A boy from the hood in Brooklyn travels to a STEM camp in an Appalachian holler for one epic, life-changing summer. A brilliant new novel from the award-winning author of The Stars Beneath Our Feet. Javari knew that West Virginia would be different from his home in Bushwick, Brooklyn. But his first day at STEM Camp in a little Appalachian town is still a shock. Though run-ins with the police are just the same here. Not good. Javari will learn a lot about science, tech, engineering, and math at camp. And also about rich people, racism, and hidden agendas. But it’s Cricket, a local boy, budding activist, and occasional thief, who will show him a different side of the holler—and blow his mind wide open. Javari is about to have that summer. Where everything gets messy and complicated and confusing . . . and you wouldn’t want it any other way. J + C + summer = ∞ A Kirkus Reviews Best Book of the Year A Chicago Public Library Best Book of the Year ★ " Thoughtful explorations of issues such as corporate greed, the opioid crisis, water rights, and the little-known history of Affrilachians abound in this outstanding novel. An emotionally resonant narrative skillfully connecting the past, present, and future." — Kirkus Reviews , starred review " Explores serious and urgent subjects , including gentrification, class, environmental racism, police brutality and sexual identity. Moore’s sophisticated story raises as many questions as it answers, making the point that issues around American history, identity and injustice are neither simple nor straightforward."— The New York Times ★ "The joy and resilience of two kids coming into their own is satisfying. A highly recommended important purchase; both timely and timeless ." — School Library Journal ★ "Moore covers timely social issues in this richly wrought fish-out-of-water story that takes a 12-year-old Brooklynite gamer to Appalachia." — Publishers Weekly, starred review "Moore packs his narrative with themes and carries it all off with well-rounded characters , lively dialogue and action, and often beautiful sensory prose ." — The Horn Book ★ " Outstanding. Moore's thoughtful approach to big ideas is honest and his text attends to the topics in a way that allows middle-grade readers to understand and older readers to relate. Holler of the Fireflies is a feel-good book that still manages to go deep into heavy topics . Profound." —Shelf Awareness, starred review "A compelling and timely read." — Booklist DAVID BARCLAY MOORE is the author of The Stars Beneath Our Feet, which won the Coretta Scott King–John Steptoe Award for New Talent. David was born and raised in Missouri. After studying creative writing at Iowa State University, film at Howard University in Washington, D.C., and language studies at l’Université de Montpellier in France, David moved to New York City, where he has worked in film, journalism, and communications. David now divides his time between Brooklyn, NY; Los Angeles, CA; and St. Louis, MO. 1 Moms had warned me I’d get deep in trouble one day. I shoulda believed her. Today was that day. I hadn’t really wanted to ditch my family and ride to West Virginia. At least not until after William Dexter got stretched out on our concrete block in Brooklyn. After that happened, everything changed. Now the bald dude with the scar kept glancing back at me from the front row of my bus. The expression on his face said he wanted to carve me up like a turkey on Thanksgiving. I got tense and reached for my right eyelid. I always did that when I got anxious. Rubbing it, I sank down in my seat and stared out my bus window to avoid Bald Dude’s insane googly gaze. Outside on the highway, I read a sign: welcome to west virginia: wild and wonderful. Some comedian had spray-painted over it: DON’T DRINK THE WATER! They had so many trees down here. I couldn’t see not one tall apartment building nowhere. Out the window, there were only green hills and sleepy trees. For the gazillionth time since I climbed on a different bus this morning at Port Authority, I wished I hadn’t left home. I missed Brooklyn already. I missed Daddy and Poppa. And even though that noisy argument me and my moms had had made me eager to leave, I actually missed her and Shireen too. After a while, the big gray bus slowed down and rolled into a parking lot in front of an old gas station that was locked-up dark. The folding door at the front of the bus squeaked open. “Horsewhip Hollow!” the driver yelled back. I had arrived, finally. I stood up to exit and, of course, crazy Bald Dude with the scar stepped off right in front of me. This man, made a muscle and fat, musta been at least two feet taller than me. I was twelve years old, but short for my age, like my daddy. Bald Dude’s skin was pale and red in spots, not smooth and cocoa brown like mine. His looked like it’d been sunburnt too many times. The only hair he had was some brown stuff on his