Register Free To Download Files | File Name: Perfect Chemistry Book PDF. PERFECT CHEMISTRY BOOK. Download: Perfect Chemistry Book. PERFECT. [PDF] Perfect Chemistry. Perfect Chemistry. Book Review. A whole new electronic book with an all new viewpoint. Of course, it really is enjoy, nonetheless an. “Book Review of Perfect Chemistry written by Simone Elkeles” came to a completion. On this occasion, the writer would like to thank all of people who.
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1 Brittany Everyone knows I'm perfect. My life is perfect. My clothes are perfect. Even my family is perfect. And altho. When Brittany Ellis walks into chemistry class on the first day of senior year, she has no clue that her carefully created “perfect” life is about to unravel before her. cover image of Perfect Chemistry. Perfect Chemistry. Perfect Chemistry (Series). Book 1. Simone Elkeles Author (). cover image of Perfect Chemistry.
I take a deep breath. But I was itching to make Little Miss Perfecta stumble in her introduction of me. Peterson was blaming me as much as she blamed Alex. Maybe in a word war I could make a good showing, but definitely not in a fistfight. As I slip new leak-proof underwear on her and slide her legs into a fresh pair of sweats, Baghda watches from the sidelines.
Young adult Rating: Dependable Genre: Contemporary realistic fiction; Subject: Social classes--Juvenile fiction; Dating Social customs --Juvenile fiction; Gangs-Juvenile fiction; Books--Reviews; When Brittany and Alex are forced to sit together in chemistry class, they have no idea how upside-down they will make each other's worlds.
Brittany attempts to maintain her flawless image as head cheerleader. Alex has a roughened gangster image, which he uses to protect his family after is father is killed. Both teenagers hate each other at first. So much so that Alex takes a bet offering him a new car if he can get Brittany to sleep with him.
As he gets to know Brittany throughout the year, his feelings soften. Brittany also finds in Alex a sincere confidant and a loyal friend. While trying to visit Brittany, Alex is arrested. His release puts him in debt to the leader of his gang, who forces him to deal drugs. Touch yourself, Brit. Take off your shirt and touch yourself. Not now, at least. You mad? Things that get your heart racing and your blood pumping, you know? Pure adrenaline rush.
Get it? He should have thought about that before he took the Big 8 and bounced without paying up. As if Hector would ever let that happen. As if I would ever let that happen. When Hector sends me to collect, I do it. I may not like doing it, but I do it.
Nobody wants to face Chuy. Technically my hands are clean of drugs. Okay, so drug money does touch my hands quite frequently, but I just hand it over to Hector. It makes me a pawn, I know.
He likes coming with me. I promise. I need collateral. I eye his car. Or shoot anyone. At the first glance of my Glock, Blake holds out his keys. Please, no. I toss the keys to him. I always come through. Most of the students at Fairfield eat outside until late October, when the Illinois winter forces us to sit in the cafeteria during lunch period.
My friend Lucky, with his oversized red shirt and black jeans, slaps me on the back as he parks his butt next to me with a cafeteria tray balanced on his hand. I swear Brittany Ellis hates you like the plague, man. That one incident cost me a shitload of money having to buy new books. Knowing her, she had it professionally dyes to match the exact shade of her sapphire eyes. Paco pointed it out yesterday night when we hung out.
Come on, Alex. Look at her. Long, shiny hair, aristocratic nose, slightly tanned arms with a hint of muscle in her biceps to make you wonder if she works out, full lips that when she smiles you think world peace is possible if everyone had her smile.
I shove those thoughts from my mind. Call it my defense mechanism. Call it cockiness. Julio is my most prized possession, an old Honda Nighthawk motorcycle. I rescued it from a dump and turned it into a sleek ride.
Rebuilding the bike took me forever. Lucky is not backing down. Time to either back down myself or play the game. The most popular white chick at school would sure as hell learn a lot by hanging with me. Easy as a fight between Folks and Peoplerival gangs on a Saturday night.
You know, that give-and-take wordplay that heightens your awareness of the opposite sex. I can kill two birds with one stone: Might even be fun. I imagine the entire school witnessing the pristine white chick drooling over the Mexicano she vowed to hate.
I hold out my hand. I bet we could make muchos billetes on that thing. We can title it Brittany Goes South of the Border. Stupid, maybe. But not suicide.
While the other guys drool over Leticia and talk to her friends, Paco and I are left alone by the tree. Paco nudges me. Nothing like a little foreplay in chemistry class to spark things up. I stare uncomfortably at the food I brought from home. Thanks to Paco everything looks like mierda now. He should seriously know better.
As I have that though, I feel something drop on my pants. Yes, a big blob of wet, gloppy stuff passing as taco mean lands right on the crotch of my faded jeans. I flick the mystery meat off my crotch. A big, greasy stain lingers. I turn back to Paco. I wait at the tree while other kids throw away their lunches and head back inside. Before I know it, music starts playing through the loudspeakers and Paco is nowhere in sight.
Gritting my teeth, I walk to chemistry with my books strategically placed in front of my crotch, with two minutes to spare. I slide onto the stool and push it as close to the lab table as possible, hiding the stain. Brittany walks into the room, her sunshine hair falling down the front of her chest, ending in perfect little curls that bounce when she walks.
Instead of that perfection turning me on, it makes me want to mess it all up. I wink at her when she glances at me. She huffs and pulls her stool as far away from me as possible. Remembering Mrs. Then I turn to the pom-pom chick sitting next to me. No thanks, Alex. You want to interview for the position? She curls her pink-frosted top lip and sneers at me.
Tease her into wanting you. She turns away from me. Peterson calls the class to attention. Peterson says as she stands in front of our table and holds out the hat. The thought of Alex controlling the grade I receive in this class is overwhelming me. Grades to my parents are a reflection of your worth. I reach into the hat and pull out a little white slip of paper. I open it slowly while I bite my lower lip in anticipation. Alex leans over and reads the paper with a confused look on his face.
Peterson shoots Alex a warning glare. Now, either ask the question again without using foul language or join me after school. What exactly are hand warmers? We use them to warm our hands. Through the window, his friend is waving to him.
Alex grabs his books and stands. Peterson turns around. Put them back on the lab table. She holds out her hand. Zero tolerance. You want a suspension? Scowling, he slowly places the bandanna in her hand. Peterson sucks in her breath when she snatches the bandanna from his fingers. The students, one by one, start laughing. Colin laughs the loudest. My greatgrandma has the same problem. I stand up, my stool scraping the floor. Alex is about to say something to me when Mrs. While Mrs. Peterson is trying to calm the rest of the class, I think about my short-lived success in avoiding Carmen Sanchez.
Aguirre clears his throat. The guy is an absolute genius. She glares at Brittany and Colin. Oh, but she was perfectly content watching Mrs.
Colin steps forward. Let me assure you as your new principal my goal is to bridge any gap in the school culture that negates that motto. Aguirre and I are on the same page. In light of that. And Colin. Peterson cuts him off with a wave of her hand. Into her eyes, which have sympathy written all over them. The last time a teacher looked at me like that, it was in first grade right after my dad was shot. You might want to wait a month or two before you make a statement like that.
Finish school and graduate without dropping out. I shove the bandanna into my back pocket. She has no clue how much my life outside of school leaks into the life I lead inside of school.
Kinda blows my theories out of the water. That woman sure does wield those blue detention slips and threats of essays like weapons. As I change into my gym clothes, I think of what happened in Dr. Peterson was blaming me as much as she blamed Alex.
I clutch my gym shirt to my chest as Carmen Sanchez comes into view. She steps closer. I want to step back. Actually, I want to run. How fitting. I bet it was as expensive as your dye job.
I have my own. Girls like you want every guy to like them, just so you can have them when you decide you want them. Would you come to school with a garbage bag over your head? Or would you stay holed up in your big house and never come out? Really look at her. It collides with the locker behind me. The consequences of me coming home bruised and having been in a fight are insurmountable.
My mom will be furious and blame the entire thing on me for not preventing it from happening. When stressful stuff happens, my parents talk about sending Shelley away. You want to be suspended? She chuckles. Instead of cowering next to my locker, I stand tall. Carmen tries again to push my shoulder, but this time I manage to swat her arm away. A nonfriend. A nonfriend who just might save my face from getting bashed in. Isabels comes toward us, her dark brown hair in a high ponytail that sways when she walks.
I can tell by the way her words make Carmen back off. Coach Bautista appears behind Carmen. Miss Ellis and Miss Avila, join the rest of your classmates in the gym. Her answer is a nod. I work at his auto body shop every day after school.
Covered in grease and oil from working on the Civic, I roll out from under the car. Yeah, I remember those days. I wonder if her parents are parole officers. That woman sure likes discipline. I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
Hector Martinez, the guy who runs the Latino Blood from behind the scenes. Never let Hector hear you question your commitment to the Blood. Play it safe. He paid his dues, so now he can sit back while the younger LB members are on the front lines. How the hell did I ever think I could lure the very beautiful, very rich, and very white Brittany Ellis into my very poor, very Mexican, and very dark life? Diego Vasquez, a guy from school, was born on the north side of Fairfield.
Of course, my friends consider him a white guy even though his skin is darker than mine. Or Latino blood, for that matter. In Fairfield, where you were born defines who you are. A horn beeps loudly in front of the garage. Enrique presses the button to raise the large garage door. Everyone in the garage ducks as the police shine their flashlights through the windows. I crouch behind a large tool drawer, holding my breath. The last thing I need is attempted murder on my record.
A gang member rarely avoids the cops. Or jail time. He finally saved enough to open this shop, and now four high school punks could ruin his dream if anyone makes a sound. The cops will take my cousin, with his old LB tattoos on the back of his neck, in right along with the rest of us. The door to the shop jiggles.
I wince and pray please be locked. The cops give up on the door, then shine their flashlights in the garage again. I wonder who tipped them offnobody in this neighborhood would narc.
A secret code of silence and affiliation keeps families safe. After what seems like forever, the cops drive away. I missed you tonight. I can smell the mota radiating off her. I grab both her wrists and pull them aside, all the time wondering how my tough-as-nails ex-girlfriend turned into a toughas-nails bitch. After I found her sleeping around, it took me a while to get over it, get over her. Carmen whips around, stalks back to the car, and slides into the backseat.
The sounds of heavy kissing and moaning fill the auto shop. We need you, man. Paco and this Satin Hood are gonna fight at Gilson Park tonight. The Hood never fight fair, you know. We slow down a block before we reach the park. The tension in the air is thick, I can feel it in my bones. Where is Paco? Is he getting the shit kicked out of him in the back of an alley?
Shadows move, making my hair stand on end. Everything looks menacing, even the trees blowing in the wind. During the day, Gilson Park resembles any other suburban park. This is our territory. Three blocks away are mansions and million-dollar houses. Right here, in the real world, the street war rages on. The streetlights shining on the park are out, but I can tell which on is Paco right away because of his short body and trademark stance resembling that of a wrestler about to start a match.
Because walking down the street are five more Hoods. Ready to fight with my best friend, I push away thoughts that this confrontation could end with all of us in the morgue.
If I go into a fight with confidence and fire, without thinking of the consequences, I win. I rush toward Paco and the Satin Hood before the rest of his friends reach them. Now that I have a closer look, I realize these guys are all fresh. New members, full of piss and vinegar and not much else. New members I can take. But new members who pack heat are dangerous.
Javier, Carmen, Sam, and Raul stand next to me. Our homegirl can hold her own in a fight, and her fingernails are downright deadly. The guy I pulled off Paco stands up and points to me. Oh, man. A week later he finally struts into class. It pisses me off, because no matter how bad my home life is, I come to school.
Peterson walks into class. When she sees Alex, I think she seems relieved. Rough outlines are due in two weeks. Alex is behinds us somewhere, talking with his friends in Spanish. Colin squeezes my hand. Until she hires someone else I have to help out more. He stops and pulls his hand from mine. You gonna make some time for me, or what? No thanks.
Not to be a prick, but I want alone time. I do, too. School rules. Not yours. I put my hand on my hip and glare at Alex. Your boyfriend is the ape, not me. I set my books down and realize Alex is staring at me, almost as if he stares long enough he might be able to see the real me.
No chance of that because I hide my true self from everyone. I stare back, because two can play this game. His shirt outlines muscles you can get only from manual labor or working out regularly. Those eyes are piercing mine, and I can swear at this moment he senses the real me. Just Brittany. Peterson wanders by us, saving me from answering. Alex, we missed you last week.
What happened? I look at Alex, wide-eyed. The doc stapled me back together. Wanna see? He asks as he starts pulling up his sleeve. I slap a hand over my eyes. You were in a knife fight. He looks at me with chocolate brown eyes that are so intense I swear they could hypnotize someone. My gaze drops to his lips. For less than a nanosecond, I can almost feel them coming closer. Would his lips be hard on mine, or soft? Is he a slow kisser, or hungry and fast like his personality?
I must be sleep-deprived. Peterson appears in front of us. I put on a fake smile. Peterson watches. We need to dissolve sixty grams of sodium acetate and one hundred millimeters of water at seventy degrees. I look up and realize Mrs.
Peterson is gone. I make my voice sound high and breathless, like a Southern debutante. He expected to hear something like that come out of my mouth. And gave it right back to me with his own ridiculous scenario, which is actually unsettling because it makes us similar in some twisted way.
I put a hand on my chest and gasp, playing along. Unlike you, I take this class seriously. Alex is a guy who thrives on challenges. But this time the tough guy is going to lose. He closes his own book and stares at me, his jaw set.
I scan the page, then my notes. Then back at the page again. One hundred degrees. At home, my life is dictated by my mom and dad. I need to keep it that way, because if I have no control in every aspect of my life I might as well be a mannequin. His breathing slows as I sit up on my knees and lean into him. I can feel him restraining himself. I place his hand against my cheek so it cups my face and I hear him groan.
I want to smile because his reaction proves I have the power. Time stops again. Then I turn my head into his hand and kiss the inside of his palm. Latino with the big ego got bested by a ditzy, blond bimbo. She had me totally under her spell a minute ago.
Then the pretty witch turned my game around so she was the one with the upper hand. When I laugh louder, she whacks my arm with the heavy chem book. My bad arm. I wince. She sucks in her breath and scoots away. Then again, her blood probably runs blue. The girl is even whiter than she usually is. Should I tell her I was spacing out while thinking about us having sex? Keep it down. Alex, next time come to school with that thing bandaged. Now go get cleaned up.
If I tell her I need help walking because I feel faint, will she believe me and come to my rescue? Her hands are shaking. That turned me on, because emotional chicks scare me. Oh, God, if Mrs.
She looks down and around and everywhere except directly at me. Look at me. Look at me, dammit. I hate you. But he does have family in Atencingo, the same small town where my mom has cousins in Mexico. Miss Koto has me sit down on one of the examining tables.
I hold my breath, waiting for the stinging to recede. Miss Koto turns around, stunned. My plans with Brittany are not working. But the thought of Lucky on my morotcycle is more painful than the antiseptic crap Miss Koto is now rubbing on my wound.
Or so I thought. I look over at Brittany. I wish we were back in the library. I could swear back there she was thinking about getting it on with me. Gracias a Dios the nurse walks over to the medicine cabinet.
First, I need to stop thinking about getting naked with her in front of Miss Koto. Second, I want Brittany to myself. Probably with Burro Face. She bites her bottom lip that she thinks is glossed with the wrong color. Brittany gathers her books.
I grab my book and hurry into the hallway after her. I always collect debts. Mmm, dangerous. I wink at her. Thankfully Mrs. My mom, wearing her pink velour cover-up, is lounging on a chaise reading some home-design magazine.
Mom puts down her magazine, her face tight and stern. No later than ten thirty. If you have to leave the movie early to get home on time, so be it. Colin is standing on our front stoop with a dozen red roses in his hand. I hug Colin and give him a kiss, a real one on the lips.
I hum happily as I walk to the kitchen, smelling their sweet fragrance. Putting water in a vase, I wonder if Alex ever brought his girlfriend flowers. Being with Colin is so … Boring? Colin flashes me his super white million-dollar smile.
As if a girl with a curfew equals high morals. In a suite right behind home plate. Will we be back by ten thirty? Colin, you just called my mom a MILF! And ties to his gang in Mexico aren't easy to break, even when Carlos is hundreds of miles away.
Living with one of Alex's college professors in the Colorado suburbs, Carlos feels completely out of place. He's even more thrown by his sudden feelings for the professor's daughter, Kiara. She's nothing like the wild girls he's usually drawn to. But Carlos and Kiara soon discover that in matters of the heart, the rules of attraction might overpower the dangers and differences keeping them apart. You can unsubscribe from newsletters at any time by clicking the unsubscribe link in any newsletter.