Drawing Deena
Autor Hena Khanen Limba Engleză Hardback – 13 mar 2024 – vârsta până la 12 ani
Deena’s never given a name to the familiar knot in her stomach that appears when her parents argue about money, when it’s time to go to school, or when she struggles to find the right words. She manages to make it through each day with the help of her friends and the art she loves to make.
While her parents’ money troubles cause more and more stress, Deena wonders if she can use her artistic talents to ease their burden. She creates a logo and social media account to promote her mom’s home-based business selling clothes from Pakistan to the local community. With her cousin and friends modeling the outfits and lending their social media know-how, business picks up.
But the success and attention make Deena’s cousin and best friend, Parisa, start to act funny. Suddenly Deena’s latest creative outlet becomes another thing that makes her feel nauseated and unsure of herself. After Deena reaches a breaking point, both she and her mother learn the importance of asking for help and that, with the right support, Deena can create something truly beautiful.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781534459915
ISBN-10: 153445991X
Pagini: 240
Ilustrații: f-c jacket (spfx: foil & emboss)
Dimensiuni: 140 x 210 x 28 mm
Greutate: 0.34 kg
Editura: Salaam Reads / Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Colecția Salaam Reads / Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
ISBN-10: 153445991X
Pagini: 240
Ilustrații: f-c jacket (spfx: foil & emboss)
Dimensiuni: 140 x 210 x 28 mm
Greutate: 0.34 kg
Editura: Salaam Reads / Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Colecția Salaam Reads / Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Notă biografică
Hena Khan is a Pakistani American writer. She is the author of the middle grade novels Amina’s Voice, Amina’s Song, More to the Story, Drawing Deena, and the Zara’s Rules series and picture books Golden Domes and Silver Lanterns, Under My Hijab, and It’s Ramadan, Curious George, among others. Hena lives in her hometown of Rockville, Maryland, with her family. You can learn more about Hena and her books by visiting her website at HenaKhan.com or connecting with her @HenaKhanBooks.
Extras
Chapter 1
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CHAPTER 1
I wince as the sharp metal tool scrapes against my molars and pricks my gums. Claudia doesn’t react and continues to chat about her new puppy while she cleans my teeth. Her eyes don’t reveal any clues about whether I have any cavities. I’ll find out about that when the dentist comes in later, and I’m trying not to worry about it. Luckily, the puppy stories are distracting.
“Almost done,” Claudia says. Her eyes are clearly smiling at me although the rest of her face is covered with a surgical mask. “Doing all right?”
“Ohagghh,” I gag. I’m not sure if she expects an answer from me while my mouth is wide open, or if I’m supposed to blink in some sort of code—like once for “yes,” twice for “no.”
I’m leaning way back in a dental chair, wearing oversized orange plastic sunglasses, and facing the TV that’s mounted on the ceiling. There’s a SpongeBob SquarePants episode playing, but I can barely hear it between Claudia’s talking and the whir of the hose sucking out spit that’s collecting in my mouth. I know this episode though, since I’ve seen them all before with my younger brother, Musa.
“All done.” Claudia pushes back the bright light that’s shining in my face and raises my headrest. “What flavor fluoride would you like?”
I survey the choices. Mint, strawberry, or bubble gum.
“Strawberry,” I say, and Claudia reaches for the tub.
“No wait. Mint,” I correct, and her hand wavers. “I mean strawberry.”
“Strawberry it is,” Claudia says, ripping off the cover of the tub and sticking her swab inside before I can change my mind again. Making quick decisions isn’t something I’m known for. I always worry that another choice might be the better one, even when I’m deciding about something I love, like drawing. I can’t help but doubt everything I’m doing, like, is this the perfect angle? Should I make this bigger or smaller? Is this what I should draw at all?
Thinking about this reminds me that I have a choice to make for art class, for our next project. I’m making a portrait, based on a photo of my cousin Parisa. I took a bunch of pictures of her already but haven’t picked which one I’m going to use.
Once my teeth are coated in a film of strawberry goop, Claudia raises my head and pats me on the shoulder.
“You did great,” she says, winking at me. I take a deep breath. At least this part is over.
I’ve been coming to Falls Church Dental Care for as long as I can remember. And everyone here remembers me too. I’m famous for having tantrums during my cleanings as a little kid, and for kicking the staff who tried to touch my mouth. Claudia was the one who eventually managed to coax me into letting her work on my teeth by turning it into a counting game, and she’s been the one I’ve been coming to ever since.
Dr. Singh walks into the room next, and my heart begins to race. Last time I was here, six months ago, she warned me that I had the “beginnings of a cavity” and said I needed to “do better” with my home cleaning routine. I brush twice a day, but only floss every few weeks. I honestly want to be better. But after a few days, I always fall back into my old flossless ways.
“Deena, good to see you,” Dr. Singh says. Her long black hair is twisted into a neat bun like always and her gold hoop earrings glint in the light.
“You too,” I lie. Seeing her makes my stomach hurt.
“I want to show you something,” Dr. Singh continues, all business as she pulls up my X-rays onto a screen that’s mounted on the wall. It creeps me out to see the roots of my teeth glowing white against the dark background, like the jaw of a skeleton.
“Did that cavity grow?” I ask, feeling instantly defeated by the invisible monsters.
“No, that’s fine.” Dr. Singh points to my last tooth on the bottom row. “But see here, you have a tiny crack, in your back molar.”
“A crack? Whoa. How?”
“Remember I told you how you clench your teeth at night last time you visited, and that you should consider wearing a mouthguard?”
I vaguely remember that. I thought it was strange but didn’t pay much attention to it.
“Well, it’s something I strongly recommend now. I’m going to call your mom in here and discuss it with both of you, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, but my stomach hurts more now.
A couple of minutes later, Mama walks into the room, holding her purse, my jacket, my backpack, and an oversized water bottle. She bites her bottom lip and perches on the tiny chair in the corner.
“Does Deena have cavities?” Mama asks, shooting me a disappointed look before even hearing the answer.
“No, no, it’s not that,” Dr. Singh says cheerfully. “She has a small fracture in her molar, the result of clenching her teeth while she sleeps.”
“I’m sorry, she what?” Mama’s eyebrows come together, making deep lines in her forehead.
“It’s an involuntary stress response, and quite common,” Dr. Singh explains. “I recommend a custom nightguard, which will protect her teeth from further damage, and prevent jaw pain.”
“Stress?” Mama shakes her head like she doesn’t believe it. “What does Deena have to be stressed about?”
Dr. Singh looks at me sympathetically.
“Middle school, right? I barely survived myself,” she says, patting my arm.
I offer a weak smile back.
“And what about the crack?” Mama asks.
“I’ll have to fill that at another date. But we can take a mold of her teeth today and order the nightguard, which will take two weeks to come in.”
As Dr. Singh and Mama continue to speak about how much the nightguard and the filling will cost, I see all-too-familiar calculations taking place in my mother’s head. There’s no extra money for something like this. I know that. I feel my jaw tighten and run my tongue over my back tooth, trying to feel for the crack.
If I wasn’t stressed before, I am now.
CHAPTER 1
I wince as the sharp metal tool scrapes against my molars and pricks my gums. Claudia doesn’t react and continues to chat about her new puppy while she cleans my teeth. Her eyes don’t reveal any clues about whether I have any cavities. I’ll find out about that when the dentist comes in later, and I’m trying not to worry about it. Luckily, the puppy stories are distracting.
“Almost done,” Claudia says. Her eyes are clearly smiling at me although the rest of her face is covered with a surgical mask. “Doing all right?”
“Ohagghh,” I gag. I’m not sure if she expects an answer from me while my mouth is wide open, or if I’m supposed to blink in some sort of code—like once for “yes,” twice for “no.”
I’m leaning way back in a dental chair, wearing oversized orange plastic sunglasses, and facing the TV that’s mounted on the ceiling. There’s a SpongeBob SquarePants episode playing, but I can barely hear it between Claudia’s talking and the whir of the hose sucking out spit that’s collecting in my mouth. I know this episode though, since I’ve seen them all before with my younger brother, Musa.
“All done.” Claudia pushes back the bright light that’s shining in my face and raises my headrest. “What flavor fluoride would you like?”
I survey the choices. Mint, strawberry, or bubble gum.
“Strawberry,” I say, and Claudia reaches for the tub.
“No wait. Mint,” I correct, and her hand wavers. “I mean strawberry.”
“Strawberry it is,” Claudia says, ripping off the cover of the tub and sticking her swab inside before I can change my mind again. Making quick decisions isn’t something I’m known for. I always worry that another choice might be the better one, even when I’m deciding about something I love, like drawing. I can’t help but doubt everything I’m doing, like, is this the perfect angle? Should I make this bigger or smaller? Is this what I should draw at all?
Thinking about this reminds me that I have a choice to make for art class, for our next project. I’m making a portrait, based on a photo of my cousin Parisa. I took a bunch of pictures of her already but haven’t picked which one I’m going to use.
Once my teeth are coated in a film of strawberry goop, Claudia raises my head and pats me on the shoulder.
“You did great,” she says, winking at me. I take a deep breath. At least this part is over.
I’ve been coming to Falls Church Dental Care for as long as I can remember. And everyone here remembers me too. I’m famous for having tantrums during my cleanings as a little kid, and for kicking the staff who tried to touch my mouth. Claudia was the one who eventually managed to coax me into letting her work on my teeth by turning it into a counting game, and she’s been the one I’ve been coming to ever since.
Dr. Singh walks into the room next, and my heart begins to race. Last time I was here, six months ago, she warned me that I had the “beginnings of a cavity” and said I needed to “do better” with my home cleaning routine. I brush twice a day, but only floss every few weeks. I honestly want to be better. But after a few days, I always fall back into my old flossless ways.
“Deena, good to see you,” Dr. Singh says. Her long black hair is twisted into a neat bun like always and her gold hoop earrings glint in the light.
“You too,” I lie. Seeing her makes my stomach hurt.
“I want to show you something,” Dr. Singh continues, all business as she pulls up my X-rays onto a screen that’s mounted on the wall. It creeps me out to see the roots of my teeth glowing white against the dark background, like the jaw of a skeleton.
“Did that cavity grow?” I ask, feeling instantly defeated by the invisible monsters.
“No, that’s fine.” Dr. Singh points to my last tooth on the bottom row. “But see here, you have a tiny crack, in your back molar.”
“A crack? Whoa. How?”
“Remember I told you how you clench your teeth at night last time you visited, and that you should consider wearing a mouthguard?”
I vaguely remember that. I thought it was strange but didn’t pay much attention to it.
“Well, it’s something I strongly recommend now. I’m going to call your mom in here and discuss it with both of you, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, but my stomach hurts more now.
A couple of minutes later, Mama walks into the room, holding her purse, my jacket, my backpack, and an oversized water bottle. She bites her bottom lip and perches on the tiny chair in the corner.
“Does Deena have cavities?” Mama asks, shooting me a disappointed look before even hearing the answer.
“No, no, it’s not that,” Dr. Singh says cheerfully. “She has a small fracture in her molar, the result of clenching her teeth while she sleeps.”
“I’m sorry, she what?” Mama’s eyebrows come together, making deep lines in her forehead.
“It’s an involuntary stress response, and quite common,” Dr. Singh explains. “I recommend a custom nightguard, which will protect her teeth from further damage, and prevent jaw pain.”
“Stress?” Mama shakes her head like she doesn’t believe it. “What does Deena have to be stressed about?”
Dr. Singh looks at me sympathetically.
“Middle school, right? I barely survived myself,” she says, patting my arm.
I offer a weak smile back.
“And what about the crack?” Mama asks.
“I’ll have to fill that at another date. But we can take a mold of her teeth today and order the nightguard, which will take two weeks to come in.”
As Dr. Singh and Mama continue to speak about how much the nightguard and the filling will cost, I see all-too-familiar calculations taking place in my mother’s head. There’s no extra money for something like this. I know that. I feel my jaw tighten and run my tongue over my back tooth, trying to feel for the crack.
If I wasn’t stressed before, I am now.
Recenzii
"Through candid first-person narration, Khan (Zara’s Rules for Living Your Best Life) examines adolescent anxiety and its various triggers and depicts adaptive coping mechanisms, including making the most of mentorship and support from one’s community. "
"this book is written with an authentic middle school voice and blends culture, realistic worries, and mental health in a way upper elementary school and young middle school readers will appreciate."
"A sensitive look at the effect of anxiety and the pressures of today (including social media) on young people’s mental health."
*Khan skillfully weaves in cultural references and Urdu phrases alongside thoughtful questions about the arts, mental health, social media, parent-child relationships, and the pressures adolescent girls face about their appearances.
A nuanced and quietly powerful story.
"this book is written with an authentic middle school voice and blends culture, realistic worries, and mental health in a way upper elementary school and young middle school readers will appreciate."
"A sensitive look at the effect of anxiety and the pressures of today (including social media) on young people’s mental health."
*Khan skillfully weaves in cultural references and Urdu phrases alongside thoughtful questions about the arts, mental health, social media, parent-child relationships, and the pressures adolescent girls face about their appearances.
A nuanced and quietly powerful story.
Descriere
A Pakistani-American girl dreams of being an artist, struggles with anxiety, and learnes to stand up for herself.