Meet Felicia, 14-year-old student at the Manhattan Free Children’s School (also known as the Pound). In Felicia's world, she and her best friends, Jess and Kat, like to refer to themselves as the Sex Kittens, and the boys they know as the Horn Dawgs.
Felicia is getting tired of waiting for a Horn Dawg to notice her uniqueness, however. So she devises a project she and the object of her affection, Matthew the Science Brain, can work on together. Felicia is determined to discover the Secret of Love with Matthew while winning both Matthew’s heart and the science fair. But love has other plans.
(Doesn’t it always?)
From the Hardcover edition.
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|Title of eBook: Sex Kittens and Horn Dawgs Fall in Love|
|Release Date: 12-18-2007|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Random House Children's Books|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Sex Kittens and...|
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Sex Kittens and Horn Dawgs Fall in Love
My Dubious Mental State Gets an Ass-Whupping from the Great Beyond
Kitten meets Dawg. Soon,
A warm yellow rain anoints
The hydrant of love.
"You promised me some animal poems, yes?"
Mr. Frasconi is looking at me with one silvery eyebrow lifted a half-inch higher than the other. You would think I'd know better than to try and pull a fast one on a world-famous poet, but apparently, I don't.
"Um," I say, oozing lameness. "That is an animal poem. Kitten. Dawg. Get it?"
"It's a love poem, Fe-li-ci-a." He always gives my name four syllables. When you're writing a lot of haiku, like I have been lately, you automatically count the syllables in everything. Rice Krispies, three. Matthew Dwyer, four. Mrs. Felicia Dwyer, seven. Not that I'd really take his name once we're married, my mom would go all Gloria Steinem on me.
Mr. Frasconi sees my mind wandering and repeats, for emphasis (insert Meaningful Echo Effect here): "A looooooooove pooooooooeeeemm." Poem, two syllables. Some people think it's one. Not me.
Me, Fe-li-ci-a! Po-et-ess, Total Mess, Felicia the lovelorn. Whose name means happiness, HA!
"This Kitten in your poem, she is you? And the 'Dawg'--interesting spelling--still the same boy? The one with the rabbits?" Mr. Frasconi can never remember Matthew's name, which is odd, since he's been read-ing my unrequitedly-in-love-with-Matthew poetry since late September and now it's February, and that is like ten zillion poems by now. But I guess I don't call Matthew Matthew in the poems. Usually it's just "him," or "you," or "O, perfect one!" or "unattainable boy of mystery."...