has hustled and done a lot of things right: there is money stashed, paperwork in order, a lawyer on call, and the car she used as an Uber driver is parked outside the apartment. Rania can take off in the car and take what she can into her own hands to help her mother's case, but not without emotional risk. Readers stepping lightly into romance will appreciate the slow build of affection that blossoms between Rania and Carlos, who has also been alone since his aunt was deported to Mexico. As Rania seeks support from her estranged extended family, readers get a glimpse into Pakistani dating norms, the dangers facing journalists, and the ongoing oppression of women in her home country. A relatable read for teens discovering their native cultures, figuring out the nuances in complex parental relationships, and taking risks while moored with a strong sense of identity and an attuned moral compass. VERDICT Recommended for readers looking for greater understanding of the immigration experience via a masterful blend of character- and plot-based storytelling.--Sara Lissa Paulson

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

When an overnight ICE raid in 2019 Brooklyn leads to her mother's arrest, seventeen-year-old Rania and her eight-year-old brother, Kamal, are left behind. Soon after, they are moved to a shelter, where they meet affable teen Carlos. The trio escapes and takes to the road through New England, initially in search of Rania and Kamal's estranged uncle. Rania and Carlos slowly forge a strong bond, as Carlos shares the story of his perilous journey from Mexico to escape gang threat and Rania relives fragmented memories of fleeing Pakistan after her political journalist father was murdered. At a temporary sanctuary synagogue, they are forced to make difficult choices in their search for a safe haven. The tightly wound plot creates an underlying tension as the young characters' situations constantly unravel. The story reflects the lives of many undocumented immigrants and asylum seekers forced to flee their homes in search of safety, zeroing in on the threat of retribution for dissenting politics. Budhos aptly conveys how the draconian U.S. immigration policies instituted in 2018 cruelly separated children from their families, and incorporates references to iconic art and poetry to reflect on the loss of home, on love, and on family. Sadaf Siddique September/October 2022 p.79(c) Copyright 2022. 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

An undocumented Pakistani teen has to grow up very quickly after her mother is suddenly detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. High school senior Rania's life changes forever when she abruptly wakes up to the news that ICE agents have arrived to arrest her mother. It's 2019, and she, her mother, and her brother, Kamal, are living in Brooklyn as they wait to see if they will be granted asylum due to the fact that Rania's father--a journalist in Pakistan--has gone missing. Ammi brought them to America on her own, and they've lived as if they might have to take off at any time. Still, gifted writer Rania has done well in school. After Kamal and Rania are taken to a shelter for unaccompanied minors, she's horrified by the conditions around them and decides that escaping to Connecticut and getting a long-estranged uncle to care for them is their only hope. With the vital assistance of Carlos, a fellow teen and shelter resident, the siblings sneak away for the road trip of a lifetime. Budhos vividly portrays the fear and confusion many undocumented families experienced after the implementation of Trump-era asylum and immigration policies while also unflinchingly detailing the tensions and secrets within Rania's family. As Rania learns more about her mother's mysterious past, she realizes that solidarity and community are both essential tools for freedom as vulnerable people seek the right to a safe haven. A triumphant tale about finding home. (author's note, ghazal lyrics) (Fiction. 12-18) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

I Brooklyn, New York 2019 Chapter One They're coming. It takes a second for the words to drip into the thick soup of my sleep. They're here. The words make ripples in my half dreams. A lamp switches on and a bright band of light stings my lids. "Rania! They're here." I wrench up from the quilt, my heart quivering. "Who?" "Just come." Ammi nods to the other bed, where my little brother, Kamal, is sleeping. "Don't wake him." "Of course," I grumble. I punch my pillow and force myself to get up. Kamal is protected. He's sensitive. Don't let him hear. With me, her voice is flat, practical. I follow her out of the bedroom; she's still in her jacket from work--­a black windbreaker that makes a rubbing noise as she walks. The keys are still in the open door. She hasn't even pulled out her sofa bed. Several people are crowded outside our apartment. The fizzing, garbled sound of a walkie-­talkie from the hall cuts through our living room. My heart speeds up. They're in black quilted vests with police on the back. No. Not us. A woman turns to me, the one with the walkie-­talkie. "Hold," she says, and clicks off. "And this is?" "My daughter." "Any other children in the apartment?" "My son." "And your daughter is how old?" A hesitation. "Eighteen." "Ammi--­" I start, but she flashes me a cool, forbidding look. That's a lie! I want to yell. I'm not eighteen for seven months--­December. I'm tall, very tall, taking after my dad, so most people think I'm older than I am. I get away with a lot: the teachers who don't say a word when I come to pick up my little brother; the kids who hit on me to buy them beer at the liquor store. Me and Ammi both stretch the truth when we have to. The woman looks up at me. "We'll have to see some ID, then." Ammi gives her one of her charming smiles. "Can you wait just a moment?" She takes my arm and draws me into the foyer. "Ammi!" I whisper. "My ID says I'm seventeen! Why did you--­" "Hush." She sets her hands on my shoulders. Ammi is so short, she has to lift her chin meet my gaze, but she can still terrify me with one firm look. "No time for panic or baby stuff." "I'm not a baby!" Her eyes dart in a dozen directions. "There's a plan--­" "What plan?" I yank up my sweatpants, worrying the string. "I tried to call Maria Auntie but she's not home. She's on a shift." "Why did you say I was eighteen?" "Rania!" She shakes me lightly. "You're minors. You can't be left on your own." On our own? My eyes swing around the foyer. Wait. Panic starts up in my chest. Ammi can't go. She's fumbling inside a table drawer, taking out an envelope. Ammi once showed me the paper inside, explaining, "If anything happens, this is what you need. It's a standby guardianship form. Maria Auntie will take care of you." Maria Auntie lives down the hall and is our surrogate aunt since we don't have any family in this country. She brings us foil dishes of arepas and tamales and we keep our extra keys with her. Maria Auntie is a lot like Ammi--­she's got hustles and side-­hustles to keep her family going. "Everything okay over there?" the officer calls over to us. Ammi pulls me back to the doorway. "My mistake. My daughter is eighteen in a few months." The woman gives us a skeptical look. "So you've appointed a standby guardian?" "Yes, yes." She thrusts the folded paper at the officer, who reads it. "And where is Maria Alvarez?" My mother's voice fades. "Working." The woman squints at the form. "And who is this--­Lucia Alvarez?" "Lucia!" my mother says brightly. "Yes, yes! She is home. Maria's daughter." Oh great, I think. Lucia. The biggest mess-­up around. She dropped out of LaGuardia College and got in trouble with some creepy boyfriend. The officer goes down the hall and presses, hard, on Maria Auntie's buzzer. A few other doors in the hall crack open, some still with the chain attached, worried eyes peering out. I feel a humiliating burn around my ears. We have seen this before. Men and women in these same jackets swarming up the stairs. Calling through the door. Crying and pleading and then our neighbors were gone. "Who is it?" Before the officer can speak, Ammi calls out, "It's us! Sadia and Rania!" The door swings open. Lucia's eyes are smeary, one side of her curly hair flattened. "Yeah?" When the officer explains the situation, she rolls her eyes, as if to say, You guys are always a pain. I've heard her complain to Maria Auntie that they shouldn't get involved with other people's problems. There's a footfall behind me. Turning, I see Kamal in his rumpled pajamas, rubbing his eyes. "Ammi?" he mumbles. My mother looks crushed. Everything she does is to never let Kamal know this could happen. Me, I'm always supposed to go along with her, even if it makes no sense. "Take him back in," the walkie-­talkie woman says to Ammi, firm. "May I say goodbye?" The woman sighs. "This isn't a good idea." My whole body clenches. Every part of me wants to scream: Then don't take my mother. Ammi kneels down. She's in slacks and a crisp shirt, as if for an office, even though she's been driving all night for Uber. Kamal stretches his thin arms around her neck and nestles in her hair. She's murmuring to him calmly. I'm furious--­and scared. Then Ammi wipes her eyes. "Ma'am?" "Just a minute." "Ma'am, don't make this harder." She stands. She puts something in my palm--­cool and bumpy--­it's her keys, to the car, to everything else. She draws me close. I smell sandalwood and a trace of coconut oil in her hair, the stuff that I use for my unruly waves. My mother is so young, it's as if we're sisters, not mother and daughter. "You can drive," she whispers. "Remember that." True. Ammi made sure I took driver's ed, even though I use buses and the subway everywhere. She never lets me drive the car. But she's always ready to flee. We keep a suitcase packed with a set of overnight clothes and toothbrushes in the bottom of our closet; we never buy too much for the apartment--­one wok, one tawa pan, silverware for four, so we always have to wash our forks and knives after eating. The story of our life, for so long. But this time, it's not the three of us, packed up, sprung and ready to go. Just her. I call out, "Wait! It's a mistake!" Ammi pulls back. Her face has gone hard. "Not now, Rania." I whimper. "In the morning, call Lidia. She knows what to do." That's our lawyer. My mother and I stare at each other. A staticky voice comes through the walkie-­talkie. "We need you down here. Another group. A van." "Roger that," the woman says. "I've got some collateral here too." Collateral. Ammi. The woman gestures to Lucia, who grudgingly comes and stands by our door. "You're over eighteen?" Lucia looks defiant. "Just turned the big twenty." "Can I see ID?" Here Lucia's bravado falters. She's undocumented. The whole family is. She fishes out an ID, the woman scribbles down the information, then gives it back. "Okay, you'll need to stay with them. We'll send someone to make sure your mother is serving as standby." The officer gently takes my mother's elbow and guides her past half-­opened doors and frightened faces. Kamal flings his arms around me, presses his head into my stomach. Lucia nervously picks at her fingers. Behind her toughness, she's scared. Just like us. She puts her hand on Kamal's back. "Thanks," I whisper. And then we are watching stunned as Ammi disappears down the stairwell, swallowed up in a mound of heads and shoulders. It's only after she leaves that it sinks in. This was a raid. An ICE raid. I wrench Kamal into our apartment, slam the door, and push down a sob. No. I can't break down in front of Kamal. Back in our bedroom, I nudge him into bed. Even though he's trembling and confused, he slides his bare feet under the blanket and turns his back to me. I rush to the window. Down below, several ICE agents mill in the hot glare of lights. One puts a palm on Ammi's head, steering her toward the back of the van. She glances up at me, to our window. I see her mouth move. Run, I'm sure she's saying. Run. Excerpted from We Are All We Have by Marina Budhos 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.