“Vik’s visiting for the summer. He’s been all over the world,” I said.
“Are you from India?”
Vik nodded. “Originally, yes. My family is from a small village in Tamil Nadu not far from the border with Karnataka.”
Mom raised her eyebrows. “So is mine. Where are you from?”
I tried to silently signal Mom not to monopolize Vik, but she wasn’t paying attention.
“Kothur,” said Vik.
“Amazing! Our ancestors are from the same place. My family moved to Bangalore in my grandparents’ time, though . . .”
“Mom,” I said.
Mom winked at me and smiled. “In any case, I hope you’re staying for dinner. I’ve made some old favorites.”
“That would be great,” said Vik.
“Can we help?” I asked.
“Thanks, sweetie, but everything’s already done. We’ll have watermelon for dessert, and I have some kulfi in the freezer.”
“We’re going to bake with these—we found them in the woods.” I unzipped my backpack and took out a few flowers. They smelled sweet enough to cause cavities.
“Honeysuckle! How wonderful. And wow, these are the biggest blossoms I’ve ever seen.” Mom took one apart and tasted the nectar like an expert. “Do you need help?”
“No, we’re just going to experiment.”
“Okay, sweetie. Then I’ll go and answer a few emails, but I’ll be back down soon.” Mom kissed the top of my head and went upstairs.
Vik and I got to work.
I preheated the oven, pulled out a cookbook, The Cookie Connection, and assembled ingredients: flour, butter, sugar, salt, baking soda, honey, cinnamon.
“I’m basing this on a honey cookie recipe,” I said to Vik as I flipped to the recipe. “What else do you think would be good in them?”
“How about walnuts?” Vik asked. I grabbed a handful, and we toasted them in a pan and then chopped them up.
After some experimentation, we put hot water in a measuring cup and dissolved the honeysuckle nectar by swirling the stems around.
When we were done with all the flowers, I tasted the golden liquid; it was sweet and fragrant. There wasn’t much of the solution, though—we’d have to make a very small batch if we wanted the honeysuckle to be noticeable.
We measured out the dry ingredients and Vik whisked in a pinch of ground cloves while I creamed the butter with the sugar, and then added honey. We poured in the honeysuckle nectar and combined everything. Vik and I tasted the dough: it was sweet and spicy, the flavors in perfect harmony.
“These are so good, they’re going to cause trouble,” said Vik.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“People will fight each other to eat them first.”
“Ha!”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to face a night of Riya and Jules antagonizing each other and Fletcher being mean to Cole. If only these cookies could make people love each other. Be sweet and kind. No bickering sisters, no mean boys.
We rolled little balls, dipped them in superfine sugar, put them on parchment-lined cookie sheets, popped them in the oven, and set the timer. I grabbed a notebook and pen and wrote down the recipe while it was still fresh in my mind. If these cookies turned out as good as I thought, I’d make some more and take them to Mrs. T. In terms of baking, Vik had done more to help me in a few hours than Dad had done in a week.
“So, Mimi, about these delightful honeysuckle cookies,” Vik said in an excellent Puffy Fay imitation. He was a fan! “Tell me the story behind them.”
“Why, yes, Chef Fay, I’d love to,” I said.
“Please, call me Puffy,” said Vik.
I snickered. “Well, you see, Puffy, my friend Vik and I found this beautiful honeysuckle in the woods, and it inspired me to rethink my honey cookies. Vik had the brain wave to add walnuts and cloves so the bitter and spicy flavors would enhance the sweetness of the honey and the wildness of the honeysuckle.”
“Yes? Do tell me more,” said Puffy-Vik. He rested his chin in his hands and looked at me intently.
“I hoped the sweet cookies would inspire people to be more loving and kind to each other. And they did, and we had the most pleasant dinner ever in our house.”
“Cookies for world peace? That’s quite an accomplishment for such a young person,” said Puffy-Vik.
“Well, I try,” I said with a small bow.
“I could use a bright young mind like you. How would you like to work together? You could guest star on my show, and we could collaborate on a cookbook. We could go on a world tour and do cooking demonstrations.”
“That would be a dream come true, Chef Fay,” I said. Then I sighed. “Forget about meeting Puffy Fay. First I have to figure out how to get to the next round of the While Away’s contest.”
“You’re clearly an awesome baker. What’s the matter?”
“I can’t figure out what to make that fits the theme of leaves.”
Vik snorted. “Well, that’s a weird theme.”
“Right? Anyway, my leaf-shaped sugar cookies didn’t go over well.”
“You might be overthinking it. Bake what you like to bake, and figure out afterward how it fits with leaves.”
“Maybe,” I said.
The timer went off, and I peeked through the oven door. The cookies were ready.
I took the sheet out and set it on the counter. The cookies were golden brown and smelled of spices, with a faint flowery note of honeysuckle.
“It’s too bad we didn’t have more honeysuckle,” said Vik. “Only a dozen cookies. But they smell incredible.”
“Try one,” I said.
But then Dad walked into the kitchen, scanning the counters for snacks.
I stood in front of the cookies and shielded them from view until he’d grabbed a jar of peanuts and left the room.
Mom came in. “Ready for dinner?” she asked.
Vik and I set the dining room table as everyone else trickled in. Cole and Fletcher had come, but unfortunately for Henry, Lily couldn’t make it. The older kids said hi to Vik and me and then proceeded to ignore us completely. They sat at one end of the table while Vik and I sat at the other, snickering at Dad’s relentless peanut munching while Mom finished up in the kitchen.
“Riya, we could use your help choreographing some of the more complicated scenes in the play. You have such an eye for movement. It’s remarkable how awkward some of the cast is.” Fletcher ruffled his hair and gave Riya a coy look.
“I doubt you need me. Your director is great,” said Riya with a laugh.
Henry furrowed his brow. “Yeah. Don’t complicate things.”
“How’s your summer going, Cole? Still working on robotics?” Jules asked in a weird high-pitched voice.
“Yeah,” said Cole, staring at the table, then at Riya.
“Robots? How droll, Cory,” Fletcher said.
“It’s Cole. Stop being such a pig!” Jules said.
“Jules. Chill.” Riya returned to tapping on her phone.
Jules spluttered, “Chill? Why don’t you—”
“Here we go,” said Mom. My mouth watered as she laid a serving bowl full of steaming kothu chapati on the table. It was a delicious dish made from sliced and shredded Indian flatbreads, or chapatis, garlic, ginger, vegetables, spices, and tonight, Mom’s famous chicken curry. The shredded bread resembled noodles—crispy on the edges and full of flavor from the sauce soaked into them. “Can someone help me bring out the rest?”
Henry and I went into the kitchen with Mom and returned with green beans with coconut, lemon rice, and a salad called kosambari, made with cucumber, tomatoes, and soaked dal. Riya and Jules continued bickering, but they quieted down once Mom came in with a bowl of creamy homemade yogurt.
“This looks delicious,” said Vik to Mom. “Thanks so much for letting me join you.”
“It’s our pleasure,” said Mom. “We’re always happy to welcome new friends at our table.” Mom winked a
t me, and I gave her a Mimi wink back.
It was finally time to dig in. Everyone passed bowls around until there was a traffic jam in front of Dad, who had given himself almost half the kothu chapati.
“Dad, can you please pass the bowl?” I asked. He frowned and handed it to Henry.
It was my favorite meal. The slivers of bread were full of vegetables and tender chicken, salty and chewy and the perfect amount of spicy. The green beans were sweet with pops of pungent flavor from black mustard seeds and complemented the lemony rice. The salad and yogurt cooled everything off.
Everyone stuffed themselves and raved about the food. Henry and Fletcher chatted about the play. Riya tossed her hair and got up to twirl or saunter to the kitchen to bring back napkins and refill her water glass. Jules, doing her best Riya impression, tried to toss her hair, but it didn’t have the same effect in a ponytail, and her attempts at sauntering were more like stomping. Cole chewed slowly, glancing at Riya from time to time. Vik took second helpings of everything.
“It’s like being home again,” he said with a wistful look.
I was almost done with the deliciousness on my plate when Dad started coughing. At first everyone ignored it, but when he didn’t stop, eight pairs of eyes turned toward him. Dad’s face turned red, and his nose ran, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
“Paul, are you okay?” Mom asked.
Dad waved her away and took a sip of water. Everyone went back to eating.
I thought about the contest again. Maybe I could make a batch of macarons in the shape of a leaf? Mom’s phone rang, and she gave my shoulder a squeeze as she left the room to answer it.
Then I glanced at Dad.
His face had turned reddish-purple. He looked like he was trying to smile, but it quickly turned into a grimace, and he began shaking his head. He wasn’t making a sound. He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair, and put his hands to his throat.
“He’s choking!” I cried. I stood up and knocked over my own chair. “Somebody help!” My body went cold and I felt like I couldn’t get enough air either.
Cole and Fletcher didn’t move a muscle. Riya froze with her fork halfway to her mouth like she’d been turned to stone. Jules ran out of the room. Henry jumped up, but Vik had already raced around to stand behind Dad and stretch his arms around Dad’s waist. His hands were steady as he made a fist and wrapped his other hand around it, then pushed forcefully into Dad’s belly. One push, then two.
Nothing happened. Dad’s eyes bulged. I held my breath and felt my head pound.
On Vik’s third try, Dad coughed up a wad of food and hunched over with his hands on his thighs, taking great heaving breaths. Dad put his hands over his face for the next few moments as he wheezed and coughed hideously. Jules burst into the room with Mom.
“Paul!”
“I’m okay,” Dad said in a ragged voice between coughs. Jules gaped at him. Mom rushed to Dad and rubbed his back while Vik returned to his seat.
Once it was obvious that Dad was all right, Mom spoke. “Vik, we can’t thank you enough.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “You saved Paul’s life.”
Dad nodded, holding on to the table for support.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” Henry asked.
“It’s nothing,” Vik said, not looking at Henry.
“Well, it’s a big deal to us,” said Henry. Riya and Jules nodded.
I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say.
CHAPTER 9
WEIRD AND WEIRDER
After a few minutes, Dad declared himself back to normal.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine. You guys should enjoy the rest of the night. I insist,” he said with a nod. “I’m going upstairs to shower.”
The rest of us cleaned up. I used a paper towel to grab the wad of bread and chicken on the floor near Dad’s seat. It was a lot of food; no wonder he’d choked on it. Something was really off with Dad. He used to savor foods’ flavors, but now he was just shoveling everything down.
Mom went upstairs to check on Dad. Everyone else moved to the backyard, where the sun hung low in the sky like a blazing blood orange.
“Hey, Riya, can you think about what I asked you?” Cole said, ducking his head in an effort to get her to look up.
Riya nodded absently as she grabbed one foot and stretched while looking at her phone.
Jules found the soccer ball and kicked it to Cole. “Let’s kick the ball around,” she said.
“Sure.” Cole wiped his hands on his shorts. “I’m not that good, though.”
“I’ll play,” Henry said.
“Me too,” Vik said. “How about you, Mimi?” He took the ball, dribbled it a few feet, and booted it to me.
I stuck my foot out and miraculously managed to stop the ball. “I guess so,” I said.
Jules beamed. “Anyone else?”
“I’m fine right here,” said Fletcher, watching Riya, who was making a show of rising slowly onto the very tips of her toes with her arms extended gracefully.
“Pass it here,” Vik said.
“You might want to back up.” Jules laughed. “Mimi doesn’t know her own strength sometimes.”
Low blow, Jules, I thought.
Vik laughed and looked to me.
I can do this, I thought. At least there were no platters to break this time.
I held my breath and kicked the ball toward Vik. It stayed on the ground, didn’t go too fast or too slow, and came within a couple of feet of where I was trying to send it.
Maybe I wasn’t that bad, after all.
Vik kicked the ball to Jules, who took a step back and prepared to send it to Cole.
“Dessert!” Mom called from the porch. She made her way to the patio holding a platter of watermelon and the plate of honeysuckle cookies. The older boys swarmed around her while Vik and I brought up the rear.
“Is Dad okay?” I asked.
Mom nodded. “He’s fine. He asked about dessert, but I told him he’d had enough food for tonight.”
I agreed.
“These smell incredible.” Cole sniffed a cookie. “What kind are they?”
“Cinnamon-honey with a twist,” I said. “Vik and I added honeysuckle we found in the woods.”
“Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, with sweet musk-roses and with eglantine,” said Henry, taking a couple.
“Is that hygienic?” Riya asked suspiciously. “No thanks, I’ll pass.” She sat at the patio table and engrossed herself in her phone again while Fletcher grabbed cookies for himself.
“Guys! Come on, let’s play,” said Jules, still on the grass with the soccer ball.
“How about you, Vik? Mimi?” Mom asked.
As I reached for a cookie, I felt someone brush past my shoulder and lunge for the platter. “These are the most delicious things I’ve ever had,” said Cole as he grabbed more cookies.
“Leave some for the rest of us!” Fletcher elbowed me out of the way and snatched what was left.
And just like that, all the cookies were gone. I frowned; I hadn’t even gotten a chance to try the finished product. Oh well. At least I knew what the dough tasted like.
“Well then,” said Mom, shaking her head in a bemused way. “I’ll leave the watermelon here. I’ll be inside if you need me.” Mom set the platter on the patio table with some napkins and went into the house.
“These look super, Mimi,” said Henry. His phone buzzed. “It’s Lily. She feels bad she couldn’t make it tonight. I’ll show her what she’s missing.” He held his phone in front of his face and clicked while he took a bite.
“Come on. Back to soccer.” Vik tilted his head toward Jules, and I followed him reluctantly.
“Wow.” Cole shook his shaggy head at Jules, who was kneeing the soccer ball expertly.
“Wow, what?” said Jules, bouncing the ball off an ankle.
“You’re an amazing soccer player.”
“Thanks, Cole,
” Jules said. She blushed and bounced the ball faster.
“She made varsity as a freshman, you know,” Fletcher said, smoothing his blond hair behind his ear and moving to stand between Jules and Cole. “And she didn’t miss a penalty kick all year. She’s the most talented player the school’s had in years.”
“Fletcher! I didn’t realize you’d noticed,” said Jules, heading the ball and then catching it with her ankle.
“I notice everything about you, Jules,” Fletcher said. He flipped his hair in front of his eyes again.
Jules let the ball fall to the ground and put her hand on her hip. “Yeah, sure.”
Jules was right to be skeptical. Since when had Fletcher paid any attention to her?
“I haven’t known you as long, but I’ve noticed everything about you, too, Jules,” Cole said, moving around to her side. “Like the way your smile is slightly lopsided when you’re thinking, and how your hair shimmers in the light. May I?” He reached out and touched Jules’s dark ponytail, and she looked like he’d given her a birthday present.
“Hands off, interloper. I saw her first,” Fletcher declared.
Jules clearly didn’t know what to make of this, and neither did I. Interloper?
“Your family is so entertaining,” Vik whispered. “This is better than anything on TV.”
“Ha,” I said half-heartedly.
Cole and Fletcher each grabbed one of Jules’s hands and pulled like she was the rope in a game of tug-of-war. She looked from one to the other as they spoke to her adoringly.
When Fletcher called her “my sweet,” Jules looked over to Riya, who was still seated at the patio table but was now bent to one side, stretching. Jules wrenched her hands away from the boys. “You’ve always been under Riya’s thumb,” she said, glaring at Fletcher. “But you.” She turned to Cole. “How could you?”
Cole stepped back and spread his hands. “How could I what?”
“How could you mock me like this?”
“But I’m not mocking you. Oh, Jules, you’re perfect, divine!” Cole tenderly clasped her hand again.
“All you’ve done since we met is ogle Riya. Now I’m supposed to believe you think I’m divine?”
“I only looked at her because I was afraid,” Cole said. “Afraid that if I looked at you, you’d be able to see straight into my heart and know how I felt.”
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