The "Not Just Another Smile" factor
If your kid has already burned through every Raina Telgemeier book on the shelf, you know the drill. They want stories about the mortification of existing in a middle school hallway. The Tryout fits that vibe perfectly, but it adds a layer of grit that some of the more "sanitized" school stories skip. It’s a graphic memoir, which means Christina Soontornvat isn't just making up relatable scenarios; she’s excavating her own 1990s Texas childhood.
The art by Joanna Cacao captures that specific "wide-eyed but terrified" look that defines seventh grade. While the cheerleading tryout is the engine of the plot, the fuel is the desperate need to find a place to belong when the environment is subtly (and sometimes overtly) telling you that you don’t.
Small-town friction
The Texas setting isn't just window dressing. It creates a specific kind of pressure cooker. In a big city, being the "only one" is rare; in Christina’s small town, it’s her daily reality. The book is fearless about showing how microaggressions actually work. It’s not always a big, dramatic confrontation. Sometimes it’s just a classmate who refuses to learn your name or a teacher who stays silent when a kid uses a slur.
This isn't a "teachable moment" book where a character gives a speech and everyone learns a lesson. It’s a lived-experience book. Reading it feels like sitting in the back of the cafeteria, watching the social gears grind. For kids who feel like they’re constantly translating themselves for the benefit of others, seeing Christina navigate this is validating in a way a standard fiction book rarely manages.
When friendship becomes a zero-sum game
The most stressful part of the book isn't actually the cheerleading choreography. It’s the tension between Christina and her best friend, Megan. We’ve all seen the "mean girl" trope where a popular kid bullies a protagonist. This is more interesting because the "antagonist" is often just the situation itself.
When there are only a few spots on the squad, your best friend becomes your direct competition. The book captures that ugly, internal jealousy that kids feel but rarely want to admit to. It asks a tough question: Can you truly root for your friend when their success might mean your failure?
Why it sticks
If your kid is into sports stories or "making the team" narratives, they’ll dig the technical side of the tryouts. But the reason this one stays on the nightstand is the honesty of the ending. It doesn't lean on a cheap, feel-good resolution where everyone gets a trophy. It’s more about the internal shift—learning that you can be "brave" even if you don't get the specific thing you were chasing. It’s a great pick for the kid who is currently obsessed with "fitting in" but needs a reminder that the world is much bigger than their middle school gym.
