Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Wednesday, November 17
Thursday, November 18
Friday, November 19
Saturday, November 20
Monday, November 22
Tuesday, November 23
Wednesday, November 24
Thursday, November 25
Sunday, November 28
Monday, November 29
Tuesday, November 30
Wednesday, December 1
Thursday, December 2
Friday, December 3
Monday, December 6
Tuesday, December 7
Wednesday, December 8
Friday, December 10
Saturday, December 11
Sunday, December 12
Monday, December 13
Also by Judy Goldschmidt
The Secret Blog of Raisin Rodriguez
Raisin Rodriguez and the Big-Time Smooch
RAZORBILL
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Young Readers Group
345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Copyright 2005 © Alloy Entertainment and Judy Goldschmidt
All rights reserved
Produced by Alloy Entertainment
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New York, NY 10001
eISBN : 978-1-595-14125-5
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Acknowledgments
Big thanks to everyone at Razorbill and Alloy for all their hard work in making this possible, especially Liesa and Lynn.
To Keith Summa, for your great eye.
And to Kelly and Janine, for the support you’ve given in so many different ways.
To all my friends, with love.
From: [email protected]
Sent: Tuesday, November 16
To: [email protected];
[email protected]
Subject: Urgent!
Attention, Raisin Shoppers:
Kindly be advised of my new blog address: www.GoAwayPlease.com.
I regret any inconvenience this change may cause, but changing blog addresses every few weeks is a necessary step toward ensuring secrecy and throwing off potential interlopers. And while I admit I’m not really sure what an interloper is, I am very sure I don’t want one reading this blog.
In addition to keeping interlopers off the site, this change-of-address policy will also keep Roger Morris off the site. As you may remember, Roger Morris is the boy who discovered my blog at the old address, www.TwoScoopsofRaisin.com, and then proceeded to print it out and distribute it to every seventh grader at Franklin Academy. Perhaps if Roger spent more time studying and less time trying to mess me up, he might finally get promoted to eighth grade.
Keep in mind, my first priority is you, the reader. Or more specifically, you, Pia and Claudia. You will always be my best friends, no matter where my mother decides to move or how insistent she is on taking me with her. And I will always keep this blog for the exclusive purpose of keeping you two informed. You have my promise that I will continue delivering excellence in gossip, fashion and beauty tips, and information generally considered too inappropriate to share.
Sincerely,
Raisin Rodriguez
Wednesday, November 17
4:17 PM, EST
Hello Kitties,
There comes a time in everybody’s life when they need to reevaluate. For some, it’s a birthday. For others, it’s seeing an amazing sunset. For me, it was finding Lola showing her underpants to her playdate in the laundry room.
That chubby little tart has a better love life than I do!
I’ve got to hand it to her, she’s pretty crafty. And all this time she had me thinking that Eisenhower was just a good friend. Boy, did she play me for the fool.
It could be the way her hair catches the light, or the way she dresses, or simply the way she picks her nose and eats it—everyone has their own preferences—but there’s something about her that boy finds completely irresistible. In any case, she must know something I don’t. Because she’s got that special someone. And me? All I have is no one.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. I’ve got you guys. But you’ve got to admit, the three thousand miles in between you and me makes it inconvenient to start anything serious right now. Plus I’m not ready to go lesbionic just yet. Not with CJ lurking in the background. What can I say? Just looking at him makes me feel like I have Pop Rocks going off in my stomach.
Can someone please tell me when that gorgeous, brainy, sweet, cartoon-drawing, oddly quiet boy will break down and kiss me?
I already know exactly how it’s going to happen. It’ll be just after sunset, and CJ and I will be sitting somewhere perfect. Like in a beautiful flower-lined gazebo, or maybe at a McDonald’s, if it’s raining outside. He’ll be looking at me so intently, I’ll wonder if I have food on my face. And so I’ll say, “CJ, do I have food on my face?” But before I’m able to get out a compact, he’ll lean over, smelling cinnamony like always, his eyelashes grazing my cheeks . . . his violin bow poking me in the ribs . . . and he’ll kiss me. And then, as soon as our lips meet, strange and wonderful things will happen. Birds will miraculously start chirping (even if we’re in Mickey Dee’s), my hair will stop frizzing, and my skin will brighten up with that healthy glow that only true love (and a good moisturizer) can provide. And he’ll look at me again and say, “Raisin, you’re such a great kisser. Will you be my girlfriend? I love you.”
I just can’t wait! If only I knew what he was waiting for. Sure, he hasn’t even asked me out yet. Or ever said more than three sentences in a row to me at a time. But still, it’s so obvious that we’re perfect together.
Maybe I should take up picking my nose and eating it.
But what if poor hygiene isn’t the answer?
Lynn thinks I should be the one to make the first move. She said so in the locker room today after gym. Her friend Fippy, another al
t kid who works on the ’zine, agreed.
“Have you ever made the first move?” I asked Lynn.
“Many times,” she answered. “Want me to show you how?”
“Sure,” I said, thinking that by “show” she meant she’d draw a diagram for me or put on a puppet show or a PowerPoint presentation. Not that she’d end up making out with the back of her hand. At first I thought it was pretty clever. But when she started using her tongue, I felt like I shouldn’t be watching anymore.
“Uh, thanks,” I said, looking away from her. “I think I got it.”
“But the tongue’s the most important part,” Fippy said, barely moving her lips when she spoke. She never does. I think it’s how she manages to sound so much like someone who cares so little.
“It’s true,” Lynn said, applying a fresh coat of black lipstick. “The rest of it is no different than kissing your grandma.”
I don’t know what Lynn’s got going on with her grandma, but it makes me doubly sure about my decision to look away. The last thing I need is to watch someone spread grandma cooties all over themselves.
4:27 PM, EST
The more I think about it, the crazier it makes me. Almost everyone I know has already kissed someone. I made a list to prove it.
The Definites:
My mom and dad: At least twice. Once when they had me and once when they had Lola.
My mom and Horace (aka Horse Ass): At least once. I saw it with my own eyes at their wedding. And I have the emotional scars to prove it.
Samantha: All the time. By College Boy Sid. (I know she’s just my stepsister, but I’m praying we still share the gene for good-kissing karma.)
Pia: Well, you know who you’ve kissed. (But just so we have it on record, my cousin Danny.)
Claudia: You also know who you’ve kissed. (Clint.)
Fiona: I don’t know who she’s kissed, but with her beauty, popularity, and good taste, you can bet he wears good shoes.
Hailey: Ditto.
Lynn: “Many times.” (See above.)
Then there’s the Maybes:
Sparkles: He’s a mystery, that one.
Countess: I have never seen him with another dog. male or female. I think he’s confused. Maybe he’d have a better social life if Sam stopped dressing him like a girl.
Jeremy: Hard to say, what with the freckles and all.
CJ: I can’t bear to think about it.
And last, the Definitely Not(s):
Me.
Ok, to be fair, I don’t think that boy from earth science who chews on miniature light bulbs has either.
I’ve made my decision. I have to get on the Definites list. And CJ has to be the one to get me on it.
Comments:
Logged in at 4:47 PM, EST
kweenclaudia: raisy mae, stop your stressing. look at me. i only had my first kiss a few weeks ago, and already clint and i have made out 367 times. that’s more than a year’s worth of kissing. you can always make up for lost time.
Logged in at 4:49 PM, EST
PiaBallerina: When you do have your first kiss, be careful not to have gum in your mouth. Danny got me before I had a chance to spit mine out and I almost choked on it trying to keep it from traveling into his mouth.
7:37 PM, EST
This is so incredible! Life is so fantastic! I’ve found the answer to all my dreams. It’s been hiding in my backpack since the ’zine meeting this afternoon.
Lynn ended the meeting early today so that she could make an announcement.
“Attention. Attention, everyone,” she said as she climbed up onto a wooden folding chair. The thick platform heels of her black boots looked so heavy, I worried that their weight could break the chair and send her crashing through to the floor.
“Welcome to the SantaSmells edition of CoolerThanYou. For the next month or so, I’ll be missing several CoolerThanYou meetings to get my braces on. But it’s okay; my parents are fine about letting you guys continue to meet here as long as you follow these simple rules.”
As soon as she said the word rules, there was a lot of booing and hissing. Roman threw off his dog collar and Jacques, the French foreign-exchange student, said something about America being a fascist state. Even Fippy muttered something under her breath, but it was hard to tell what it was because, as always, she didn’t move her lips.
“Chill, please!” Lynn commanded, very in charge. “There’s no reason to get all bent out of shape. The rules are pretty simple. They are (1) stay in the basement, (2) keep your hands to yourselves, and (3) don’t break anything.”
Then it was time to go, and since I still had one panel left, I took the strip home with me. And just now, when I took it out of my bag to work on it, I noticed that on the top corner of the page, in his very dark, very tiny, very problem-child handwriting, CJ wrote me a note:
Dear Raisin,
Hi. It’s CJ. Your CoolerThanYou friend. Sorry to bother you, but if it’s not too much trouble, could you please call me when you have a chance? My phone number is 215-555-8435.
Sincerely,
CJ Mullen
7:41 PM, EST
What should I do?
7:43 PM, EST
What does this mean?
7:44 PM, EST
What should I do?
Comments:
Logged in at 8:12 PM, EST
kweenclaudia: i don’t know, raise. you should probably take a little time and consider your options.
Logged in at 8:14 PM, EST
PiaBallerina: Raisin Ramona Rodriguez!
This is the chance you’ve been waiting for.
Call him right now! !
PS—Write back as soon as you get off the phone.
8:42 PM, EST
Pia, what would I do without you to convince me of things I already know to be true?
And Claudia, I’d probably be a lot better off without your sarcasm, but . . . you’re pretty.
Anyway, CJ wasn’t home. I wrote out a whole script for what I was going to say if he picked up, and then I just ended up leaving a message on his voice mail. I hope that’s okay. Because now that I think of it, he only gave me the go-ahead to call him. He never said anything about leaving him a message.
Do you think he’ll be angry? Do you think he’ll feel violated? Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?
8:53 PM, EST
... Do you think he listens to his voice mail?
Because not listening to voice mail would be just the kooky kind of quirk a quirky kook like him would have. He’s the kind of person who might think voice-mail messages are evil. Just another scheme Hallmark’s cooked up to get people to buy greeting cards. Or a new way of brainwashing teenage girls into thinking they’re overweight. Actually, he might not be so wrong about that one: if he doesn’t call me back, I plan to stuff my face.
Ooh . . . there’s the phone. I hope it’s him!
8:55 PM, EST
It was for Lola.
Eisenhower—who else?
I mean, really! He can’t be missing her. He left her side less than two hours ago. I showed her how to use call waiting in case CJ calls while she’s on the phone. She’d better not mess up. All she has to do is push a button. Which, come to think of it, requires about as much skill as pulling up her skirt. So she should be a master.
8:59 PM, EST
It’s been six minutes and she’s still on the phone! Can you believe it? She’s only in nursery school. Even if she said every word she knows—twice—it wouldn’t take up six minutes.
That’s it. I’m going to pick up the phone and listen in.
Hmmm. They’re both just breathing. Actually, Lola’s sniffling a bit now too.
I’m going to give them ten more seconds, and then I’m going to say something.
9:00 PM, EST
I waited ten more seconds like I said I would, and then I chimed in. Unfortunately, the person on the other end wasn’t Eisenhower.
“Hello, Eisenhower,” I began. “This is Raisin Rodrig
uez, Lola’s older sister. I hate to be rude, but would you mind if I asked you to get off the line? I’m waiting for a very, very, very important call.”
“Uh, hi, Raisin, this is CJ,” said the voice on the other end. “But if you’re waiting for a very, very, very important phone call, I can call back.”
I almost threw the phone out the window with me attached to the end of it. I didn’t want him to think I was pushy.
“CJ . . . hi . . .” I started. “I was totally exaggerating. I only said three verys to get Lola off the phone. It’s really only two,” I answered. Thank goodness I’m quick on my feet that way.
Suddenly I remembered the script I had written. I scurried around the room looking for it, but I couldn’t find it anywhere, so I was forced to wing it.
“Did you know that when a lion and a tiger mate, it’s called a liger?” I said.
“Huh?” CJ asked.
This wasn’t going very well.
Just then I heard Lola. She’d been so quiet, I’d forgotten she was still on the other line. But now I could hear her trying to breathe through the mucous bubbles in her nose. Was she kidding me? Maybe Eisenhower was into that kind of thing, but if she thought she could get her hooks into my CJ using her old nasal tricks, she could think again.
“Lola? Isn’t SpongeBob on?” I asked.
Click.
By now, my conversation with CJ was dragging. I had to think of something to liven things up. I do a perfect robot, but it kind of loses its effect on the phone. (Remind me to pick up a couple of Web cams, will ya? One for me and one for CJ.)
As I frantically scanned my brain for ideas, CJ finally spoke.
“So, Raisin,” he started. “You’re a writer, right?”
How cute is that? I thought. He’s done his research.
“Yes,” I answered coolly. “How’d you know?”
Raisin Rodriguez & the Big-Time Smooch Page 1
