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Product Description An Indian American girl navigates prejudice in her small town and learns the power of her own voice in this brilliant gem of a middle grade novel full of humor and heart, perfect for fans of Front Desk and Amina’s Voice. As the only Indian American kid in her small town, Lekha Divekar feels like she has two versions of herself: Home Lekha, who loves watching Bollywood movies and eating Indian food, and School Lekha, who pins her hair over her bindi birthmark and avoids confrontation at all costs, especially when someone teases her for being Indian. When a girl Lekha’s age moves in across the street, Lekha is excited to hear that her name is Avantika and she’s Desi, too! Finally, there will be someone else around who gets it. But as soon as Avantika speaks, Lekha realizes she has an accent. She’s new to this country, and not at all like Lekha. To Lekha’s surprise, Avantika does not feel the same way as Lekha about having two separate lives or about the bullying at school. Avantika doesn’t take the bullying quietly. And she proudly displays her culture no matter where she is: at home or at school. When a racist incident rocks Lekha’s community, Lekha realizes she must make a choice: continue to remain silent or find her voice before it’s too late. Review “[A] charming novel [that] explores the complexity of immigration and identity.” —TeenVogue “Addresses important issues of racism, colorism, and xenophobia through a well-drawn narrator whose political evolution is fascinating to watch.” —Kirkus Reviews “A tender depiction of a young girl navigating prejudice and finding ways to be her whole self in the process.” —SLJ “Kelkar illuminates the need for voices raised against discrimination and paints a convincing portrait of a girl straddling two cultures.” —Publishers Weekly “Succeeds valiantly at exposing the conflicted loyalties felt by many children of immigrants.” —Shelf Awareness “A story that desi outcasts throughout the country can empathize with.” —Booklist About the Author Born and raised in the Midwest, Supriya Kelkar learned Hindi as a child by watching three Hindi movies a week. She is a screenwriter who has worked on the writing teams for several Hindi films and one Hollywood feature. Supriya’s books include Ahimsa, The Many Colors of Harpreet Singh, American as Paneer Pie, and That Thing about Bollywood, among others. Visit her online at SupriyaKelkar.com. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter One chapter ONE It’s funny how something as small as a dot could matter so much. But it did. Most Desi kids I knew had been asked about it at some point in their lives. “Do you have a dot?” “Where’s your dot?” “Why do you guys have dots on your forehead?” It was kind of annoying. But I didn’t know any Desi kids who had to walk around with a bindi on their forehead at all times. I had to, though. For eleven years and counting. That’s because mine was a birthmark. A bindi-size, dark-brown freckle that I couldn’t take off. And that was really annoying. But despite how much I wanted to forget my permanent bindi at school, I loved looking at the real bindis I had at home. And on this Friday night, I was staring at the mother lode. Ignoring the cobwebs draped around my dimly lit basement, I sifted through white packets full of bindis of every color and size. There were neon circles; jewel-tone diamonds; pastel, snakelike swirls; and metallic, oblong spears. While I loved staring at the glimmering bindis, they weren’t what I was looking for. I broke free of their hypnotic spell and peered into the box full of knickknacks from India. There were glittery bangles, shimmering decorative cloth with hundreds of tiny mirrors sewn into the embroidered cotton, and sparkling gold and red coasters. We clearly liked shiny things. It was the Desi way. I paused at my permanent bindi’s reflection in the mirrors of a soft blue pillowcase. I quickly adjusted the long diag