With the Fire on High(73)
As to your last assignment, I did make up a recipe inspired by my name. Although Julio has told me before it means “faith,” I don’t think I understood why my mother might have wanted to name me that until this year. And so I decided to make a remix of flambé shrimp à la Emoni, because what better way to take a leap of faith than to set something on fire and trust it will not only come out right, but that it will be completely delicious?
I can’t wait to see you in a few weeks.
With love & a sprinkling of cinnamon, always,
E
Acknowledgments
It takes a village to raise a novel, and I’m thankful for the many hands that helped push this story onward.
First and foremost, to my team at HarperTeen, I’m so lucky you all take such care of my stories; I want to give special thanks to my incredible editor, Rosemary Brosnan, and my assistant editor, Courtney Stevenson. Thanks for ushering this book through the rough, rough, rough stages into the story I had been trying to tell. Thanks to Erin Fitzsimmons for giving me the prettiest covers a girl could ask for. Thank you to Bess Braswell, and Ebony LaDelle and the whole Epic Reads team, who have put so much love behind this book to ensure it finds the shelves of readers. Another special thanks to my publicist, Olivia deLeon Russo, who supports my wildest ideas for publicity and my need to bring my community to every platform.
I want to thank my agent, Ammi-Joan Paquette: I am lucky to have someone who is as fierce as she is kind guiding my way . . . and it doesn’t hurt that you bake the prettiest desserts, which may or may not have inspired parts of this book!
To Carid Santos and Amanda Nazario, thanks for reading my early and ugly drafts. Your feedback is invaluable, and I know this story reads truer because of it.
To Yahaira Castro, thanks for being my critique partner. I’m so glad you ask the difficult questions that allow me to get to the heart of a book.
To Clint Smith, I appreciate you, homie! Thanks for reading this between flights and always encouraging me to center empathy.
I want to give a special thanks to Frankford High School in Philadelphia, which allowed me the privilege of teaching summer school to their seniors in 2010. Although I did not know it then, that was the first seed of this story. My heartfelt appreciation goes out to Mr. Joseph Bradbury, who in 2017 allowed me to visit his class and kitchen so I could observe his culinary arts students in action.
Hermana Jessica Tirado, you have always been a lifesaver. I’m sure only someone who has gone through the experience can fully know what it’s like to be a teen mother, but I appreciate you sitting with this story and providing your thorough feedback. I hope I did it justice. And thank you for introducing me to Generation Hope. I know personally that the support they’ve offered so many young parents is immeasurable.
To my family, the Acevedos and the Amadis, thank you for reminding me what it means to return home. What it means to carry home with you across far-flung places. What it means to feed and love your people. What it means to come from magic. Thank you forevermore for supporting my dreams.
To my family-in-love: the Cannons, the Moyes, and the Cannon-Moyes, thank you for welcoming me to South Jersey and Ayden, North Carolina. For feeding me at Thanksgiving, for continuing our never-ending spades tournament, for sharing yourselves, and your stories, with me. And a special thanks to Nyjeri, for answering my questions about toddlers and for giving me such sweet and smart nieces; Zaria & Yara, I hope to keep trying to make the world safer and better for you, and to write stories that celebrate both your ferocity and your tenderness.
To my beloved, Shakir, here’s an ode to Philly haircuts, traveling the world, and the only adage that matters: if I eat, you eat. Thanks for never letting me doubt myself, for reading everything I write, and for reminding me to celebrate even the most simple Tuesday. I love you.
Ancestors: always. Gang, gang. Who would I be if you were not? What are my stories if not but a continuation of the threads you unspooled? What do I owe you if not everything? And yet, you remind me time and again I owe you nothing but this honest, brave, full self.
Pa’lante siempre.