morning, by the girls’ lockers on the first floor. I hesitate now. How am I gonna tell them I got this job? They’re gonna yell at me for not telling them sooner, and then—then, they’re gonna talk me into
turning it down
! They’re going to
hate
me!
Without even thinking, I walk over to the pay phone on the wall and deposit some change. I dial Ms. “Dokie Po,” as my foster mother called her.
“Hi, Ms. Dorka, it’s Dorinda Rogers. Yes. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be at rehearsal on Sunday. Yes. Ten o’clock. Thank you so much! Bye!”
Hanging up the phone, I feel instantly relieved. For better or worse, I’ve made my decision. There’s no way for my crew to talk me out of it now.
I know Mrs. LaPuma is right. It’d be better for everybody if I just go away somewhere. Better for Mrs. Bosco. Better for the Cheetah Girls …
I mean, they don’t need me, I tell myself. After all, Chuchie and Bubbles have each other, and Angie and Aqua have each other. Who do
I
have?
Besides, if this tour leads to more jobs, Mrs. Bosco can make room for some other foster child who needs a home. That’s probably what Mrs. LaPuma was trying to say, but she was trying to be nice about it.
As I walk toward the lockers, I can see Chanel standing with her back turned, talking with Bubbles. Actually, I see Chanel’s cheetah backpack first, and suddenly I feel the butterflies fluttering in my stomach again. They are the dopest friends I’ve ever had. How can I leave them?
When Chanel turns around, I see she has red scratches on her nose. I wonder if she and her mother have been fighting or something. I know Ms. Simmons is still upset with Chanel for charging up her credit card.
“Where’d you get the scratches, Cheetah
Señorita?
” I ask Chanel, trying to act normal.
“Kahlua’s stupid dog Spawn did it,” Chanel sighs, then starts twirling one of her braids, like she does whenever she gets nervous.
Kahlua is one of Chanel’s neighbors. Chanel doesn’t like her, because she says she’s stuck-up, but since Kahlua has a dog and Chanel doesn’t, she visits her anyway. Chanel loves dogs.
I ask, “What happened? Spawn caught you drinking out of her bowl?”
“It’s a
he
, Do’ Re Mi,” Chanel smirks. “And where have you been?”
“Wh-what do you mean?” I stutter. Suddenly, I can feel my cheeks turning red for the second time today.
“I called you
twice
last night, and spoke to Mrs. Bosco for a long time,” Chanel says, looking at me like I was a sneaky Cheetah.
“Word. She didn’t tell me,” I say, getting
really
nervous. I wonder what they talked about. And why didn’t Mrs. Bosco tell me? Maybe she didn’t
forget
to tell me. Maybe she didn’t tell me for a reason!
“I talked to her, too,” Bubbles says nonchalantly.
“You called, too?” I ask, squinching up my nose like I do when I’m confused. Sometimes the dynamic duo act like they are detectives or something.
“No, silly willy, we just did a three-way conference call,” Bubbles says, flossing about her phone hookup.
Right now, I can feel something is happening on the sneaky-deaky tip, but I’m feeling too guilty to ask them what it is. These two are definitely up to
something
. If I’m lying, I’m frying!
“We have a surprise for you,” Chanel says, then Bubbles pokes her.
“You’re always blabbing your
boca grande
, Chuchie!”
“What kind of surprise?” I ask. I get the feeling I’m being played like one of the contestants on “It’s a Wacky World” who finds out they’ve won the wack booby prize.
“Well tell you after school,” Bubbles says, winking like a secret agent. Then she pulls out her furry Kitty Kat notebook, the one that she writes songs in, and scribbles something.
“Why don’t you tell me at lunch?” I ask, trying to peep the situation.
That’s when Bubbles and Chuchie give each other a look, and I
know
something is jumping off!
“Bubbles is gonna help me study for my Italian
turning it down
! They’re going to
hate
me!
Without even thinking, I walk over to the pay phone on the wall and deposit some change. I dial Ms. “Dokie Po,” as my foster mother called her.
“Hi, Ms. Dorka, it’s Dorinda Rogers. Yes. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be at rehearsal on Sunday. Yes. Ten o’clock. Thank you so much! Bye!”
Hanging up the phone, I feel instantly relieved. For better or worse, I’ve made my decision. There’s no way for my crew to talk me out of it now.
I know Mrs. LaPuma is right. It’d be better for everybody if I just go away somewhere. Better for Mrs. Bosco. Better for the Cheetah Girls …
I mean, they don’t need me, I tell myself. After all, Chuchie and Bubbles have each other, and Angie and Aqua have each other. Who do
I
have?
Besides, if this tour leads to more jobs, Mrs. Bosco can make room for some other foster child who needs a home. That’s probably what Mrs. LaPuma was trying to say, but she was trying to be nice about it.
As I walk toward the lockers, I can see Chanel standing with her back turned, talking with Bubbles. Actually, I see Chanel’s cheetah backpack first, and suddenly I feel the butterflies fluttering in my stomach again. They are the dopest friends I’ve ever had. How can I leave them?
When Chanel turns around, I see she has red scratches on her nose. I wonder if she and her mother have been fighting or something. I know Ms. Simmons is still upset with Chanel for charging up her credit card.
“Where’d you get the scratches, Cheetah
Señorita?
” I ask Chanel, trying to act normal.
“Kahlua’s stupid dog Spawn did it,” Chanel sighs, then starts twirling one of her braids, like she does whenever she gets nervous.
Kahlua is one of Chanel’s neighbors. Chanel doesn’t like her, because she says she’s stuck-up, but since Kahlua has a dog and Chanel doesn’t, she visits her anyway. Chanel loves dogs.
I ask, “What happened? Spawn caught you drinking out of her bowl?”
“It’s a
he
, Do’ Re Mi,” Chanel smirks. “And where have you been?”
“Wh-what do you mean?” I stutter. Suddenly, I can feel my cheeks turning red for the second time today.
“I called you
twice
last night, and spoke to Mrs. Bosco for a long time,” Chanel says, looking at me like I was a sneaky Cheetah.
“Word. She didn’t tell me,” I say, getting
really
nervous. I wonder what they talked about. And why didn’t Mrs. Bosco tell me? Maybe she didn’t
forget
to tell me. Maybe she didn’t tell me for a reason!
“I talked to her, too,” Bubbles says nonchalantly.
“You called, too?” I ask, squinching up my nose like I do when I’m confused. Sometimes the dynamic duo act like they are detectives or something.
“No, silly willy, we just did a three-way conference call,” Bubbles says, flossing about her phone hookup.
Right now, I can feel something is happening on the sneaky-deaky tip, but I’m feeling too guilty to ask them what it is. These two are definitely up to
something
. If I’m lying, I’m frying!
“We have a surprise for you,” Chanel says, then Bubbles pokes her.
“You’re always blabbing your
boca grande
, Chuchie!”
“What kind of surprise?” I ask. I get the feeling I’m being played like one of the contestants on “It’s a Wacky World” who finds out they’ve won the wack booby prize.
“Well tell you after school,” Bubbles says, winking like a secret agent. Then she pulls out her furry Kitty Kat notebook, the one that she writes songs in, and scribbles something.
“Why don’t you tell me at lunch?” I ask, trying to peep the situation.
That’s when Bubbles and Chuchie give each other a look, and I
know
something is jumping off!
“Bubbles is gonna help me study for my Italian
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