Hollywood High Read Online Free PDF

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    â€œMmmph. More like Project Train Wreck. He looked a mess.”
    â€œOh really?” Captain Sticky Pants popped up out of nowhere, with his bullhorn to his side and his ostrich feathers blowing. He jumped in my face, snapped his fingers, and stomped his feet.
    â€œExcuse you?” I said and frowned.
    He wiggled his neck. “Yeah, ah, excuse you, boo-boo.” He tooted his lips.
    Was he trying to set it off?
    He carried on, “Oh, you wanna talk about Co-Co Ming. Well, let Co-Co set you straight, sweetness. The only mess-up in here is you and that crystal ball, oh wait. That’s your big-ass forehead shining like that. Don’t do me, Miss Stink-Stink! I’m the president of the Wu-Wu fan club and I—”
    â€œLittle Geisha boy, I don’t care who you are.”
    â€œWell you better care, Amazon.”
    Rich gagged, slapping her hand up over her mouth.
    I leaned over toward Rich. “Ummm, I’m still trying to figure out who this RuPaul wannabe is talking to.”
    Rich bucked her eyes. “Well, he definitely isn’t talking to me. Co-Co doesn’t want it with me. So it must be you, boo.”
    I eyed him. “What you better do is run along.”
    He slammed a hand up on his hip, then neck rolled while jabbing a finger in the air at me. “No, Sweet Cheeks, what you better do”—he snapped his fingers and stomped his foot—“is take your high-rolling, jungle-booty, trick-ass back to Dirty Jersey where you belong.”
    Oh no this back-alley Snow Cone didn’t!
    This was definitely not how I had expected my first day of school to jump off, but it had. And I was two breaths from sealing this boy’s lips shut. “It’s New York, Egg Noodle. Don’t get it twisted. And what you better do is skip along with all that finger movement in my face before you find yourself flat on your back looking up at the front of your eyelids ’cause I will shut your lights out in a New York minute. And you only get one warning. So take heed.”
    He snapped his fingers. “Oh, no, Miss Tuna. Put it back in the can”—he stomped his right foot again and placed a tiny hand up on his hip, waving the other hand in the air—“ ’cause I don’t do fish. So you better take heed. Or get the Co-Co Ming reading of your life.”
    I took a deep breath, glanced over at Rich. “I really don’t want to beat this Tootie-Fruity down, but he’s asking for it.”
    Rich smirked. “Well, girl. You’ve already warned him. So give it to him. He’ll learn.”
    But before I could decide what to do Co-Co Ming had grabbed someone’s pomegranate smoothie off the table and tossed it in my face. “Tootie-Fruity on that!”
    I blinked my eyes in disbelief as the cold slush clung to my lashes and dripped down onto my five-thousand-dollar blouse, staining the one-of-a-kind creation.
    â€œOh, no the hell he didn’t!” Rich snapped, leaping up from the table at the same time I did.
    â€œOh, yes Co-Co did,” he snapped back.
    Rich looked at me.
    I looked at her.
    And, before he could say another word, it was lights... camera . . . and fist rocking. We tag-teamed his behind. Punching, slapping, and kicking him. He started running. And we chased him down. I caught up to him first and yanked him by the back of his coat and swung him around. Boyfriend wind-milled his arms, but Rich came behind him and kicked him in his back. He stumbled forward, twisted his ankle in his heels, then it was on. Heels and feathers flew everywhere.
    The next thing I knew, Rich and I were being pulled off of him by four security guards and dragged out of the café. Here I was trying my damnedest to stick to the script and not like this girl. And there we were—two divas with our clothes tore up, hair all wild, heels broken off our shoes—being escorted to the headmaster’s office on the first day of