Into the Mix #4

by Diane Muldrow

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  cooking tips From the chef Girls!

  For Kelly Muldrow—D.M.

  CROSSET & DUNLAP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Text copyright @ 2002 by Diane Muldrow. Interior illustrations copyright © 2002 by Barbara Pollak. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York. New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. S.A.

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the original edition

  eISBN : 978-1-101-22237-9

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2003268848

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  Chapter 1

  To: mooretimes2; qtpie490; BrooklynNatasha

  From: happyface

  Re: end-of-the-summer bash!

  This summer has been awesome! Can u come over to my house on Saturday at 1:00 for one last pool party? LMK!

  No need to bring anything-I’ve got it covered!

  Mwa! Peichi

  Molly Moore sighed. “I can’t believe summer’s over,” she said as she hit “Reply.” She typed:GR8! WFM. And Manda 2! Can’t W8.

  xxxoo

  “W8? I’ve never seen that one,” said Molly’s twin, Amanda. Where did you see that?

  “I just made it up!” Molly told her. “It means ‘wait.”’

  Amanda giggled. “I figured that out,” she said. “Look! Shawn replied.” Amanda clicked on Shawn Jordan’s e-mail message.

  To: happyface; mooretimes2; BrooklynNatasha

  From: qtpie490

  Re: end-of-the-summer bash!

  I’ll be there! Can’t wait.

  Shawn

  “That just leaves Natasha,” said Amanda. “I wonder if she’ll be allowed to come.”

  “I hope so,” said Molly. “Let’s instant message Shawn. Maybe she’s still up.” Molly began to type.

  To : qtpie490

  From: mooretimes2

  mooretimes2: Wuzzup qtpie Shawn? We can’t WAIT to C u 2 morrow and hang out! FINALLY! It’s been forever! Your house or ours? BFFL!

  A moment later. Shawn Jordans reply flashed across the screen. Shawn was the twins best friend. She had just returned from visiting her grandmother and cousins in South Carolina.

  qtpie490: How about my place? So you can see G’ma Ruthie ... who is telling me 2 go 2 bed right now! TTUL! Mwa! <3 <3 <3

  “Well, I don’t feel like going to bed now.” Amanda said. “I cant sleep. I’m too excited about school starting.”

  “Excited?” Molly said. “I’m nervous!”

  “I’ll bet our new school has a website. Let’s check it out.” Amanda said.

  “Aaagh!” Molly suddenly cried out.

  “Come on, Molls, school won’t be that bad—uh, oh, hi Dad,” Amanda said with a giggle. “So that’s what scared you!”

  “Hi, girls! What are you doing down here so late?” asked Mr. Moore. “I thought you were in bed.”

  “Oh, we couldn’t sleep,” said Molly. “What are you doing down here. Dad? Did you come downstairs for some cookies?”

  “Cookies?” asked Dad innocently. “Oh, no. Just checking to make sure the doors are locked, that sort of thing.” He yawned. “You know, as long as I’m down here, I think I’ll get a nice, cold glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge.”

  The twins giggled. The family knew Dad loved his late-night snacks, even though he fried to hide them.

  “Here it is!” said Amanda. She’d found the website for Windsor Middle School. They looked at the photos of the teachers and classes and sports teams, and read all about what a wonderful place Windsor was supposed to be.

  “It seems okay,” said Molly, “for a moldy old school.”

  “I think it looks great!” exclaimed Amanda.

  The next morning, the girls couldn’t wait to see Shawn. Right after breakfast, they headed straight over to her apartment.

  “How are you guys?” Shawn said as she opened the door. She hugged the twins.

  “We missed you so much!” Molly said. She stepped back and looked at Shawn. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “You’ve grown, like, another foot!”

  “You look like a model!” added Amanda. “And I love your outfit!” Shawn was wearing white shorts and a pink peasant top, which looked great against her coffee-colored skin.

  Shawn laughed, embarrassed. “Thanks,” she said. “You both look good, too! So, what have you guys been up to?”

  “We just got back from Poppy’s last night,” said Molly. Poppy was the twins grandfather, who had a biq house on the New Jersey shore. The twins and their seven-year-old brother, Matthew, had been at the beach with Poppy and their parents every day for the last week, collecting shells, bodysurfing, and hanging out on the boardwalk.

  “Where’s Grandma Puthie?” asked Amanda.

  Shawn’s Grandma Ruthie was staying with Shawn while her dad was away on a business trip in Australia. Shawn’s mom had died a few years ago, so when her dad had to go away. Grandma Ruthie came to stay. Shawn loved her grandma, but she still really missed her mom a lot.

  “She’s out on the terrace,” said Shawn, leading the girls outside.

  “Hi, Grandma Ruthie!” called the twins.

  Grandma Ruthie was relaxing on the chaise longue. She looked up from her newspaper. Her face was plump and friendly. She had wavy gray hair and big blue glasses.

  “Look who’s here!” said Grandma Ruthie. “Hello, girls! Now, wait, wait, tell me who’s who. I’m never gonna be able to tell you two apart.”

  Before the twins could say anything, Shawn said, “Oh, that’s easy, Grandma. Molly almost always wears a pony-tail, and Amanda dresses up more than Molly does.”

  The twins looked at each other and giggled. It was true. Amanda was wearing a denim halter,
white capris, glittery plastic flip-flops, and lip gloss. Molly’s hair was up in a high pony. She was wearing cargo shorts, a T-shirt, and boys’ blue canvas sneakers.

  “Want to cook something?” Shawn asked after the girls went inside. “I’ve really missed cooking with you.”

  “Sure,” said Molly.

  “I’m in the mood for some adventure,” Shawn said. “Let’s make whatever I open our cookbook to.”

  “Try to open it on a dessert!” Amanda pleaded.

  Shawn pulled a cookbook off the shelf and set it on the table. Closing her eyes, she slid a finger under a page and flipped open the book.

  “Shawn, what are you doing?” said Grandma Ruthie with a laugh. She had come inside to refill her empty iced-tea glass.

  “I’m trying to find a new recipe,” Shawn replied.

  “Is that how you decide what you feed your poor clients?” She shook her head again, and the girls laughed.

  The clients that Grandma Ruthie was talking about were all the people that the girls had cooked for over the summer. The friends had their own little cooking business, called Dish!

  “Now, shoo,” said Grandma Ruthie as she filled her iced-tea glass. “I want you girls out of this kitchen. Go outside. It’s a beautiful day!”

  “You’re right. Grandma Ruthie,” said Shawn with a laugh. “We don’t want to be stuck inside the kitchen today—especially with the oven on!”

  “I thought we were going to get school supplies anyway,” said Amanda. “Let’s go!”

  “Do you want to see if Peichi and Natasha can meet us?” asked Molly.

  “Natasha?” asked Shawn. “Well, okay. I’ll call Peichi if you call Natasha.”

  “Okay” said Molly. Picking up the phone, she said to Shawn, “I know things were weird with Natasha before you left. But a lot’s happened since you went away. Things are better now.”

  “I know,” said Shawn, nodding. She smiled. “That’s cool. But I’ll have to get used to the fact that she’s not mean anymore!”

  Natasha used to be the girls’ arch enemy—spreading mean rumors about them around school. But over the summer, they had discovered another side to Natasha—a nicer side. Now she was part of their group.

  After a few quick phone calls, Molly and Shawn arranged for Peichi and Natasha to meet them at “Turtle Bench” in Prospect Park. They’d named it Turtle Bench because it faced the lake, near the home of many turtles.

  “Hi, Shawn!” called Peichi Cheng as she bounded toward the bench with her shiny black hair swinging behind her. “Wow, you look awesome! How was your trip? When did you get back? Are you glad to be home?”

  Shawn laughed as she hugged Peichi. This girl can talk! Shawn thought to herself. “I can see you haven’t changed, Peichi, Shawn said with a smile. ”South Carolina was great! But I’m glad to be home, too. I’ve missed all you guys. And I’ve missed New York.”

  Natasha Ross soon showed up. She was wearing a tie-dyed tank top with a cute denim skirt. “Hi. Shawn,” she said softly. “Welcome back.”

  “Hi, Natasha, how’s your summer been?” asked Shawn.

  “Good.” Natasha answered.

  “Mine too.” Shawn smiled. She cleared her throat. She really didn’t know what to say after that. After all, she hadn’t spent much time with the “nice” Natasha.

  “Well—it’s t-i-i-i-ime to go shop-ping!” said Amanda in a TV announcers voice. “Let’s go to the drug store. Molly and I need notebooks and pens and all that stuff.”

  So did everyone else.

  “What’s everyone wearing on the first day of school?” asked Amanda as the friends walked down the hill to Park Terrace, the girls’ Brooklyn neighborhood. “I can’t decide, and it’s driving me crazy!”

  “I’m wearing my pink skirt and my striped peasant top,” said Peichi. “I mean, it’s still summer. We can’t wear fall clothes yet. But I haven’t figured out how to wear my hair! What do you guys think? Up or down?”

  “Up,” said Molly and Natasha.

  “Down,” said Amanda and Shawn.

  Peichi giggled. “You guys are no help!”

  “I don’t know what to wear either,” said Molly. “I wish our school just had uniforms.”

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “Uniforms? Why?

  “Cause it would be so much easier,” replied Molly. “Just think—you’d never have to wonder what to wear! And you’d never have to put anything together and worry whether it matches or not!”

  “Molly you’re probably the only kid who ever wanted to wear a uniform,” Amanda said.

  “Actually,” Peichi broke in, “Some kids like uniforms. St. Theresa’s School has cute uniforms. I’d wear them.”

  “Don’t worry, Molls,” Amanda went on. “I’ll tell you what to wear on the first day of school—and every day after that.”

  “Good,” said Molly. “That’s fine with me.” She smiled at her sister.

  “Speaking of clothes, do you want to go look in Lulu’s Closet? Remember, we have those gift certificates from Poppy,” Amanda said.

  “I love that store!” cried Peichi. “Come on, let’s go!”

  “But what about our school supplies?” Molly asked.

  “That can wait!” Amanda told her. “Clothes shopping is so much more fun.”

  “If you say so,” Molly said. “I guess we can get them later.” She followed the rest of the girls to Lulu’s.

  The girls loved the funky clothes made by Lulu, a young Brooklyn fashion designer whose hair color changed every week. She always used unique buttons and unusual fabrics. Her clothes weren’t like the same old things from the mall that everybody wore.

  “Oooh. this is so great!” cried Peichi, pulling a fake fur jacket off the rack. “A leopard-print coat with a matching belt! Amanda, try this on.”

  “I love it,” said Amanda, “but my mom wants us to get something well really wear a lot. Here—look at this corduroy skirt. I love the purple color. Natasha, this would look good on you.”

  After a while, Molly got bored. “Is anybody hungry?” she asked.

  “I am!” cried Peichi. “Let’s get lunch at Harry’s.”

  “Okay,” said everyone, and they headed to their favorite hangout.

  The twins and Shawn had discovered Harry’s when it first opened several months earlier. Writers, artists, and students were always sitting around the small marble tables, sipping tea or coffee out of colorful, mismatched china cups. Music from all over the world played on the restaurant’s stereo. The girls liked Harry’s because it was so cool. They felt older than eleven whenever they sat and ate veggie wraps and drank iced tea.

  It had been only recently that the girls had been allowed to go to a place like Harry’s without their parents. Now, as long as they were in a group of two or more, they were able to walk to the cool toy stores, pizzerias, bookstores, and movie theaters that were all within a few tree-lined blocks of their homes.

  There was so much to do and see in Park Terrace. Most of the girls lived within a few blocks of Prospect Park. The park had a big lake with pedal boats, a new zoo, an old carousel, beautiful meadows, and a bandshell. The girls parents often took them there to see free concerts, dance performances, and plays. There was also an ice-skating rink and a nature center.

  Outside the park was the Brooklyn Library, a huge art museum, and the botanic gardens. Just a subway ride away, under the East River, was the island of Manhattan—otherwise known as The Big Apple. New York City.

  “Hey. look who it is!” exclaimed Molly, as two boys sitting on a bench outside of Harry’s waved at them. “Hi, Connor. Hi. Omar. What are you doing here? This is our hangout.”

  All the girls knew Connor Kelly and Omar Kazdan from the cooking course they’d taken at Park Terrace Cookware over the summer. Omar and Connor had been the class clowns. Freckle-faced Connor and dark-eyed Omar were always joking around with each other.

  “We don’t hang out at this sissy place,” said Connor. “We’re just holding up the w
all. It’s shady here.”

  “Well, they’re gonna come out here and tell you that you have to buy something.” Molly teased him.

  Omar slapped his forehead. “I just remembered! The pizza place just reopened. Let’s go and get some slices.”

  “Wanna come?” Connor asked the girls.

  A slice of pizza and a cold soda sounded good to everyone. They all headed over to Pizza Roma.

  “Ladies first!” cracked Connor when the friends reached the counter. “That means you, Omar!”

  “Very funny, not!” said Omar. “Go ahead, Molly.”

  “A plain slice, not too hot,” Molly told the man at the counter.

  “Plain slice! Not too hot!” he bellowed to the bored-looking teenager in charge of cutting and heating the pizza. The man turned to Molly and asked, “Something-to-dreenk?”

  “Um, a root beer, please,” said Molly.

  “Small-medium-large?” asked the counterman impatiently.

  “Oh, a—medium.” Molly turned to Connor and Omar. “Are you guys going to Windsor?” she asked them.

  “Two pepperoni! One plain!” bellowed the counterman as the other girls placed their orders. “Something-todreenk?”

  “I’m going to Windsor,” replied Connor over the pizza man’s shouts. He looked sadly at Omar. “Poor Omar’s heading off to reform school.”

  “Am not!” said Omar, slapping Connor playfully on the head. “Don’t listen to him. I’m going to Windsor, too. Big deal. We’ll be at the bottom of the food chain. The little guys. The ones the seventh- and eighth-graders will pick on.”

  “Yeah,” said Connor, “but next year it’ll be our turn to pick on kids! I’ll make some poor sixth-grader carry my backpack.”