Wishing on a Star (8 page)

“I love it!” Chuchie screams. We hug each other and scream so loud, my mom threatens to gag us and tie us up with fabric.

I catch Mom’s eyes, then point to the backpacks, then to my friends, and mouth the word, “
Posso
?” which, in Italian, means “Can I, please?”

Mom doesn’t even put up a fight. She walks over to the cheetah backpacks and gives one each to Do’, Aqua, and Angie, like it was her idea. “Now, would you please settle down so I can take your measurements for the costumes,” Mom says with a smile and a sigh.

“Omigod!” Do’ Re Mi gasps, and runs over to give Mom a hug. There is something special between those two already. I’m glad.

Do’ Re Mi turns to Angie and Aqua and says, “Y’all are okay with wearing cheetah cat suits, right?”

“That’s right,” Aqua says with a smile. “Dag. It’s just a costume, Dorinda. We do have Halloween in Texas, you know!”

“Hey, we gotta have a costume for Toto, too!” I say, in a sudden burst of inspiration. “He can be, like, our mascot!” This gets howls of approval, and an okay from my mom. Awright!

When we leave, Toto runs to the glass door and stares at us with his begging, beady eyes. We all wave at him. “Bye, Toto!” “Bye, boo-boo.” “See you at show time, doggie-poo!”

I need to resolve this music thing with Aqua and Angie, today. We have to begin practicing the songs I’ve written, now that we have the other two down.

Today, Dad drives me down to Chanel’s house for rehearsal. He is late getting to the factory, so he is lost in his own world. “How are rehearsals going?” he asks me.

“Don’t ask,” I groan.

Dad wants me to be a singer, too. I think secretly that my singing has kept him and Mom together. Whenever they fight, I always start singing, and it makes them laugh.

“
Ciao
, Dad,” I say, blowing him a kiss as I get out.

I’m glad that my parents are not coming to the bash. It’s for Kats and Kittys only, thank gooseness. Between school, rehearsals, dance classes, and vocal classes, I am about to explode like microwave popcorn.

We have two hours to rehearse our vocals before we have to do our dance moves with Drinka.

“Listen, can we just do this?” I say to Aqua and Angie. I am holding my breath because I don’t want to fight with them anymore.

Do’ Re Mi is going along with the program. She kinda likes my songs. But the “Huggy Bear Twins” (me and Chuchie’s secret nickname for them) are hard to please.

“All right,” Aqua moans.

“We’ll just start with the first verse today,” I say, “so that Chuchie and Do’ Re Mi can join in. You two listen up and try to come in where you know the words.”

We start to sing:

Why are Aqua and Angie leaning so heavy on the chorus? You can’t even hear the rest of us! I wonder if they are doing it on purpose. Sure, they are better singers, but they don’t have to sing like they’re at the Thunderdome.

“Aqua, Angie, maybe you should sing the chorus a little softer so we can hear the harmony more?” I suggest.

“Oh, okay,” they both say.

Chanel doesn’t say anything. For someone who can run her mouth like she’s doing a TV commercial on
Telemundo
, I can’t get a squeak out of her when I need her to represent me. Why do I always have to stick up for us? And why is Do’ Re Mi singing so softly?

“Do’ Re Mi—you need to sing louder after the first verse, I think, no?”

“’But peeps like me got the Cheetah Girl groove,’” Do’ Re Mi sings—this time with more gusto. “Like that?”

“Yeah,” Aqua answers.

I’m wondering if anyone will boo at us at Kats and Kittys. Could they be that cold?

After dance rehearsal, we are standing outside of Drinka’s building. By now, I’ve had about all I can take. Not only did the singing rehearsal go badly, but the dancing rehearsal went even worse. Especially Chanel—she was so busy giggling she couldn’t even get through the numbers! “Why don’t you pay attention to what you’re doing!” I scream at her now, losing my cool completely Angie, Aqua, and Do’ Re Mi get real quiet.

“What happened?” Chanel yells. “What did I do?”

“Chanel, you better not mess this up. You have to try to pay attention to what we’re all doing so we look like we’re doing the same moves.”

“I’m not the one messing it up. You are, with your big mouth!” she screams at me. Chanel never screams. Only I do. We argue right there on the street.

Angie, Aqua, and Do’ Re Mi wait on the sidewalk while me and Chanel are fighting. “I hate when you act so stupid and you don’t listen to me!” I tell Chanel.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you chocolate-covered cannoli!”

No, she did not go there. So what if I was half Italian? She is Black and Latin. I never make fun of her. Well, almost never. I run all the way to the corner and put my arm up to get a taxi back home. It is my last ten dollars till Monday, but I don’t care. I just want to run far away.

Do’ Re Mi runs after me. “Y’all need to stop! Hold up, Galleria.”

“No. I’m going home. I need to chill for now. I’m sorry, Do’ Re, okay? I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Once I am inside of my safe cheetah palace, I grab a box of my mom’s Godiva chocolates. She keeps it hidden in the back of the kitchen cabinet. I don’t care if she gets mad at me. So what? Everyone else is.

I take the Godiva box and get as far as I can under my blanket I cry myself to sleep, slobbering on my leopard velvet pillow while I’m chomping on the candy. How could Chanel call me that? I feel like dragging her by her fake braids right down the street. I didn’t even know she knew what a cannoli was.

I miss Toto. He’s out at the dog groomer’s—finally. Oh, well. He’s probably just as glad I’m not suffocating him to death right now. Here I am, just fourteen years old, and my life is finished, I think, as I doze off into a deep sleep.

What’s harder than hiding a spotted cheetah in the desert? Trying not to speak to your best friend when the two of you go to the same school! By the time I left homeroom to make a mad dash to my color theory class, I was seeing spots from trying to keep my eyes glued on my desk so I would never look up and make eve contact with Chanel.

As I walked down the hallway, I concentrated on the answers for my quiz on primary colors: Red and yellow make orange. Blue and red make purple.

Hmmph, I hiss to myself. Chanel No. 5 can get on the stage by herself and eat Meow Mix for all I care.

“Galleria, Galleria!” Chanel yells, puffing down the hallway. She finally catches up to me, even though I still try to ignore her. “I just wanna know. You still want me to do your hair today after school?”

I am so mad, I forgot all about that. My mom is finally gonna let me get a weave, and Chanel is supposed to put it in.

“
Ciao-ciao
, chinchilla, cheetah,” I snarl, shooing her away with my hand. “Pretend I’m not here. It’s a mirage.”

Breathing really hard, Chanel chokes on her words. “I had a bad dream last night, Galleria, for real. Please talk to me.
Per favore
, pleez.”

Cheez whiz, Chanel No. 5 has finally learned something in her Italian class. I open my mouth to begin reading her the riot act when all of sudden I hear the word “Okay” slip out of my mouth.

“I dreamed we were on the stage, and you were screaming at me to dance faster, and I was so scared that I was gonna fall because the heels were so high on my shoes,” Chanel says without breathing. “I tried to dance, but I fell so hard, and somehow—this is the weird part—I fell right into the people off the stage.

So I started screaming, right, and you, Do’ Re Mi, Aqua, and Angie kept on singing. You acted like you didn’t hear me scream. Then I tried to run because the people started chasing me and I just wanted to get away.”

By now Chanel is giving tears for fears—real drama. So we hug. This was supposed to be fun for us, and it is turning into a
Nightmare on Broome Street.

“My mom gave me fifty dollars for my weave. You think I could get two strands of hair for that?” I ask.

Chanel blinks at me. She can’t believe I’m letting her off the hook this easy. I’ve got to admit, it’s not like me. But I can’t be mad at her. She’s been my best friend forever, and I was acting kinda bossy and mean.

“Three at least!” she says, giggling. Then she gets serious. “I’m sorry for what I said,” she confesses. “You made me mad. I didn’t like what you said in front of Aqua that time.”

“What time?” I ask.

“When we were at the Pizza Pit and you said I would be giving out
piñatas
later.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I was just playin’.”

I was showing off in front of Aqua and Angle. Now I see that Chanel did the same thing in front of them.

By the time school was out, we were rollin’ like usual. First, we had to pick up leopard paper masks with gold whiskers from the Fright Night shop on Prince Street. Then we had to take the subway to Harlem to pick up Do’ Re Mi at the YMCA, since she works so close to “It’s Unbeweavable!,” where they sell hair by the pound.

Do’ Re Mi works at the Junior Youth Entrepreneurship Leadership Program Store in the Harlem YMCA. The program is designed for teens who need jobs and it’s supposed to teach them leadership skills. Do’ Re Mi had to complete a twelve-week curriculum on Saturdays, attend workshops during the week, and work in the store. I don’t know how she does it all. She is yawning till the break of dawn half the time.

Because we never miss an opportunity to harmonize, and I am determined to get Do’ Re Mi’s voice at least a tidbit stronger in the soprano department, we start singing on Lenox Avenue as soon as we pick her up.

“Let’s take it from the last verse,” Chanel says to Do’ Re Mi, taking charge for a change.

We are stylin’ again—and more important, we are crew again—now and forever!

“I’ve never seen you with hair so long, Miss Thing,” my mom says, touching my new Rapunzel weave. “But I still prefer to take my girls off at night and scratch my head.”

Mom is, of course, referring to her wig collection. Angie and Aqua get a giggle out of this. They both have gotten their hair done—on the press and curl tip—and I think they’re amused by my mom’s wild and woolly wigs.

“Is it me, or is it hot in here? I’d better open the door and get some air in here.” Mom doesn’t wait for us to answer: she just opens the glass door and puts down the stopper hinge to stop the door from closing on its own. We are so excited because we are getting our final fitting for our cat suit costumes for the show tonight.

“Let me see your nails,” Mom asks Aqua, who is definitely growing into the supa-show-off of the two. “What is that? Dollar bills?”

“Uh-huh,” Angie answers proudly, flossin’ about the gold dollar-bill sign decals she has put on her red tips.

“You trying to stay on the money, huh?” my mom says, smirking. “Well, you gotta make some first.”

Angie and Aqua only get twenty-five dollars a week allowance apiece from their dad, but he also pays for them to get their nails done twice a month. I wonder if Angie spends as much time on her homework as she does on her nails.

“Fabbie poo,” Chanel exclaims as she slips into her cat suit. “This is so phat!”

“Chuchie, you are gonna be over the leopard limit tonight, girlita!” My mom giggles.

The cat suits are all that. Each one has a mock turtleneck collar and zips up the back. Do’ Re Mi’s has a tail, too, because we thought that would be cute. Do’ Re Mi puts on her cat suit, then flosses.

“You know how to work it, Miss Thing,” Mom snips. “Not too tight?” Mom asks Do’ Re Mi, who is prancing around like she’s the cat’s meow.

Do Re Mi’s cat suit looks really tight, but when Mom asks her again, she just shakes her head sideways, smiling, and answers, “Cheetah
Señorita, está bien
!”

Mom smiles, then holds out a plate of Godiva chocolates for us to munch. She is being so nice to us. I poke Aqua, who excitedly takes a piece of chocolate and smiles. “Thank you, Mrs. Garibaldi. I mean, Miss Dorothea!”

Mom has told them more than once, “Call me Miss Dorothea, but just don’t call me Heavy D!”

Aqua and Angie are so used to being formal around grown-ups, sometimes you can tell they don’t know how to act normal.

I thought again about Chanel calling me a “chocolate-covered cannoli.” I wouldn’t tell Mom or she would make Chanel eat a whole box of them.

The beauty mark Do’ Re Mi paints right above her upper lip looks less fake than mine. I decided to try painting one smack-dab in the middle of my cheek.

“She’s a faker Do’ Re Mi hums. I rub off the cheesy dot of brown liquid liner and try it her way.

“Pa-dow! That’s the dopiest dope one,” Do’ Re Mi says after I’m finished. She has dimples for days. I didn’t think there was anyone cuter than Chuchie. I didn’t think it was possible. But Do’ is running a close second.

We have each painted on a beauty mark and put Glitterella sparkles around our eyes. Theme is everything, I keep repeating to myself. We are starting to be very meow-looking. (Even Aqua and Angie. It’s amazing what a little makeup can do.) “Harmony check!” yells Aqua.