{"product_id":"undisclosed-isbn-9781536239348","title":"Undisclosed","description":"\u003cb\u003eAn undercover spy seizes the spotlight to avoid exposure in the gripping third installment of Aya de León’s\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003eaward-winning Factory series. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTeen spy Amani Kendall’s first solo mission seems straightforward: to befriend Danielle, the angry, grieving daughter of a former Factory operative, and prevent her from blowing an agent’s cover and exposing the Factory—an international organization of spies safeguarding people of color—to the world. But in order to get close, Amani will have to step onstage and win a place in Danielle’s band and at the elite summer camp hosting the “Next Teen Sensation” competition. Meanwhile, the band's charming bassist falls head over heels for Amani, who is not sure whether to be flattered or overwhelmed. Add in an increasingly volatile Danielle, a nefarious billionaire sponsor, the pandemonium that surrounds a K-pop supergroup, and an industry that thrives on fatphobia and racism, and it will take all of Amani’s wits and spycraft to keep her mission on track. In a riveting companion book to \u003ci\u003eUndercover Latina\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eUntraceable, \u003c\/i\u003ea seasoned suspense writer explores the intersection of the personal and the political with rapid-fire intrigue.With its diverse cast and enriching, seamlessly interwoven conversations about Blackness and fatphobia, this story infuses thoughtful reflection into the fun and action. . . . Entertaining from beginning to end.\u003cbr\u003e—Kirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e[A] bopping body-positive adventure.\u003cbr\u003e—School Library Journal\u003cb\u003eAya de León\u003c\/b\u003e is the AfroLatina author of \u003ci\u003eUndercover Latina\u003c\/i\u003e and\u003ci\u003e Untraceable\u003c\/i\u003e, set in the same world as \u003ci\u003eUndisclosed,\u003c\/i\u003e as well as several suspense novels for adults and \u003ci\u003eThe Mystery Woman in Room Three\u003c\/i\u003e, a free serialized online novel about two undocumented Dominican teens who uncover a kidnapping plot to stop the Green New Deal. She teaches creative writing at the University of California, Berkeley, and is active in movements for racial, gender, and climate justice. She lives in Northern California.\u003cb\u003ePrologue\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eMillston, Georgia\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI was running out of air.\u003cbr\u003eUsually, I appreciated my body more in the water than on land. The curves in my hips, thighs, and torso were guaranteed to help me float. But floating was exactly what I \u003ci\u003edidn’t \u003c\/i\u003ewant right now. Because somewhere above me was a guy with a gun, an angry young man who was looking for me. And the only thing hiding me was the cold Georgia river.\u003cbr\u003eI huddled in a tight ball beneath the surface, my heart beating wildly. In scary situations, I usually inhale and exhale slowly to calm myself, but not being able to breathe was precisely my problem. My lungs started to burn with the lack of oxygen, and I felt frantic to take a breath.\u003cbr\u003eI didn’t know if the gunman could see me in the water or not. Maybe staying beneath the surface would keep me safe from the bullets, but I didn’t have gills. I needed to go up for air or I’d drown.\u003cbr\u003eUnclenching my body, I said a silent prayer and kicked toward the surface, to whatever glinting metal fate might await me there.\u003cbr\u003eThe mission wasn’t supposed to involve water or guns. It was supposed to be a simple heist, with multiple contingency plans to keep everyone safe. I didn’t even have the most dangerous role. It had all started the afternoon before . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’d like to register to vote,” I told the lady with stiff hair and a slightly sour expression.\u003cbr\u003eI slid my passport across the counter, and she peered at it through a pair of glasses on a chain around her neck. It wasn’t really my passport; my name is Amani Kendall, and this was Denita Burrell’s passport. But it had my photograph and today’s date, putting me at exactly eighteen years old.\u003cbr\u003eThe stiff-haired lady peered at me over her glasses. I was only fifteen, so I had on glasses of my own and makeup to make me look older. I was tall and plus-size, so no one had thought I was younger than my age since I had made it to double digits.\u003cbr\u003eI saw my reflection in her lenses: oval brown face, large eyes, eager smile—a newly eighteen-year-old Black girl excited to be enfranchised.\u003cbr\u003eAnd even though the passport wasn’t mine, it was as real as could be. I work for an organization that had had someone at the actual passport office make it and put it in the government files.\u003cbr\u003eWhich is why it was so outrageous when she handed the passport back to me. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We only accept Georgia identification.”\u003cbr\u003e“Excuse me?” I asked. “This is a United States passport.”\u003cbr\u003e“It was issued in Los Angeles,” she said, “which is a far cry from Millston, Georgia.”\u003cbr\u003e“But all my residence documentation is in order,” I argued.\u003cbr\u003e“I’m sorry,” she said. “Come back when you have a state ID. Next!”\u003cbr\u003eShe beckoned to a white woman with two kids behind me, and I stepped to the side.\u003cbr\u003eThe glasses lady had done the exact thing we had expected her to do, the thing I was there to catch her doing. And I had. In the upper corners of my glasses’ round frames were two smooth blue stones, and the one on the left was a fully functional video camera. The oversize eyewear worked triple duty. The glasses made me look older, they disguised my face a bit, and most important, they were documenting this outrageous voter suppression.\u003cbr\u003eI should have been triumphant, but instead I was furious. How many other Black people had come into this government office and been turned down?\u003cbr\u003e• • •\u003cbr\u003e“It’s perfect!” my dad said later that night as he and my mom reviewed the footage from the glasses cam.\u003cbr\u003eMy father, mother, and I sat at the kitchen table in a house the Factory had rented for us—a cozy bungalow on a tree-lined street, only a short walk from the county office.\u003cbr\u003eI sat beside my dad. He was taller than me, with a long and lean figure. For this assignment, he was clean-shaven, with his hair cut in a low fade. The haircut was supposed to make him look serious, but right now, his face was all excitement.\u003cbr\u003e“Look at this,” he said, pointing to the video. “You really linger on your brown hands setting the passport on the desk, but your thumb is covering the perfect amount of your face in the photo.” He grinned across the table at Mom. “We’ll totally be able to use this.”\u003cbr\u003eMom was brushing out her wig on a Styrofoam wig head. It looked like I was facing two women: above was Mom, with her hair cornrowed back; below was the second head, a ghost-white face that implied features, the wig straight and brown, with just a bump of curl where it grazed the table.\u003cbr\u003e“Agreed,” my mother said. “Are you all ready for part two?”\u003cbr\u003eDad and I nodded. Our family worked as a team for the Factory, an international espionage agency dedicated to fighting racism, and this was our first mission in the South. We were investigating reports of voter suppression in Georgia. Not only were people of color being turned away from registering to vote, but we suspected that this same county office was also destroying many of the voter registration forms that they accepted.\u003cbr\u003eMom turned the wig around to inspect it. She nodded and set down the brush. “Get some rest,” Mom said. “We have a big day tomorrow.”","brand":"Candlewick","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233812459749,"sku":"NP9781536239348","price":19.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781536239348.jpg?v=1767743236","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/undisclosed-isbn-9781536239348","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}