Rocking the Pink Read Online Free Page B

Rocking the Pink
Book: Rocking the Pink Read Online Free
Author: Laura Roppé
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illustrious history. Francis Ford Coppola! Carol Burnett! Lloyd Bridges! Jim Morrison! My peeps!
    After my first week of school, Dad called to check up on me.

    â€œTell me the name of a fellow theater student who’ll be famous one day,” he challenged.
    I didn’t hesitate: “That’s easy, Dad: Jack Black.”
    â€œWell, that’s an easy one to remember,” Dad responded, sounding excited.
    Back in the dorms, whenever I was around Naimah, I tried, to the best of my ability, to “act like I’d been there before,” just as Brad had always coached me.
    Me? Verging on excited hysteria at all times? No sirree!
    Naimah had turned out to be the coolest person I’d ever met, and I didn’t want to alienate her by revealing my true personality. She was so cool, in fact, she was dating the biggest basketball star at UCLA. Once, I came home to the suite to find her and her boyfriend lounging on our no-frills dorm couch with Mike Tyson. Yeah, that Mike Tyson—the famous heavyweight boxer who was, back then, still undefeated and terrifying. Naimah introduced me to “Mike” and let me “chill” with their party in our sitting room. (Ever since our complicit run-in with the law, I’d earned a standing invitation to “hang” with Naimah and her friends—that is, if I didn’t talk too much.) I sat there, staring at Iron Mike Tyson, such an anomaly in my dorm room, and tried to look unimpressed and relaxed.
    His hardscrabble youth was etched all over his face, even as he laughed and bantered with Naimah’s boyfriend. His laugh was unexpectedly high-pitched. Good God, the man’s hands were massive. Those hands could kill you with one punch, I’d read somewhere.
    Other than squeaking out a chipmunklike “hello” when Naimah briefly introduced me, I didn’t utter a word the entire night.

    Â 
    Â 
    As the school year progressed, Naimah and I encountered a troubling situation: Roommate No. 5’s boyfriend had slept over every single night for the past two months. Why was this a problem, you wonder, since it was in the adjacent bedroom in my suite? Well, how about you try sharing one bathroom the size of a broom closet with five other girls, and then add one bonus guy on top of that? I’m certain you’d agree in a flash that this was an intolerable situation. But we didn’t want to create World War III. Our living quarters were close enough without our creating conflict between the roommates.
    Naimah and I hatched our plan.
    As luck would have it, Naimah worked in the UCLA admissions office, so she was able to swipe one sheet of official UCLA letterhead. And on that official UCLA letterhead, I weaved my magic, writing a letter that went a little something like this:
    March 3, 1989
    Â 
    To the residents of Hitch Suites, Room D-6:
    It has come to our attention that one of you has been permanently housing a nonresident in your suite. Please consult your Hitch Suites Student Manual, section A.6, which explicitly prohibits nonresidents from staying overnight in any university housing complex.
    We do not know which of you has committed this infraction, and we do not wish to know. If we receive any further information that a nonresident is residing in your rooms at any time, then all residents of Hitch Suites, Room D-6, shall
be evicted with no additional warning. In that event, no refunds will be provided.
    Â 
    Sincerely,
    Director of Student Housing, UCLA
    I then made six copies of this missive and placed a copy in each roommate’s student mailbox, including Naimah’s and mine. In due course that day, each girl collected her mail and was surprised to receive the startling letter. Apparently, none of the girls had noticed that the letter was not signed, nor that the “Director of Student Housing” did not even identify him/herself. No one even remotely suspected that Naimah and I were the fraudulent

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