They Call Her Fregona: A Border Kid's Poems

by David Bowles Narrated by Andres Zuno

Overview

A companion to the Pura Belpré Honor book They Call Me Güero

“You can be my boyfriend.” It only takes five words to change Güero's life at the end of seventh grade. The summer becomes extra busy as he learns to balance new band practice with his old crew, Los Bobbys, and being Joanna Padilla's boyfriend. They call her “fregona” because she's tough, always sticking up for her family and keeping the school bully in check. But Güero sees her softness. Together they cook dollar-store spaghetti and hold hands in the orange grove, learning more about themselves and each other than they could have imagined. But when they start eighth grade, Joanna faces a tragedy that requires Güero to reconsider what it means to show up for someone you love.
 
Honoring multiple poetic traditions, They Call Her Fregona is a bittersweet first-love story in verse and the highly anticipated follow-up to They Call Me Güero.


* This audiobook includes a downloadable PDF that contains a glossary of terms from the book.

Editorial Reviews

NOVEMBER 2022 - AudioFile

This poetry collection is a companion to THEY CALL ME GÜERO. Mexican actor Andres Zuno shines as the narrator. Middle-schooler Güero begins a romance with Joanna “Fregona” Padilla. As their romance progresses, they share their first kiss, hang out with their diverse friends, and meet the other’s family. Their bubble bursts when Joanna’s father is deported. Zuno has a slight Mexican accent that pairs nicely with the setting. He seamlessly shifts from the voice of a middle schooler to that of an adult without distracting listeners from the absorbing story. Zuno’s strength lies in the deep and complex emotions he aptly expresses for the diverse characters and their situations. In one passage, he beautifully sings a lullaby, infusing it with a sweetness that listeners will relish. A.M. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award © AudioFile 2022, Portland, Maine

From the Publisher

Praise for They Call Her Fregona
 
A Kirkus Reviews Best Middle Grade Book of 2022
A Center for the Study of Multicultural Children’s Literature Best Book of 2022
A Tom's Rivera Children's Book Award Finalist
A WASHINGTON DC Three Star Book Award


 
★ “Sublime.”
—Kirkus Reviews, starred review
 
★ “An unforgettable companion to They Call Me Güero.”
—School Library Journal, starred review
 
“Captivating . . . a linguistic feast.”
—Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon, for Shelf Awareness

School Library Journal

★ 09/01/2022

Gr 5–9—An unforgettable companion to They Call Me Güero. Many of the beloved characters who readers met in the previous work have returned in this story that picks up at the end of seventh grade. Joanna "Fregona" Padilla and Güero begin a tender romance at the start of this novel in verse. When Joanna's dad gets taken away by ICE, partly because of Joanna's bully's desire for revenge, Güero believes he needs to come to the rescue. He organizes a protest that has terrible repercussions. This book packs several heavy themes with nuance and respect for the age group. Racism and xenophobia go from background to foreground in their border town, which heartbreakingly affects their families and friend group. "Has this hatred always been here, waiting for the right moment to spew from the cracks in civility?" Güero painfully asks himself. The character development deepens further, and the interactions between the protagonists are relatable and complex. Other themes explored include the usual middle school fare—crushes, first kisses, exploring sexuality and gender, going to the movies with friends, and even starting a band with your best pals. The budding poet uses different forms of poetry to narrate this tale, which educators can easily implement in a poetry unit. There is diverse representation in Güero's circle, including Afro-Dominican, Korean, and gay friends. All other characters are primarily Latinx. VERDICT This resonant middle grade title has so much heart. Purchase for every collection serving tweens.—Shelley M. Diaz

NOVEMBER 2022 - AudioFile

This poetry collection is a companion to THEY CALL ME GÜERO. Mexican actor Andres Zuno shines as the narrator. Middle-schooler Güero begins a romance with Joanna “Fregona” Padilla. As their romance progresses, they share their first kiss, hang out with their diverse friends, and meet the other’s family. Their bubble bursts when Joanna’s father is deported. Zuno has a slight Mexican accent that pairs nicely with the setting. He seamlessly shifts from the voice of a middle schooler to that of an adult without distracting listeners from the absorbing story. Zuno’s strength lies in the deep and complex emotions he aptly expresses for the diverse characters and their situations. In one passage, he beautifully sings a lullaby, infusing it with a sweetness that listeners will relish. A.M. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award © AudioFile 2022, Portland, Maine

Kirkus Reviews

★ 2022-07-13
In Bowles’ superb companion novel to They Call Me Güero (2018), young poet Güero’s social consciousness unfolds as he navigates his first romantic relationship with the fiercely intelligent Joanna.

Seventh grade is ending, and Güero’s budding romance with Joanna is getting serious. From sharing their first kiss to meeting her parents during an awkward dinner, Güero commits to being the best boyfriend he can be. As summer unfurls, there are hangouts between Güero y los Bobbys and Joanna y las Morras, and Joanna carefully opens up to Güero. Güero even starts a band with los Bobbys! Eventually, fall arrives, and with it, eighth grade—and a drastic change as Joanna’s father falls victim to a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement raid. As her father’s fate takes a toll on Joanna, Güero grapples with dealing with his new teachers. Tensions flare between Güero and Joanna and even among Güero’s friends. Wanting to use his privilege for good, Güero organizes a protest on behalf of Joanna’s father, but the ensuing scrutiny tests Güero, his relationship with Joanna, and his community. This rich verse novel utilizes Güero’s humorous, witty voice to the fullest via varied poetic forms. The author’s deep consideration of Joanna and the other characters is a real delight and results in a story that feels rich in scope. The inclusion of topics like the justice system, detention centers, and changes in language adds further intriguing material for discussion.

Sublime. (glossary) (Verse novel. 10-14)

Product Details

BN ID:	2940178666982
Publisher:	Penguin Random House
Publication date:	09/06/2022
Edition description:	Unabridged
Age Range:	10 - 13 Years

Read an Excerpt

Los detallitos

“I’ll be your girlfriend.”
That’s what she said,
so I haven’t needed to define the relationship.

We make our feelings clear with detallitos,
all the little things that speak louder than words.

Like when I meet her outside of class one day and bend down to tie her loose shoelace.

Or when we’re walking home and I step too close to the road just as a semitruck speeds by,
and she yanks me onto the grass.

Or when we stop at the dollar store and buy ingredients for spaghetti,
which we cook together at my house because my family’s at the dentist.

Or when I find her standing alone one morning, a block from school,
looking sad, so I hug her from behind till she leans back into me, sighing.

Or when one of Snake’s minions trips me in the hall, but she catches me,
and everyone applauds as she slowly pulls me straight, looking into my eyes.

I’m a poet, but all these small gestures say more than any words I could arrange.
 
 
 
 
Sunday Morning at the Taquería

Our family is Catholic. Can’t eat before
Sunday mass because of the sacrament.
So we go to the early service,
stomachs rumbling,
and try to stay focused.

By 9:00 a.m., we’re hurrying out of St. Joseph’s, piling into
Dad’s pickup. He almost peels out,
making Mom click her tongue as he heads to Taquería Morales a few blocks away.

Most Sundays, the mayor and his wife are already eating—-
they’re Baptists, lucky ducks.
They can eat all they want before church.

Mr. Morales seats us, serves cinnamon coffee and orange juice in cups bearing the green logo of Club León, his favorite fútbol team.

We order. I get my usual, chorizo and eggs, with its sides of fried potatoes and beans,
which I spoon into fluffy flour tortillas along with salsa verde.

By this time, other parishioners come spilling in. Dad greets some,
ignores others, like his former boss.
Then in walks Joanna’s father,
Adán Padilla. I try a natural smile as he nods at my parents.

“Buenos días, Don Carlos,
Doña Judith. ¿Qué tal, Güero?”
I give a shaky wave and nod.
“¿Y su familia?” my mom asks.
“En casa. I’m picking up taquitos.”

Mr. Morales hands him a paper bag bulging with food. He pays and leaves.
Dad sips his coffee, shaking his head.
“A shame. That man should be a pillar of the town. Güero, you looked nervous.”

Mom’s left eyebrow arches the way it always does when she gets suspicious.
“Does he not know you like his daughter?”
I shrug, my face going red. “Not sure.”

I check my phone. No text from Joanna.
My parents mutter about new scandals and old gossip. I lean forward, trying to catch snatches, till Mom frowns.
“Cosas de adultos,” she says, flicking me back in my seat with her eyes.

“Do y’all know everyone’s secrets?”
I ask, still wondering why Dad used the word shame. He laughs.
“It’s a small town, m’ijo. And the nosiest folks are packed inside this taquería,
including you. Now, finish your almuerzo.”

So I take another bite. But my eyes wander across the crowded tables,
and my ears strain to hear past clinking and laughter,
the constant heartbeat of my community.
 


The Kiss

The next day,
first Monday of May,
Joanna and I take a shortcut after school through the orange grove near my house.

“You know,” she says,
letting go of my hand to wipe a sweaty palm on her black jeans,
“there’s just a month until school’s out.
It’ll be harder to hang out,
since my parents expect me to help them all summer.”

I stop. She turns to look at me.
There’s something in her eyes that I can feel with my chest,
which aches in a way I’ve never felt:
scary but good. Everything fades.

The sound of passing cars,
the harsh drone of cicadas—-
all drowned out by the beating of my heart.

The glossy green trees and bright, dimpled fruit—-
hazy, out of focus, until all I can see are her lips,
a red I can’t even describe:
dark, almost brown.

The color of mesquite pods.

Taking a shuddering breath that feels like it might be my very last,
I ask my fregona,
“Can I kiss you?”

She nods, slowly closing those big brown eyes.
“Sí, Güero. You can.”

So I do.
 
 
Her Song in My Blood

My heart thunders like a drum when our lips meet.

Above that rhythm
I can hear a new melody—-

notes from her soul slip into the measures of my heart.

When we pull apart,
all I want is to share that music,

to stand on a stage before the world and make them listen

to the vibrant, beautiful,
living pulse of her song in my blood.
 


They Call Her Fregona

Joanna Padilla Benavides.
That’s what her birth certificate says.

Padilla from her father, Adán,
who also gave her his love of cars and lucha libre and truth.

Benavides from her mother, Bertha,
who also gave her that wicked smile,
those beautiful brown eyes,
a big heart with quiet love,
a talent for math.

She’s Jo to the twins,
six—year—old menaces named Emily and Emilio.

Mama Yoyo to the baby barely learning to speak.

“I’ll kick your butt if you tell anyone,”
Joanna assures me, eyebrow raised.
“My lips are sealed,” I promise.
She gives me a quick kiss to make sure.

At school, of course,
they call her Fregona.

Most girls avoid her,
except for her cousins

and a few other friends who don’t quite fit in because of gender norms and queermisia.

Most boys are afraid of her,
at least the seventh—graders.

“I hate that nickname,” she admits.
“Güero is positive. People think of beauty.
Even the sounds are soft and sweet.
Fregona feels rough. Ugly. Like mopping or scrubbing grease from a dirty sartén.”

“You’re not ugly,” I tell her.
“And there’s no reason light skin should mean beauty. That’s wrong.
When I hear fregar, I think of the beating you gave that loser Snake Barrera,

how you stand up for family and friends,
how you own the fresas in Pre—AP Algebra.”

Joanna takes my pale hand in her deep—brown fingers,
calloused and beautiful,
like roots in sandy soil.

“Apá keeps pushing me to be tough—-
he’s seen what the world does to girls.”

She takes a deep breath. “He doesn’t want me to end up like his mother or sisters. Mistreated.
Ignored. And my mom’s a fregona, too.
I have big shoes to fill. Can’t let them down.

“But, ugh, being tough is hard. So thanks.
Seeing myself in your eyes? It helps.”

She looks up, shyly at first, then smiling like only she can smile. “And if Snake ever bothers you again, I’ll put him in the hospital. No one touches you but me.”

I put my free hand on the fist she makes,
giving her knuckles a gentle rub.

“Joanna, you don’t have to be tough when it’s just you and me. I see you,
through and through, all the soft and sweet parts, too.”

Her fingers unclench as she sighs and lays her head on my shoulder.

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