Perfect Chemistry 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

class.
    Brittany flashes me a triumphant smile, thinking she's won this
    round. Guess again, gringa.
    I sit up in my chair while the class remains silent.
    "This is Brittany Ellis," I say, all eyes now focused on me. "This
    summer she went to the mall, bought new clothes so she could expand
    her wardrobe, and spent her daddy's money on plastic surgery to
    enhance her, ahem, assets."
    It might not be what she wrote, but it's probably close enough to
    the truth. Unlike her introduction of me.
    Chuckles come from mis cuates in the back of the class, and
    Brittany is as stiff as a board beside me, as if my words hurt her
    precious ego. Brittany Ellis is used to people fawning all over her and
    she could use a little wake-up call. I'm actually doing her a favor. Little
    does she know I'm not finished with her intro.
    "Her secret desire," I add, getting the same reaction as she did
    during her introduction, "is to date a Mexicano before she graduates."
    As expected, my words are met by comments and low whistles from
    the back of the room.
    "Way to go, Fuentes," my friend Lucky barks out.
    "I'll date you, mamacita," another says.
    I give a high five to another Latino Blood named Marcus sitting
    behind me just as I catch Isa shaking her head as if I did something
    wrong. What? I'm just having a little fun with a rich girl from the
    north side.
    Brittany's gaze shifts from Colin to me. I take one look at Colin and
    with my eyes tell him game on. Colin's face instantly turns bright red,
    resembling a chile pepper. I have definitely invaded his territory. Good.
    "Quiet down, class," Peterson says sternly. "Thank you for those
    very creative and . . . enlightening introductions. Miss Ellis and Mr.
    Fuentes, please see me after class."
    "Your introductions were not only appalling, they were
    disrespectful to me and the rest of your classmates," Peterson says
    after class as Brittany and I stand in front of her desk. "You have a
    choice." Our teacher holds out two blue detention slips in one hand and
    two pieces of notebook paper in the other. "You can either serve
    detention today after school or write a five-hundred-word essay on
    'respect' to hand in tomorrow. Which is it?"
    I reach over and grab the detention slip. Brittany reaches out for
    the notebook paper. Figures.
    "Do either of you have a problem with the way I assign chemistry
    partners?" Peterson asks.
    Brittany says, "Yes," at the same time I say, "Nope."
    Peterson sets her glasses on her desk. "Listen, you two better work
    out your differences before this year is up. Brittany, I won't be
    assigning you a different partner. You're both seniors and will have to
    deal with a plethora of people and personalities after you graduate. If
    you don't want to go to summer school for flunking my class, I suggest
    you work together instead of against each other. Now hurry to your
    next class."
    With that, I follow my little chem partner out of the room and
    down the hall.
    "Stop following me," she snaps, looking over her shoulder to check
    how many people are watching us walk down the hall together.
    As if I'm el diablo himself.
    "Wear long sleeves on Saturday night," I tell her, knowing full well
    she's reaching the end of her sanity rope. I usually don't try to get
    under the skin of white chicks, but this one is fun to rattle. This one,
    the most popular and coveted one of all, actually cares. "It gets pretty
    cold on the back of my motorcycle."
    "Listen, Alex," she says, whipping herself around and tossing that
    sun-kissed hair over her shoulder. She faces me with clear eyes made
    of ice. "I don't date guys in gangs, and I don't use drugs."
    "I don't date guys in gangs, either," I say, stepping closer to her.
    "And I'm no user."
    "Yeah, right. I'm surprised you're not in rehab or some juvie boot
    camp."
    "You think you know me?"
    "I know enough." She folds her arms across her chest, but then
    looks down as if she realizes her stance makes her chichis stand out,
    and drops her hands to