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She knows my old daisy area rug has seen better days. It looks like someone has tiptoed through the tulips on it.
    Mom
did
say not to use her credit card, but I don’t think she will mind, since it’s something for my room. At least that’s what I tell myself. And if she does mind, too bad. I deserve a new rug, and the stool matches, so I just have to get that, too.
    I am so good at making my voice sound grown-up, the operator never asks me anything. The stool is $156, and the rug is $38. Mono better do some tricks with a banana for this kinda money, I think, giggling to myself as I place the order. “Does it come in any other color?” I ask.
    “No, just blue with the red monkey design,” the operator replies.
    The stool is real leather, not pleather, so I decide to go for it. But I have to have the cheetah picture frame, too, I suddenly realize. I
need
a new frame for my Confirmation picture sitting on the dresser. It is my favorite picture, not counting the one of me at my sixth-birthday party, standing with the piñata that I busted open all by myself. In it, I am making a face because I got a terrible stomachache after I ate everything that fell out of the piñata.
    In the Confirmation picture, I’m wearing the holy red robe for the ceremony. This is the color that symbolizes the fire of the Holy Spirit. Abuela has her arm around me and she is smiling. My silver cross is draped across the picture frame, which is supposed to be silver, but it has changed colors and looks old. My mom picked it out. I wonder if she knew it was fake silver. Surely she’d want me to have a better one if she knew. A picture like this one deserves the best frame there is!
    So I order it, along with everything else. I’m feeling dizzy from my little shopping spree—dizzy and happy, and a little bit scared. What if my mom finds out before I get enough money to pay her back?
    Well, she won’t, that’s all, I tell myself. I’ll just make sure she doesn’t. I quickly shut my math notebook and put it away.
    “Will that be all, ma’am?” the operator asks. Just as I’m about to say yes, I realize that I really need a new outfit to go to the recording studio, so I make the operator wait until I pick one out of the catalog. She adds it to the total, and when she reads me back a list of what I’ve bought, I almost chicken out, it’s so much money
    But then, I think to myself, Why should I care if Mom gets mad? She’s always mad at me anyway. No matter what I do, it’s wrong— “Don’t talk with that witch Pamela! Don’t take the Cheetah Girls too seriously! Don’t do this, don’t do that …” Well, too bad for her. I’ll do what I want.
    “Yes, that will be fine,” I tell the operator.
    That’s what you get,
Mamí
, for trying to control every move I make!
    I have just hung up, when Pucci comes into my room without even knocking. “Get out, Pucci!” I yell at him. I hate when he does that. We aren’t little anymore, you know? “What do I have to do to get rid of you?” I blurt out.
    “Get me a dog. I want a dog!” Pucci giggles. “How come we can’t have a dog?”
    “You know
Mamí
isn’t gonna let us have a dog, Pucci. Why are you bothering me?”
    And then it hits me. Why
can’t
Pucci have a dog?
I
want one, too. Nothing against Snuggly-Wiggly Pooch, but a real dog would be
la dopa
! Mom’s always complaining how allergic she is, but there must be some kind of dog that doesn’t shed. Why can’t we get one of those? Yeah … now, there’s a great idea! Right away, I start to cook up how to get us a real-live dog.
    Meanwhile, I don’t feel like doing my ballet exercises, but I know I’ve got to, to help keep my body strong. Changing into my pink leotard, I groan to myself. All this shopping is exhausting, but hey—a Cheetah Girl’s day is never done!

Chapter
5
    These days, the Cheetah Girls are really living
la vida loca
—the crazy life. Rehearsals, school, homework, and, for me, fighting with my