When Ava’s only friend moves away, anxiety makes finding a new social circle daunting.
Ava’s best friend, Zelia, has always been her prop and support. It’s tough being an 11-year-old with a pacemaker; the noncompaction cardiomyopathy she was born with (Ava had heart surgery when she was only 4) combines with intense anxiety to leave Ava self-loathing and socially isolated. Her dad teaches cotillion classes for sixth graders, and Ava, like her older brothers before her, is required to attend, to dance, and to make excruciating small talk. A girl in class invites her to an improv group, and Ava reluctantly agrees. To her shock, improv, which celebrates failure, is amazing for her anxiety. But the improv theater and the waterfront where it’s located are under threat from pricey real estate developers. Saving the area from gentrification will require a committed activist, though, and Ava can barely speak in public. Cotillion and improv give Ava tool sets to use to live with anxiety, and the cause gives her a motivation. The conclusion is optimistically uncomplicated, but in a story that successfully explores the complexities of chronic illness mixed with mental illness, the comfort is welcome. Ava is biracial, Japanese American and white, and lives in a diverse community; the vice principal and Ava’s therapist are black, and the mean real estate developer is almost stereotypically white.
Opens as standard living-with-disability tale, grows into a heartwarming story about a community discovering activism.
(author’s note, improv games) (Fiction. 9-11)