Excerpt from With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"'Buela, don't forget her snacks. Mamá Clara said we need to supply them every day. Oh, and her juice! You know she gets fussy." As I walk past 'Buela, I lean in real hush-hush. "And I also packed a little bottle of water. I know she doesn't like it as much, but I don't want her only drinking sugary stuff, you know?"

'Buela looks like she's trying to swallow a smile as she puts a soft hand on my back and guides me toward the front door.

"Look at you trying to give me lessons on parenting. Nena, please! Like I didn't raise you! And your father." 'Buela gives my back a squeeze, smooths the hair bunned up high on my head. "She's going to be fine, Emoni. You make sure that you have a good first day of school. Be nice to the other kids. Learn a lot."

I lean against her for a quick second and inhale her signature vanilla scent. "Bendición, 'Buela."

"Que Dios te bendiga, nena." She swats me on the booty and opens the front door. The sounds of West Allegheny Avenue rush in to greet me: cars honking, buses screeching to a stop, rapid Spanglish yelled from the corners as people greet one another, and mothers calling out last-minute instructions to their kids from open windows. The door closes behind me and for a second my breath catches in sync with the lock. Every simple love in my life is behind this one wooden door. I press my ear against it and hear a clap of hands, then 'Buela says in a high, cheery voice, "Okay, Baby Emma! Today you're going to be a big girl!"

I pull the straps of my backpack tighter. Give myself that same pep talk as I race down the stairs: Okay, Emoni. Today? Time to be a big girl.

Emma

I wanted to give Babygirl a nice name. The kind of name that doesn't tell you too much before you meet her, the way mine does. Because nobody ever met a white girl named Emoni, and as soon as they see my name on a résumé or college application they think they know exactly what kind of girl they getting. They know way more about me than they need to know, and shit—I mean, shoot—information ain't free, so my daughter's name isn't going to tell anybody any information they didn't earn. That's why I fought Tyrone tooth and nail to name her Emma.

"You just want her name to have the same letters as yours." Tyrone is a whiner.

"No. I want her name to sound less like either of ours," I said, and I don't remember if I kissed Babygirl's infant cheek or not. But I know in that moment I felt this huge emotion; I wanted to do whatever I could to give my daughter the best opportunity in the world. And although our names do have similar letters, mine is full of silverware-sharp sounds: E-Mah-Nee. Hers is soft, rolls off the tongue like a half-dreamed murmur.

Anyhow, Tyrone was late on the day I filled out the birth certificate, so Emma it was. I know a name alone can't guarantee new opportunities, but at the very least it'll give her a chance to get in the room, to let other people realize she's someone they want to learn more about.

Sister Friends

Angelica waits on the corner for me the way she has since elementary school. Her long dark hair has streaks the same bright red as her lipstick. She shuffles from foot to foot in the tightest leggings I have ever seen on a body.

I stop halfway to her and pretend to do a double take. "Girl, you about to give these boys a show! And it's only the first day," I say as she swoops her arm through mine and we walk in the direction of the bus stop.

"Girl, you know I ain't concerned with those boys. The ladies, on the other hand? I was social-media creeping and the summer did wonders for a lot of these jawns!"

I laugh and shake my head. "Does Laura know what she's gotten herself into?"

Angelica smiles and for a second she looks like the angel she's named after. "Aww, my boo knows I only look and don't touch. I just want her to know I can leave if I want to. I got options!"

Excerpted from With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo. Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Acevedo. Excerpted by permission of HarperTeen. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.