Bring It On Read Online Free PDF Page B

Those little dogs have to have cute names.”
    Maybe she was more stressed about the competition than she let on, Emerson thought, happy she’d risked saying something friendly, something sort of Sophie-ish. Maybe now that we’re in the group together, everything’s going to be okay.
    â€œI like your T-shirt.” Relax, Emerson, she ordered herself. You’re sliding into the pathetic zone now. I like your T-shirt. Jeez. In a second she was going to be telling Devane that she liked her socks. But Emerson really did like Brimstone127, and she didn’t know the group even had T-shirts.
    â€œIt’s not from the Stella McCartney collection,” Devane answered, her eyes narrowing a fraction.
    â€œThat’s what’s cool about it.” Emerson smoothed the sleeve of her Stella tracksuit self-consciously. “Brimstone127 is local. Probably only people in Miami have that T-shirt. I wish I had one. I love those guys,” Emerson said.
    â€œYou love them?” Devane raised her eyebrows. And there it was, that attitude again, like in the locker room. “What song of theirs do you love ?”
    Emerson’s brain went liquid. It was like she’d just been handed a surprise quiz in French. She loved almost all the Brimstone127 tracks. But she couldn’t think of one. She glanced at the front of the classroom. Where was the teacher? Wasn’t it time to get this class started? “Um . . .”
    â€œUm,” Devane repeated. She threw out her arms. “Anybody else want to give it a try? Anybody else want to try and name one of the Brimstone127 crew’s tracks?” she called, throwing the question out to the whole room.
    â€œâ€˜Me Against the World,’” M.J. and a massive guy answered at the same time.
    â€œYo, Fridge. Read my brain waves.” M.J. and the guy who seemed to be called Fridge bumped fists.
    â€œThank you,” Devane told them. She turned back to Emerson and lowered her voice. “You shouldn’t try to fake that you know what you don’t. It’s okay, they don’t teach everything at prep school.”
    And we’re back to her hating me, Emerson thought. There had to be some way to get them back to where they could joke around again.
    But Devane was already walking away.

    Not good, not good, not good. Translation? Bad. Sophie was about to be late to her very first class with the Hip Hop Kidz Performance Group. Way to make a good first impression , Soph, she thought as she rushed out of the empty locker room—and right into ill papi.
    Not just a little shoulder brush, either. A body smack. Way to make a good first impression, Soph, she thought again. “Sorry,” she muttered.
    â€œNo prob,” ill papi answered.
    â€œSorry,” Sophie said again, her mouth taking over as usual. “But I’m gonna have to call that guy on TV. That one with the comb-over who asks, ‘Have you or a loved one been in any kind of accident? Because the firm of Bad Hair and Associates and I can get you a generous settlement.’” Sophie shook her head. “Sorry to do it to you, but I need the cash.”
    Ill papi laughed, and that dimple of his got deeper. “I think that guy got his law degree while he was in prison.”
    And there it was. Yep. Sophie had just made herself another boy friend. Not to be confused with boyfriend. Not that she even wanted a boyfriend. But she wouldn’t mind knowing what it felt like to have a guy look at her the way guys always looked at Sammi. Especially if the guy was as H-O-T hot as ill papi.
    â€œYou one of the new peeps in the Performance Group?” ill papi asked.
    â€œYep. Sophie Qian,” she answered.
    â€œIll papi.”
    Sophie snorted. “Duh. Killingest dancer in the group. Son of J-Bang. I research the people I sue,” she teased.
    â€œYou’re whack.” Ill papi got the door for her, and they were both laughing when they