The Girl of His Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page B

since you’re standing out here in the hall that says to me that you’ve either already eaten or you’re not hungry. So go have a seat in my office. I’ll be there in a few. I’ll only take a minute of your time. I’ll write you a pass when I’m done.”
    â€œCan’t this wait until after classes?”
    Mrs. Dean narrows her eyes. “Quandaleesha, this is not up for debate. My office. Now.”
    Drama huffs, shooting me a dirty look. I shake my head as she stomps off, holding in my laugh. Quandaleesha. Hahahaha! What a ghetto joke!
    â€œHi. I’m Mrs. Dean. The vice principal.” She extends her hand. “And you are?”
    â€œHi,” I say, shaking her hand. “I’m Miesha. Miesha Wilson.”
    â€œOh, yes. The transfer from Fashion High.” She takes me in. “And I see you dress the part. But as you can see, it’s a little more relaxed here at McPherson. And some of the kids here might not be, um...” She pauses, then smiles. “Let’s say they might not be ready for you.”
    I shrug. “Yeah, I see. Well, they had better get ready ’cause I’m not changing who I am to fit in.”
    Her smile widens. “And so you shouldn’t. Always be you. It’ll take some getting used to, but I’m sure you’ll fit right in just fine here. Don’t let those girls get to you.”
    I run my hand through my hair. “Oh, trust. They’re lightweights compared to what I’m used to.”
    â€œI’m sure.” She glances down at her watch, then at the lunch in my hand and says, “Well, I’d better let you go have your lunch. Welcome to McPherson High.” She smiles again.
    â€œYeah, thanks.”
    She starts to walk off, then turns back around. “Oh. One more thing. We have a zero-tolerance bullying policy here. If you have any problems with anyone, come see me. And it will be addressed immediately. I have an open door, no matter what the issue is.”
    Sweetie boom! I have my own policy for bullies. Beat. Them. Down! “Okay, thanks,” I say. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I head toward the door that leads out into the parking lot. Pissed that I have only ten minutes left before the bell rings for my next class.
    I hate this school!

5
    Antonio
    S ixth period, I’m sittin’ in my Advanced French class. Mrs. Duvet is my teacher for the second year in a row. She’s mad strict, but I like her. And I actually dig French. But I ain’t ’bout to tell my boys this. Still I enjoy it. It’s a mad sexy language; real rap. And, between you and me, anytime I’m in class or I hear it bein’ spoken, it always reminds me of my French teacher from freshman year, Miss Singleton. Whew! I get mad excited e’erytime I think ‘bout her. She was . . . uh, the one who got me interested in wantin’ to speak the language. She made e’erything about the language sexy. I’m not gonna front. At first I wasn’t really beat for takin’ French or any other language, but it’s required that e’eryone takes at least two years of a language so I chose French ’cause I already know Spanish and I wasn’t beat for Italian or Latin. Plus, the French teacher at the time, Miss Singleton, was, like twenty-eight, mad sexy, and always gave her male students and even some of the chicks somethin’ nice to look at in class whenever she wore short skirts and too-tight blouses. So I figured I could kill two birds wit’ one stone. Handle my requirements and check out the hot new teacher e’ery day. For me, it was a straight-up win-win situation.
    All I did in class was daydream about seein’ her wit’ out clothes on, then go home and fantasize about gettin’ it in wit’ her. Then, finally, I got my wish. At first, it was just her bendin’ over and lettin’ me get sneak peeks of her kitty anytime she