It's Raining Benjamins by Deborah Gregory Page B

didn’t you just say so?!” I type, gasping now for air. “Does that mean we got a record deal?”
    â€œNo, but it means they’re willing to spend some development money to put us in the studio, and see what kind of chops we’ve got! We have to meet Mouse Almighty and Freddy Fudge—the A & R executive from Def Duck—at the record label office on Friday at four o’clock. What do you think about
that, mamacita
?!”
    â€œI can’t believe this is true!” I type on the screen. Then I tell Bubbles all about Princess Pamela’s prediction—and about the dream I had.
    â€œIt’s definitely gonna start raining Benjamins now,
mamacita
!” Bubbles replies.
    â€œâ€˜It’s Raining Benjamins.’ That would make a great song title, no, Bubbles?” I type excitedly.
    â€œThat is so dope, Chuchie! I’m gonna start writing it right now! Powder to the People!”
    I sign off, too, and drop back down on the bed, smiling happily. And then I start thinking….
    â€œWhy does
Bubbles
always have to write the songs?” I ask myself. “How come she never lets
me
help write them?
I
wanna write the song ‘It’s Raining Benjamins.’ After all, it was
my
idea. I’m going to tell Bubbles, that’s what I’m gonna do.”
    I start getting so nervous about talking to Bubbles—because I already know that we are going to fight. Tomorrow night, we’re all going to the Times Square Tabernacle Church to see Derek in the “Mad Millennium” Fashion Show. (Bubbles agreed to go, to make up for what happened with the chokers. And then she made us all promise to come with her for support!)
    I’ll tell her then
, I promise myself. On the other hand, maybe I
shouldn’t
tell her…. Well, I’m sure not gonna tell her at school.
    I toss and turn, praying that I have another dream, and float away on a magical umbrella. But nothing like that happens. Why did I have to come up with that song idea, anyway? Now I can’t even be happy about the demo, because I’m so busy being upset—me with my
boca grande
!

Chapter
7
    T he next day at six o’clock, the five of us meet at Times Square Tabernacle Church on West Forty-third Street, to go see Derek Ulysses Hambone in the “Mad Millennium” Fashion Show.
    Madrina
gave us the money to pay for our tickets because she feels so bad about our “boo-boo” chokers venture. Once again, we’re wearing our Cheetah Girls chokers—but, as Bubbles jokes, “Let’s pray we don’t drop alphabets in the good house of the Lord!”
    We’re all in a good mood, because of the great news about Def Duck Records. Even me. I’m still kinda nervous about talking to Bubbles about writing a new song with her. But I made a promise to myself last night, when I was lying awake in bed, that I am not going to do
el pollito
, and chicken out. I swear I’m going to pounce at the right moment!
    I haven’t even spoken to Dorinda about this, since she just automatically sides with Bubbles when it comes to things about the group. That’s because she thinks Bubbles knows everything—which she doesn’t!
    Tonight, the twins especially are in seventh heaven about the news. But for a moment at least, when I first see them, my new hairdo distracts them.
    â€œHey, Miss Chanel,” Aqua exclaims. “Your hair looks
real
nice! Can I touch it? Ain’t her hair pretty, Angie?”
    â€œIt sure is. It’s so
looong
, Chanel!” Angie says, surprised.
    â€œWhat did you think, I was wearing a weave under my braids or something?” I tease the twins.
    â€œNo, but I guess we didn’t realize how
looooong
your hair really is.”
    As soon as she’s through checking out my new ’do, Aqua tries to milk Bubbles for every
poco
detail about the phone call between Def Duck Records and
Madrina
. “What did they say