Raisin Rodriguez & the Big-Time Smooch Read Free Page B

like the way she talks, people might think her stuff’s funnier than mine.
    Well, I guess the good news is that with Jeremy as guest editor, I can make sure I get to keep working on the cartoon strip with CJ .
    Â 
5:55 PM, EST
    Unless of course Jeremy takes it upon himself to make sure that I don’t.
    After school, Jeremy met me at my locker and asked me if I’d show him how to get to Lynn’s house. I was anxious to get there early so I could have a few minutes alone with CJ before the meeting started. The last thing I wanted to do was be slowed down by Jeremy and his Great Pumpkin head. On the other hand, it was as good a time as any to mention that I wanted to stay on the strip.
    Before we even stepped foot out the door, Jeremy had already come down with a horrible case of lecturosis, which is in the same family as talktoomuchitis but much harder to shake. Ideally, the patient should be quarantined.
    He kept using the word vision and saying things like “I want to get people re-excited about reading CoolerThanYou,” and “I’m exploring the possibility of turning this issue into a video game.” I was dying to tell him that he had way too many freckles to be using the word vision and that if he wanted to be taken seriously in the e-zine industry he should probably rethink using made-up words like re-excited. But he wasn’t even taking pauses. Then came this zinger:
    â€œHey, would you mind showing me what you did for the last issue?”
    I reached into my bag to find the cartoon strip, but it wasn’t there. Amid all the hair drama of this morning, I’d left it at home. Could bringing an iron too close to your brain be bad for your memory?
    â€œThat’s okay; you can go home and get it. I won’t count it as a lateness. This time,” he said, winking at me. For the second time today.
    â€œJeremy, I don’t need to get it. The new issue doesn’t go live until the end of the week. Roman can scan it in for us tomorrow.”
    â€œYeah, but I’d like to have a look at it today. Just to give me a sense of where we’re at.”
    He was one freckle away from sending me into a conniption. But I chose to look at Jeremy’s request as an opportunity. An opportunity to change out of my ridiculous boy suit and throw together something dazzling enough to call attention away from my fright wig before CJ got to the meeting and had a chance to get a good look at me.
    So I ran home, put on my chocolate brown velour sweatpants—the ones with the word bum embroidered on the bum. (Which would hopefully keep CJ’s eyes away from my hair—at least for as long as it took him to read it.) The matching velour hoodie (I could conveniently slip the hood over my head in the event of unwanted hair gazing). And the turquoise tank, which effortlessly pulls the whole outfit together.
    I slicked my bangs back with some gel and pulled my hair into a short ponytail. Then I let Lola run her hands over the top for added security. (Turns out small traces of fluffernutter and finger paint serve as the perfect elixir for unruly locks.)
    Feeling much better about the way I looked, I grabbed the cartoon strip, pretended not to notice Sam’s boyfriend, Sid, sneaking into the house through the second-floor porch, with his sexy rat’s nest hairstyle and low-slung jeans, and was out the door. I couldn’t wait to see CJ. I knew that the moment he laid eyes on me (or at least on my bum) he’d admit that he’d only used the speech as a cover because he was feeling shy. Then our love affair would finally begin.
    Unfortunately, by the time I made it to the meeting, all my plans had been foiled.
    There before me, at a little card table in a corner of the Weingarten basement, was a tragic sight. If it had been a scene in a movie, a violin would have been playing. If it had been a painting, it would have been dripping with black paint. If it had been an outfit,