That’s when I remember something real strange. “Remember, Angie, I took the Scotch tape off that shoe box?”
“Yeah,” she says, smiling at me. “Maybe that’s what High Priestess Abala Shaballa meant, when she said the Vampire Spell didn’t work ’cuz we must not have followed her instructions.”
“I don’t get it,” Angie says, shrugging her shoulders.
“I put Scotch tape on the shoe box in the first place. She didn’t tell us to do that. Maybe that’s why the spell didn’t work! Maybe Mr. Teddy Poodly could only do his thing when he was able to get out of the box!”
“Well, there has to be some reason why those boys won, because they sure weren’t that good. Not as good as we are,” Angie says, sitting on the bed and crossing her legs Indian style.
“Yeah. I know that’s right. When did I take the Scotch tape off my shoe box?”
“I don’t know. After we came home from the Apollo, I guess,” Angie says.
“That’s right. It does seem kinda strange that this happened—”
“Well, nothing has happened, Aquanette. I mean, we don’t know what’s gonna happen when we get out there. They didn’t say they’re gonna give us a record deal or anything.”
I can tell Angie is getting exasperated. And I know what’s wrong, too. She is being stubborn because she wants to stay mad at High Priestess Abala Shaballa.
Neither one of us is happy about Daddy getting a girlfriend so quick. Dag on, he and Ma just broke up! Okay, it’s been a year, but that’s nothing. And why did he have to pick her?
“I’m just saying, Angie, that maybe we’re wrong about Abala,” I say, giving my sister that look.
Angie just drags the suitcase off the bed. “We going, or what?”
“Let’s ask Daddy and find out,” I say, trailing behind her down the stairs. “Daddy! Can you help us with the luggage, please?”
High Priestess Abala Shaballa comes to the bottom of the stairwell. “Your father is on the phone with the airline, checking to make sure your flight isn’t canceled,” she says, looking like she feels bad for us if we don’t get to go.
When we put the luggage by the front door, she turns and winks at us, “I see the Vampire Spell worked, no?” Her eyes get real squinty, like a mouse’s! I never noticed that before.
“Let’s go, before the airline changes their mind,” Daddy says chuckling, then hustles us out the door and into the Bronco.
The traffic is so bad going to the airport, I don’t think we’re ever going to get there! I’m really sweating now. “Angie, are you hot?”
“Yeah,” Angie says, then sighs. “It’s the traffic in New York. It makes me nervous, too. I didn’t even know they made so many cars!”
“I don’t know. It gets pretty crowded in Houston around rush hour,” Daddy says, not looking up from the wheel.
Finally, we arrive at the airport, and by now, I’m dying of thirst.
“Did you pack some water, Angie?”
“Yes, Ma!” she says all huffy.
“Daddy, don’t forget to feed Porgy and Bess,” I mumble. All of a sudden, I’m feeling real jumpy. “They’re real particular about their food—they only like fresh lettuce, and they don’t like their water too cold.”
“Yes, Aquanette, I’II take them for walks too,” Daddy says, rolling one of our suitcases through the airport terminal.
“There’s Ms. Dorothea!” I say, waving my arm so she can see us. She has on a cheetah coat and big cheetah hat, and is standing with Mr. Garibaldi.
Then she moves aside a little, and I see that they’re not alone. “Oh, there’s Galleria, too!” Galleria looks so small next to her mother. She is wearing a cheetah coat and hat, too.
“Don’t they look like a cheetah and a cub together?” I joke to Angie.
“They sure do!”
“My, she is tall,” High Priestess Abala Shaballa comments about Ms. Dorothea.
I wanna say to her High-Mightyness, “Yeah, well, at least she don’t put hexes on people like you do!” But I keep my mouth shut, because I’m not so mad at her anymore.
People are looking at us, probably because of all the fabric Abala has wrapped on her body and head. They probably think she’s African royalty or something like that.
“There’s Chanel and Dorinda,” Angie says, pointing to where they’re standing by the window. When Chanel and Dorinda see us, they come running over with Galleria and Ms. Dorothea.
“Pooches gracias for showing up!” Chanel giggles, then we all hug each other, screaming and carrying on.
Everybody is looking at us now. Daddy gives us a look, like, “calm down.”
“Let me check at the reservation desk and make sure the flight is on time,” he says, holding the High Priestess’s arm.
“You didn’t pack any crawfish in there, did you?” Galleria asks, teasing us.
“No, because Porgy and Bess ate ’em!” I chuckle back.
“I miss Toto already,” Galleria whines.
“How come you didn’t bring him?” I ask.
“We’re going to Los Angeles for a singers’ showcase, not a poodle convention, darling,” Ms. Dorothea quips, but I can tell she feels guilty about leaving him behind. Galleria told us her mother gets hysterical if Toto chokes on a dog biscuit or anything.
“Dad is gonna take care of him,” Galleria says, then turns to Mr. Garibaldi, “right, Dad?’
“Sì, cara, Sì!” Mr. Garibaldi chuckles. He has on one of those real funny hats that looks like a raccoon, or something furry like that.
I look away, to see that Daddy is walking toward us wearing the longest face.
“Oh, no,” I moan.
“The flight is canceled,” Daddy announces.
I just want to fall on the floor and pull a temper tantrum. Dag on, we can’t take any more disappointments!
“But they’ve put the six of you on standby, in case they can get you on a later flight,” Daddy says, delivering the bad news like Granddaddy Walker does when he’s telling a family he can’t make a corpse at the funeral parlor look real good.
“Whatever makes them clever,” Galleria says, disappointed. “I guess their mouth ain’t mighty enough for Furious Flo.”
“Well, we ain’t going home,” I announce adamantly. “I don’t care if we have to stay in the airport all night.”
“I know that’s right,” Angie pipes in.
“Don’t worry, darlings,” Ms. Dorothea says, putting her arms around us. “It’s just another wrong turn on the road, and we’ve landed in hyena territory once again—but when the hyenas have eaten their fill, they’ll leave us alone, and then we’ll be on our merry way.
“All’s we gotta do is click our heels and pray.”
Chanel starts clicking her heels together. They are real cute vinyl sandals, and have goldfish in the heels that you can see—but they do make her feet look kinda wet.
“I don’t know how you could wear those goldfish on your feet in this weather, Chuchie,” Galleria says, rolling her eyes. “Oh, I get it, maybe you’ll be able to swim upstream if the water gets too high!”
Chanel is too crestfallen to care what Galleria says. “I hope we have somewhere to swim to,” she mumbles.
We all drag our luggage to the check-in storage room. Galleria and Ms. Dorothea’s cheetah luggage is so pretty. Ours looks kinda ugly next to theirs. It’s just plain ol’ blue vinyl. When Angie and I get some money, we’re gonna buy ourselves pretty luggage too. I wonder if we are ever gonna get some money of our own. Not soon enough, that’s for sure!
After we eat some hamburgers and french fries at Pig in the Poke Restaurant, we get real sleepy, and head to the waiting area, where we sit on the ugly vinyl chairs. “How come they don’t have real velvet chairs or something?” Chanel moans.
I put my coat on the floor so I can lie down. “Sweet dreams,” Chanel coos. She seems so sad.
I can’t take the noise anymore. People are walking around like they’re in a hurry, but I know th
ey’re going nowhere. All this is making me real sleepy.
I don’t know how long we’ve been sleeping, but I hear a loud noise, and I think it’s in my dreams, but then I realize it’s an announcer’s voice on the loudspeaker. “Mrs. Gari-bolda, please come to the reservation desk. Mrs. Gari-bolda, please come to the reservation desk.”
“Mom, wake up!” Galleria says, shaking her mother. Ms. Dorothea jumps up, like one of the creatures from Night of the Living Dead.
“Wait here!” she orders.
“What time is it?” Chanel says, rubbing her eyes open.
“It’s ten o’clock. We’ve been waiting for four hours,” Galleria answers. Then, humming aloud, she sings, “Rain or shine, all is mine….”
We look at each other real quiet. It feels like we’re waiting to see if we won the $64,000 prize on the game show My Dime, Your Time!
Running toward us, Ms. Dorothea announces, “Come on, Cheetah Girls! It’s time to head for Hollywood!”
We all jump out of our chairs and let out a cheer. Then we gather our stuff, and say good-bye to Daddy and Abala. The High Priestess kisses me on the forehead, and says, “Look for the Raven when she opens her wings.”
“I will, Abala,” I say. Yeah, right. Whatever.
Galleria is trying not to smirk, and as we’re running through the terminal to keep up with Ms. Dorothea, she spreads her arms out and coos, “Caw! Caw! I’m the raven! Nevermore! Nevermore!”
Everybody is looking at us as we give our tickets to the attendant, giggling up a storm.
“Oh, and by the way, darling, tell that dreary announcer of yours it’s Mrs. Garibaldi!” Ms. Dorothea tells the attendant.
“Ooh, this is dope!” Dorinda says, looking at the red velvet seats we pass in the first-class section. She has never been on a plane before.
“This is where all the rich people sit,” I whisper in Dorinda’s ear. The flight attendants are giving out newspapers and bubbly-looking drinks in plastic cups to the first-class passengers.
“Momsy poo, can we sit in first class?” Galleria asks, giggling.
“Do you have first-class money? You can sit there, darling poo, when you’re paying.”
We go back farther, and get to a section where there are more seats—and they’re a lot smaller.
“Hold your breath, girls, and tuck it in,” Galleria giggles as she sits down.
“Do’ Re Mi, mamacita, you take the window seat,” Chanel says to Dorinda. Bless her heart, she won’t be able to see much out the window, even though the rain has stopped. It’s so dark out now. But it was still nice of Chuchie to give her the seat. After we settle in, a pilot’s voice comes over the loudspeaker and welcomes us aboard.
“Hola, hola, everybody, the Cheetah Girls are in the house!” Chanel coos. The lady in the row across from me and Angie looks at us in curiosity. How’d she get her hair teased so high in this weather? I wonder.
“She looks like she’s ready for takeoff!” Galleria whispers to me. She is seated in the row behind me.
A screen gets pulled down by the flight attendant, and a movie explains all about safety, and what to do if something happens.
I start getting real scared, and my hands are sweating. But I have plenty of time to calm down. We sit and wait in the plane for two hours!
Finally, the captain announces that we are “ready for takeoff.” Everyone in the plane starts clapping.
“We’re ready for Freddy, yo!” Dorinda says, and lets out a hoot. She is so excited. For someone who’s never been on a plane before, she seems so much calmer than we do.
I reach down to get my Cloud Nine pills out of my carry-on bag, and put them in the flap in front of my seat. Just in case I get sick, I don’t want to be barfing up a storm and embarrassing myself in front of my friends.
Galleria starts singing: “Snakes in the grass have no class/But cheetah girls have all the swirls.”
We join in, singing together, and people start clapping all around us, cheering us on.
When the plane finally starts ascending into the air, though, we get real quiet. I think we’re all pretty scared.
When we finally reach cruising altitude, I let out a sigh of relief. “We’re going to Hollywood!” I yell.
“Hey, we never did get to see the Sandman at the Apollo, did we?” Galleria turns and asks me, then chuckles. “I was kinda disappointed.”
“Don’t be, Miss Galleria,” I say, laying on my Southern accent and fluttering my eyelashes, “If we turn ‘stinkeroon like loony toons’ at the Tinkerbell Lounge, neither Freddy nor the Sandman is gonna be able to help us—’cuz Captain Hook is gonna yank us off the stage himself!!!”
But I just know that ain’t gonna happen. We all know it. Maybe it’s High Priestess Abala Shaballa’s spell, or maybe it’s God’s Way, just that we know we’re due—whatever. It really doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re the Cheetah Girls, and we’ve got growl power. It’s only a matter of time till the whole world knows it.
So hey, ho, Hollywooood, the Cheetah Girls are looking gooood!
More Pounce to the Ounce
We wuz walking down the street
eating Nestlé’s Crunch
when a big babboon
tried to get a munch.
Please don’t ask for bite
’cuz that’s my lunch
Times are hard and
you should know the deal
So please stop breathing
on my Happy Meal.
Here’s the wrapper
take the crumbs
Next time you try to sneak a chomp
you won’t get none!!!
Snakes in the grass have no class
but cheetah girls have all the swirls.
Big baboons don’t make us swoon
’cuz Cheetah Girls can reach the moon
To all the competition, what can we say?
You’d better bounce, y’all
’cuz every Cheetah has its day
You’d betta bounce, y’all
While you still got some flounce, y’all
’cuz Cheetah Girls are gonna pounce, y’all
and we got more pounce to the ounce y’all
More Pounce to the Ounce
We don’t eat lunch
More Pounce to the Ounce
Come on with the brunch!
The Cheetah Girls Glossary
Angling for an intro: When you’re cheesing for the purpose of an introduction to someone.
At the bottom of the crab barrel: When you’re down in the dumps.
Churl: A word made up by combining “girl” and “child” together.
Corpse: The body of a dead person. A cadaver.
Crispy: Supertasty “flow” or food.
Diva size: Size fourteen and up.
Flounce: Show off.
Groovy like a movie: Dope. Cool.
Heffa: A girl who thinks she’s all that and a bag of “juju beans.”
Hex: A witchcraft spell.
Hush your mouth!: An affectionate response that’s really asking, “Is that right?”
Monologue: A dramatic sketch performed by an actor—or a “drama queen” kind of person.
Off the hook: Dope. Cool
Outtie like Snouty: When a situation gets a little cuckoo and you need a time-out break.
Passed: When someone dies.
Pouncing: A very important Cheetah Girl skill for taking control of a situation and making things happen.
Ready for Freddy: Ready for anything. Ready to do your thing.
She takes the cobbler: When someone is really too much. Can also be used like, “He gave me a C in math. That really takes the cobbler!”
Stinkeroon like loony toons: When you’re having an off day with your “flow.”
Wefties: Weaves that are so tick tacky the tracks are showing!
Wreckin’ my flow: When something is interfering with your ability to talk, sing, think, or whatever it is you’re trying to do.
&
nbsp; Acknowledgments
I have to give it up to the Jump at the Sun peeps here—Andrea Pinkney, Lisa Holton, and Ken Geist—for letting the Cheetah Girls run wild. Also, Anath Garber, the one person who helped me find my Cheetah Girl powers. And, Lita Richardson, the one person who now has my back in the jiggy jungle. Primo thanks to the cover girl Cheetahs: Arike, Brandi, Imani, Jeni, and Mia. And to all the Cheetah Girls around the globe: Get diggity with the growl power, baby!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Deborah Gregory earned her growl power as a diva-about-town contributing writer for Essence, Vibe, and More magazines. She has showed her spots on several talk shows, including Oprah, Ricki Lake, and Maury Povich. She lives in New York City with her pooch, Cappuccino, who is featured as the Cheetah Girls’ mascot, Toto.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1999 by Deborah Gregory
ISBN 978-1-4976-7717-3
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
Open Road Integrated Media is a digital publisher and multimedia content company. Open Road creates connections between authors and their audiences by marketing its ebooks through a new proprietary online platform, which uses premium video content and social media.
Videos, Archival Documents, and New Releases
Sign up for the Open Road Media newsletter and get news delivered straight to your inbox.
Sign up now at
Hey, Ho, Hollywood! Page 8