Raisin Rodriguez & the Big-Time Smooch Read Online Free PDF

never noticed it before, but those things were like hairy little apes. Well, the big toes were. The small toes were more like hairy little monkeys. Maybe CJ’s right. Maybe I am part beast.
    When I finished, I asked Sam if I should do my feet too.
    â€œWhy? Do they have hair growing on them?” she asked.
    I checked. “No.”
    â€œThen you should probably leave them alone. But you might want to check under your arms.”
    I was amazed. How did Sam know my secret? For the last few weeks, there’s been a faint but very ugly line of hair growing on each of my armpits. My cousin Nestor’s mustache before his voice changed comes to mind. Dark, skinny, and sad. Why do all the signs of puberty need to be so unattractive?
    I’ve been trying to hide them, but I guess Samantha caught on to my sneaky little game. Sometimes it takes a stepsister to help you see the ugly truth about what’s growing on your body.
    When I got to the second armpit, I pretended I was also getting ready for a date. With CJ, of course.
    â€œSomething about you looks different tonight,” he’d tell me. “I can’t put my finger on it, but you look even prettier than usual. I’m so glad I chose you over Dylan.”
    And then later in the evening, when we’d share our first kiss in the gazebo, or in McDonald’s, if it was raining, I’d feel extra-confident knowing that my armpits, legs, and toes were completely hair-free.
    By the time I finished shaving, I remembered why I was there in the first place.
    â€œHey, Sam,” I said. “Is a bar mitzvah a sex party?”
    I could tell she was trying to hold back a laugh. “What makes you think that?” she asked.
    â€œWell, everyone’s making a big deal about looking good at Roger Morris’s bar mitzvah. And usually when people want to look good, it’s because boy-girl things are going to happen.”
    â€œHmmm,” she said as she brushed her gorgeous long blond hair. “Well, the Morris family is very wealthy. So I bet it’s going to be super-fancy. Which is another possible reason why people want to look good. Does the invitation call for formal attire?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said, making swirlies with the bit of shaving cream that was left over on my leg.
    â€œWell, can I see it?”
    â€œI don’t have one.”
    Suddenly Sam got really quiet.
    â€œWhy? Am I supposed to have one?”
    â€œKind of,” she said, looking down at the floor.
    â€œDoes that mean I can’t go?”
    Again, quiet.
    â€œWell, I have to go. Everyone’s going.”
    â€œYou mean everyone was invited?” she asked, brushing on some blush.
    â€œI think so,” I answered.
    â€œThen I’m sure you’re invited too. Maybe the invitations weren’t all mailed on the same day.”
    â€œOkay, great,” I said, wiping off the last bit of shaving cream from my thigh and admiring my work. Then, just as I was about to walk out the door, Sam called after me.
    â€œRaisin, just so you know, you never have to do anything with a boy you don’t want to do until you’re ready.”
    â€œOkay,” I said. “But what if I am ready?”
    Sam looked at me in horror. “Ready for what?!”
    â€œYou know, for kissing and stuff. I mean, when you were my age, didn’t you kiss boys?”
    â€œOh! Kissing! Okay . . . yeah. I kissed a boy when I was around your age. But people should do things at their own pace,” she said, squeezing my shoulder.
    Whatever. I’ve been doing things at my own pace for long enough. It’s time for me to start doing things at other people’s pace.
    And the timing for this initiative couldn’t be more perfect. Because now, even though CJ and I won’t be meeting about the speech for a while, we can still have our first kiss at the bar mitzvah. With all the formal attire and fancy pantsiness, it sounds