The Belles (The Belles #1)(119)

The hairs on my arms lift.

“We don’t want any. Thank you.”

The knocking persists.

Rémy puts a hand on his dagger.

“They’re the best in Matairie. Best in all of the Spice Isles.”

“Go out there, and shoo them away,” I say. Amber and I pull up our hoods.

Rémy opens the door. A cloaked woman stands there, holding a tray of yellow macarons. She reveals her face and I gasp.

Edel smiles back at us. “It took you long enough.”





Dear Reader,

This book contains my personal monster.

I started The Belles almost a decade ago, but it’s a story that’s been living inside me since I was twelve, long before I ever had dreams of being a writer, before I even thought that was possible.

When I was a pimply, puffy-haired preteen in the mid-1990s, I overheard a conversation at my local suburban mall among several men about their respective girlfriends’ bodies. They were thumbing through a popular magazine as they discussed how much better their girlfriends might look if they had longer and leaner legs, bigger breasts, different hair textures, a more slender frame, softer skin, and on and on, comparing them to the celebrities voted the most beautiful women in the world that year.

This conversation broke something deep down inside of me, and in that fissure grew a monster.

I checked out magazines from the public library and spent hours poring over the pages, dissecting the images and studying the women photographed. I housed my obsession in a secret little space inside my childhood bedroom. If you go in my closet and push back the clothes, there’s a tiny door made perfect for a hobbit, a reading nook built by my bookworm parents to foster my love of reading. But I used that little room to explore all the thoughts I was having about bodies and beauty. I cut out pictures of women I thought men would consider beautiful, and pasted them on the little walls: legs, breasts, arms, torsos, eyes, hair textures, skin tones, and hairstyles.

Over time, the walls held the wishes I had for my own body, and filled me with questions. What would I do if I could change myself completely? How far would I go? How ugly could it get, and why? Was there a way to be the most beautiful woman in the world?

The world of Orléans is built from the flesh and bones of that monster. It’s ugly, painful, unsettling, and oftentimes disturbing.

As uncomfortable as it might be, I hope this book pushes us to talk about the commodification of women’s body parts and the media messages we send young people about the value of their exterior selves, what is considered beautiful, and the forces causing those things to shift into disgusting shapes.

I haven’t been inside that little room since I graduated high school. I’m afraid to look up close at the monster I left behind. But maybe this book will help many interrogate the monsters that live inside us all.

Thank you for reading.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


This book has haunted me for almost twenty years, and so many people have helped me translate it to the page. It took a village and an army, and I’m eternally grateful.

I couldn’t do this without the support of my parents. Thank you for dealing with teenage me. Thank you for always saying yes and helping me chase my dreams. None of this would be possible without you.

The biggest thanks to my agent, Victoria Marini. Thank you for always going over every cliff and down each rabbit hole with me. Your endless support and enthusiasm and nudges and pep talks are the reason I’m here. Thanks for always having my back.

Massive thanks to my editors, Emily Meehan and her niece Annabel. Thank you for embracing my world, understanding its complexities, and starting this journey with me.

The largest and most massive and gargantuan thanks to Kieran Viola, who is the streamliner-of-bulls@$t, the fixer-of-broken-things, the brilliant, the talented, the most patient editor in the whole wide world. Thank you for understanding my brain, my anxieties, my neuroses, and the things I want to dig into. This book wouldn’t be the book without you. I feel so lucky. I am a better writer because of you.

Marci Senders, brilliant cover wizard, your design will change how little brown girls feel about themselves forever. You’ve changed the worldview of so many little ones who look like me. Thank you for this gift! You are profound. You are wonderful.

Thank you to the whole Freeform team: MaryAnn Zissimos (the magic maker who is the best champion ever!), Deeba Zargarpur, Anna Leuchtenberger (made me fall in love with copy editors), Seale Ballenger, Elke Villa, Holly Nagel, Dina Sherman, Andrew Sansone, Mary Mudd, and Shane Rebenschied. You are amazing and put so much love into everything you do. Thank you for taking such great care of this book and helping it find its readers.

Thank you to my We Need Diverse Books team. You are my people and I wouldn’t be here without you. Ellen, oh you are a force and you always feed me the most delicious Korean food and make sure I am powered up to do this important work. I will never leave you. Lamar Giles, thanks for always sending me Idris Elba pictures and helping me push through these deadlines. I appreciate you. Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich, you are the angel on my shoulder. Thank you for your wisdom, guidance, and friendship.

Thanks to all the folks who have had my back and given me so much love, support, and advice along the way: Zoraida Córdova, Marie Lu, Elsie Chapman, Nicola Yoon, Tracey Baptiste, Scott Westerfeld, Renée Watson, Adam Silvera, Karen Strong, Justina Ireland, Alex Gino, Preeti Chhibber, Laura Lam, Ann Marie Wong, Sabaa Tahir, Megan Shepard, Daniel José Older, Leigh Bardugo, Kami Garcia, Marie Rutkoski, Danielle Paige, Heidi Heilig, Elle McKinney, Amalie Howard, Gretchen McNeil, Nicole Brinkley, Jenny Han, Roshani Chokshi, Kate Elliott, Samira Ahmed, Rhoda Belleza, Veronica Roth, Tiffany Liao, Sarah Enni, Kate Hart, Brandy Colbert, Holly Black, Rainbow Rowell, Victoria Schwab, Miriam Weinberg, Tara Hudson, Lisa Amowitz, Kate Milford, and Anna-Marie McLemore.