An Appetite for Miracles Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2023 by Laekan Zea Kemp

  Cover art copyright © 2023 by Soni López-Chávez. Cover design by Karina Granda. Cover copyright © 2023 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Interior design by Michelle Gengaro-Kokmen.

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  First Edition: April 2023

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Kemp, Laekan Zea, author.

  Title: An appetite for miracles / Laekan Zea Kemp.

  Description: First edition. | New York ; Boston : Little, Brown and Company, 2023. | Audience: Ages 14 & up. | Summary: With the help of her cousin and their friends, Danna scours the city, searching for her grandfather’s favorite foods and hoping the remembered flavors will bring back his memories.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2022016377 | ISBN 9780316461733 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780316461948 (ebook)

  Subjects: CYAC: Novels in verse. | Grief—Fiction. | Dementia—Fiction. | Food—Fiction. | Families—Fiction. | Mexican Americans—Fiction. | LCGFT: Novels in verse.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.5.K46 Ap 2023 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022016377

  ISBNs: 978-0-316-46173-3 (hardcover), 978-0-316-46194-8 (ebook)

  E3-20230303-JV-NF-ORI

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Danna Alphabet Soup

  Shadow Puppets

  Dear God

  Raúl Nemesis

  Nobody Knows

  Lost

  Danna Sunday Cena

  Fault Lines

  Seconds

  Just Like You

  Lists

  Raúl Combustible

  Safe

  Masks

  The One

  Armor

  Danna Third Period

  A Haiku about Math

  Rescue

  Drifting

  Stain

  Raúl Spark

  Salvage

  Mr. Villarreal’s Granddaughter

  Mr. Villarreal’s Granddaughter Part Two

  Mr. Villarreal’s Granddaughter Part Three

  Danna The Boy

  Being Left

  Scared the Entire Way

  He’s Cute

  Being Cousins Is Not Enough

  Granddaughters

  Raúl Ghosts

  Alone

  Paper Cuts

  Hope

  Tomorrow

  Danna The Way to a Man’s Heart

  I Wish She Didn’t Know

  Our Little Secret

  Lunch Detention

  Sorpresa

  Raúl She Tried

  Coming Home

  Dancing

  Stretched

  Warmer

  Awake

  Danna Where Mami Used to Dream

  Deep Down

  The Princess in the Tower

  Monsters

  Trying, Trying, Trying

  Beautiful

  I Did It

  Raúl Fireworks

  Olive Branch

  Girlfriend

  Good Enough

  Jackpot

  Does She Have a Sister?

  Push Send

  Danna No Cookies for Breakfast

  Did I Ever Tell You?

  Thirty-Seven Minutes

  Hey

  Sweet Tooth

  Big and Small and Scary

  Falling

  Wings

  Treasure

  Raúl Si Dios Quiere

  Green

  Bad Influence

  Panties

  Danna Raúl Likes

  Raúl Hates

  Raúl Danna Likes

  Danna Hates

  Danna I Knew It

  An Introduction

  Clues

  He’s Here

  The Girl in the Mirror

  Labios

  Raúl On the Tip of My Tongue

  Old School

  It’s Not a Hymn

  Bad Dreams

  Empty

  Crisis

  The Sweetness Underneath

  F Is for Fucked

  Sleep

  Danna Shape

  She’s Wrong

  I Hear You

  Raúl Shit

  Danna Stress Baking

  Raúl Bomb

  Danna Mena’s

  The Cherry on Top

  In My Bones

  Strawberry Guava Ice Cream

  Right in Front of You

  You’re a Writer

  Midnight Snack

  Raúl Trigger

  Grounded

  Prayer

  It Helps

  Do-over

  Start Again

  The Next Terrible Thing

  Danna Just Another Monster

  Revenge

  Lengua

  Joy Like…

  Midnight Snack #2

  Raúl Lost

  Found

  Home

  DNA

  Lucky

  Bad Dream

  Numb

  Ask and You Shall Receive

  Pity

  Danna That’s Amore

  Not the World’s Best Pizza

  Moon Pie

  Chew

  Like Glue

  H Mart

  Mango or Strawberry?

  ¿Por Qué No los Dos?

  Dígame

  Straight from the Fruit

  The Pros and Cons of Falling in Love

  Raúl Report Card Part 1

  Report Card Part 2

  Report Card Part 3

  Healing

  Scared

  Chicory

  Tornado

  Dream-Maker

  Needle in a Haystack

  Not It

  Hope

  Bitter and Sweet

  Collar

  Cut

  Danna Break-in

  Nowhere

  Silent Alarm

  Baptism

  Bad Bitch Kit

  I Just Wish…

  Come Home

  I’m Sorry

  Los Cinco Sentidos

  Break Out

  Craig’s BBQ

  Another Gut Punch

  Two Beating Hearts

  Slow Motion

  Raúl La Virgen

  Kneeling

  Dead Stars
/>
  Mistake

  How You Pray

  No One Answered

  Present

  Perfect

  Danna Tapestry

  Between Bites

  Miracle

  Just in Case

  It Turns Out

  Callused

  Raúl Lies

  Enough

  How Small

  Holy

  Danna After All

  Moving Train

  Starting Now

  S’more

  High Alert

  An Island

  Raúl The Girl with the Cookies

  Mom, Meet Danna

  Next Time

  I May Have a List

  Heaven

  Danna Graveyard Picnic

  Roundabout

  Acknowledgments

  Discover More

  For my grandfather Marcelino.

  They took your name and so much more. But with every story, I’m taking it back.

  Explore book giveaways, sneak peeks, deals, and more.

  Tap here to learn more.

  Danna

  Alphabet Soup

  When I was little

  you fed me

  alphabet soup.

  You placed the spoon

  in my hand,

  showed me how

  to swirl the letters,

  scoop them up.

  D for Danna.

  G for Grandpa.

  I used my tongue

  to mash

  the shapes

  against the roof of

  my mouth

  while you

  sounded out

  each one.

  You showed me

  how to move

  them

  like

  constellations.

  How to stack them.

  Line them up.

  Jiggling puzzle pieces.

  You showed me

  how to ignite

  their sounds

  on the tip of my tongue.

  How to roll

  them around

  between my cheeks;

  chew

  on them

  between my teeth.

  In the bottom of that bowl

  we wrote

  poems.

  We told

  stories.

  And I know

  if you could just

  close your eyes,

  if you could just

  feel

  those textures

  on your

  tongue,

  if

  you could just

  taste

  those memories…

  Salty.

  Sour.

  Bittersweet.

  You could remember.

  You could remember me.

  Shadow Puppets

  Mami’s making dinner,

  which is never

  a good sign.

  But Papi’s working late tonight

  and

  Mami’s trying

  to write poems

  too.

  To arrange the ingredients

  just right.

  Using my grandmother’s

  old recipe cards

  to start

  a fire

  in Grandpa’s belly;

  to light the way

  to his heart,

  memories like

  shadow puppets

  on the walls of

  his mind.

  “Hand me the pomegranate,” she says

  with one hand raised.

  I watch her break

  it open and

  I remember once

  Grandpa

  told me that

  the apple Eve plucked

  from the Tree of

  Knowledge

  was

  probably

  actually

  a pomegranate.

  As Mami sprinkles the seeds

  on top of

  the walnut sauce,

  I pray there is still

  knowledge

  in them.

  I pray.

  I peer

  over her shoulder

  and say, “He doesn’t like parsley.”

  She doesn’t look at me.

  “You can’t have chiles en nogada without parsley.

  It needs to look like the Mexican flag.”

  So he’ll remember,

  I almost hear

  her think.

  So that if the ingredients

  aren’t

  stacked

  just

  right,

  maybe

  the

  colors

  will

  be

  the

  thread.

  Tying him back to when he was a boy.

  “Are you hungry, Dad?”

  Mami puts the plate in front of him.

  His spine

  curves.

  A question

  mark.

  And then I take his hand.

  Help him

  hold

  the fork

  like

  he helped me

  hold

  that spoon.

  I help him

  eat

  Mami’s poem.

  One bite

  at

  a

  time.

  Dear God

  I know our

  relationship

  is not

  supposed to be

  transactional.

  But.

  You are

  the one

  who invented

  an eye for an eye,

  so,

  maybe

  I can

  entice you

  with

  a good deal.

  Grandpa believes in you.

  Like, a lot.

  He always used to tell me to pray to you when I was scared.

  He said you were always watching over us

  and that all of our blessings come from you.

  I’m not so sure about that.

  When I won

  the class spelling bee

  in sixth grade

  it was because I studied

  for two months straight.

  Not divine intervention.

  And when I finally

  learned to doggy paddle

  it was because I practiced

  every weekend

  for an entire summer

  (after Mami threw me into the pool

  and told me

  to sink

  or swim).

  Okay,

  maybe

  it was you

  who dragged me

  back to the surface

  that day

  when I thought

  I was going to drown.

  In fact,

  I am willing to

  commit

  this to memory;

  to convince

  myself

  you saved me.

  I am willing to believe,

  If

  you promise

  to fix this mess,

  to take the broken pieces

  and put my grandpa

  back together.

  For this,

  I will give you my soul

  and

  my cousin Victoria’s too.

  (I can be very convincing,

  I promise.)

  I hear

  you like souls.

  And mine

  is pretty

  awesome.

  Love,

  Danna

  Raúl

  Nemesis

  The ceiling fan

  has become

  my archnemesis.

  In the dark,

  the gears grind.

  Like my teeth.

  Like the thoughts

  wedging themselves

  between

  me and sleep.

  Mrs. Perez’s c
at

  slides like a fish

  past my bedroom window,

  spitting at the moon

  I can’t see.

  All I have to do

  is get up

  and go to the glass.

  To lean against it

  and peer out.

  But I don’t want to look.

  I don’t want to look

  at a moon

  my mother

  isn’t allowed to see.

  Hasn’t seen.

  In seven hundred.

  And twenty-nine.

  Days.

  I reach for the stack

  of

  letters

  by

  my

  bed.

  I take one off

  the top,

  unfolding

  the thick paper,

  tracing the raised

  ink

  that has been

  raising me.

  For two years.

  Two years of

  “Sweet dreams, Raúl.”

  “Do your homework, Raúl.”