Free The Princess of Las Pulgas by C. Lee McKenzie

what
happened?”
    I’m not sure he’s talking
to me, but when I point to my chest and lift my eyebrows into a
question, he leans over his desktop. “Katy got herself in another
fight. This time it’s bad.”
    I shrug because I care zero
that Katy got in any fight. Second, I don’t get what he means by
bad, but I like seeing her desk empty. I won’t get any scorching
looks if I open my mouth during class.
    The first bell clangs and
students pile through the door. Mr. Smith walks to his desk and as
the final bell rings he writes, Desdemona on the board. “Most of you
have heard that our star will not be able to continue in the play,
so again we will be casting a lead role in Othello. This is a
perfect opportunity for those extra credits some of you need in
this class.” He takes a long time to scan the room. The guys don’t
hide behind books this time. The girls do, except for me because,
of course, I’m not the Desdemona type and I don’t really need extra
credit.
    “Our pool of actresses from
our class is quite small as you know.” His eyes stop at each of the
girls who aren’t in the play or on the stage crew as if he’s
remembering why they can’t take the role. “Work and family do take
priority.”
    I’m filling the time, doing
some high level math in my head, calculating the number of days
before the end of school when Mr. Smith says, “Miss Edmund. You are
new to our school and this would be a wonderful opportunity for you
to become acquainted with your classmates. Would you consider
taking on this challenging role for us?”
    My mouth is open and my
face must resemble that painting with the crazed guy
screaming.
    Jamal pats my shoulder.
“Told you. You got the hot seat.”
    “I can’t. Uh, I really
can’t. I—”
    “How come?” Dolores with
her quiet voice shuts me up.
    “Well, because—”
    “You got a job after
school?” Jamal asks.
    I shake my head,
no.
    “You would make our class
fundraiser possible. The students and I would appreciate your
effort.” Mr. Smith gives me a “how about it” look, and his honeyed
voice flows into the room. “With the money we raise we can paint
the auditorium this year. It’s in need of some . . . redecorating,
isn’t that right class?”
    A chorus of agreement fills
the room. When I glance behind me Juan grins as if he’s just set a
foolproof trap. Chico licks his lips. Arrg . Anthony looks first at Juan
and then at me. I sense a plot to get the Channing
transfer.
    Jamal pats my shoulder
again. “I got two parts and I work the stage crew. Alls you got is
one part.”
    “All . . . right.” I close
my eyes and let the scream loose inside my head.
     
    The house phone rings
Saturday morning before I’ve dressed. I ignore it at first, then I
remember that’s the only phone I have now. The call could be for
me.
    “So how’s the new school?”
Sean’s voice sounds like home and the promise of something
wonderful.
    “It’s okay.” I almost
choke. There's nothing that’s anywhere near okay. “One week under
my belt. I’m getting used to it.” I leave out that Mr. Smith
coerced me into playing Desdemona in the spring play after Katy
broke her leg in a street fight and is on crutches—that I’ve
discovered Katy is really K.T. and her initials are tattooed on the
back of her neck— that she shoves her way past me when there’s
plenty of room not to. I also don’t mention that Othello is the Las
Pulgas junior class fund-raiser, something I’m supposed to tell
absolutely every living soul, according to Mr. Smith.
    For a second I close my
eyes, but instead of Sean it’s Juan Pacheco in his Othello role I
see, his dark eyes on my face, his deep voice saying, “‘Farewell,
my Desdemona. I’ll come to thee straight.’” I shake my head as if I
can clear the image.
    “Can you talk to my mom
about getting used to change? She’s super ticked because I’m not
moving back to New York after graduation, so she’s working on
making life a