It's Raining Benjamins Read Online Free Page B

songs,” I say, changing the subject. Bubbles has got me annoyed now, and I figure it’s as good a time as any to bring up my new pet peeve. “Maybe they write them
together
?”
    â€œWhy?” Bubbles asks, smirking.
    â€œ
Porqué
—because—I don’t know. Maybe
we
could write songs together,” I blurt out.
    There
. I said it. Why
can’t
I write songs for the Cheetah Girls, too? How come Bubbles is the only one who gets to write songs?
    â€œWe
who
?” Bubbles asks, like she doesn’t get what I’m talking about.
    â€œ
Me
and
you, está bien
?”
    â€œChuchie … maybe you should stick with what you do best—”
    â€œWhat happened? How do you know what I do best?” I ask, getting flustered.
    â€œChuchie, the bell’s gonna ring for homeroom. And then we have to walk to first period before I can take off these wet shoes.” Bubbles is showing me how exasperated she is. But I know it’s just a way for her to blow me off. She doesn’t want to talk about letting me write songs with her.
    â€œOne thing you did really well—taking doggy poo off my shoe,” Bubbles snaps, putting me in my place. “Now I’m walking around like Flipper!” Bubbles starts walking to her desk, waddling like she’s got fins on her feet. Some peeps look up like she’s a little cuckoo, but I’m used to that. It’s not like we’re walking around unnoticed with all the cheetah-licious outfits we wear.
    â€œSo what? It’s not my fault the faucets in the bathroom are older than the Dominican Day Parade!” I call after her.
    â€œCan we stop talking about it now, please?” she says, sitting down and opening up her cheetah backpack. “By the time we sell these chokers, it’ll be time for a markdown sale or something!” she mumbles, not looking at me.
    â€œ
Está bien
,” I say, giving in. I never win fights with Bubbles. She
always
has the last word. Why am I even worrying about writing songs, anyway? We don’t even have a record deal! We’ll be lucky if we don’t end up headlining karaoke clubs and singing “Wanna-be Stars in the Jiggy Jungle” for the rest of our lives!

Chapter
4
    B ubbles and I are sitting in homeroom class, turning our heads really slow, so everyone can check out our chokers—especially Keisha Jackson.
    I’ll never forget what Keisha did on the first day of the semester: our homeroom teacher, Mr. Drezform, asked the class if any of us spoke another language besides English. A few students raised their hands—including me and Bubbles, of course.
    Keisha cut her eyes at us, like we were telling fib-eronis or something. Then, after class, she had the nerve to come up to Bubbles and ask her if she
really
spoke Italian. So now I’m not feeling Miss Keisha,
está bien
?
    Luckily, a few students smile at me as I crane my neck at them. I smile back, showing off the choker. Then I turn to my right and say hi to Daisy Duarte, who is supa-chili—and also Dominican, like me.
    â€œ
Ay, qué bonita
! Your choker is so cute!” she exclaims, checking out the “product.”
    â€œMy crew and I make them,” I say proudly. “Support a Cheetah Girl—come on, buy one, Daisy!” I egg her on, because we’re really cool like that with each other.
    â€œHow much?” Daisy asks, amused to the max.
    For a second I hesitate. Then I realize, Bubbles has already gotten busted once for pricehiking—by Derek Hambone, no less. So I figure we’d better chill, and I blurt out, “Ten dollars.
Está poco
, okay?”
    â€œ
Está bien
,” Daisy says, her eyes lighting up.
    I motion to Bubbles, who whips out a Cheetah Girls choker from her backpack and hands it to me. Since it’s my sale, I pass the choker to Daisy.
    Daisy looks as happy as my mom does at a garage sale. Her eyes are glistening, like she