Free It's Raining Benjamins by Deborah Gregory Page B

I see we’re back in the Cheetah Girls choker business.
    â€œLook! I already got the twenty dollars from Derek and Mackerel,” Bubbles says, jumping up and down. “We’ve got forty dollars now—and counting. Here, you two try to sell two each,” Bubbles commands me and Dorinda, handing us each a pair of chokers.
    â€œBet,” says Dorinda. She gives me a hug and smiles. I realize that Bubbles probably already told her that we talked on the phone this morning. Sometimes, Dorinda and I talk on the phone, too—without Bubbles—because I think of Dorinda as a sister now. But
not
a sister that I sometimes
hate
—like Bubbles!
    â€œYou know, we should figure out how much exactly it costs us to make the chokers, so we make sure to charge enough,” Dorinda says, all businesslike.
    Bubbles is right. Dorinda does have her eye on the ka-
ching
—the cash register. It’s really true!
    Bubbles gives Dorinda a look, like, “Hold up—
I’m
running this choker show,” which makes Dorinda squirm a little.
    â€œI mean, we should write down all the money we spend for materials, um, just to make sure,” Do’ Re Mi says sheepishly.
    â€œYeah—you’re right, we’ll do that later,” Galleria says, brushing her off. “For now, let’s just roll with the duckets coming in the bucket!” Bubbles has taken command again.
    We do the Cheetah Girls handshake together—but inside, I don’t feel okay about everything. I don’t think Bubbles is serious about letting me write a song with her after school today. She just said that to get off the hook.
    â€œJust a reminder, we have to meet Mouse Almighty and Freddy Fudge at the Def Duck Record Company office on Friday at four.” Bubbles is talking like
she’s
our manager now.
    â€œAre we gonna record?” Dorinda asks.
    â€œNot this time,” Galleria tells her. “We’re just meeting with the producer, so he can get to know us, and check out our vibe. The way the record company executive explained it, we’re just going there for a ‘meet and greet.’ After Mouse gets a feel for our flavor, he goes out and shops around for songs he thinks are right for us. Then he puts us in a studio to record them, and cut a mini demo tape.”
    â€œWord!” Dorinda says, squinting her eyes. You can tell she’s really interested in how everything works.
    â€œWhere do we have to go?” I ask.
    â€œThey have a New York office at Thirty Rock.”
    â€œ
Where
?” I ask again, annoyed. I mean, we’re not going mountain climbing,
está bien
?
    â€œThirty Rockefeller Plaza, Chuchie—right by the ice skating rink where we used to go, back in the junior high school days.”
    â€œOkay, Bubbles—I didn’t understand what you were saying,” I hiss at her.
    Dorinda looks at us like, “Don’t you two start again!”
    Today, my last class of the day is Italian, which I don’t really like at all. See, it’s kinda hard, and I’m not that good with languages—except for Spanish and English. Two is enough,
está bien
? I’m only taking Italian because Bubbles made me do it. I wanted to take Spanish, but she got really upset with me.
    â€œChuchie, you
are
Spanish,” she protested—which made me feel guilty, because it is
la verdad
. But why shouldn’t I take a class that’s easy for a change—
para un cambio
? It’s not like Bubbles is helping me with my homework—even though I haven’t asked her. But then again, why
should
I have to ask? She should
know
I need help!
    I’m not listening to my teacher, Mr. Lepidotteri, because I’m too busy trying to write the words to “It’s Raining Benjamins.” It makes me feel so cool—
tan coolio
—that I am writing a song. Okay—
trying
to write a song.
    Now I’m frustrated, though. I wanted to