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For the Schoenholtz family: David, Jack, Marya, Hannah, Isaac, Saul, Joseph, and Millie
—M. A. F.
CHAPTER 1
Monday, July 6, Moonlight Ranch
Hannah lay on her top bunk listening to rain and staring at gloom. She was worried. Tomorrow was Grace’s tenth birthday, and not one of the three other campers in Flowerpot Cabin cared.
In the distance, thunder rumbled, and then the rain let up. Hannah was from New York City. The summer camp was in Arizona. It was Hannah’s first year as a counselor there, and after a week, she was getting used to these brief nighttime storms. Now she rolled over, closed her eyes, and tried her usual strategy for falling asleep—counting backward from one hundred. By eighty-six, she was worrying again: The real problem wasn’t Grace. It was all of them.
The four girls in Flowerpot Cabin simply didn’t like each other.
Take that morning during chores. It had been Emma’s turn to do inspection. When Emma pointed out the streaks Olivia left on the bathroom mirror, Olivia handed Emma the rag. “If you don’t like it, you do it!”
Hearing this, Grace had said, “Too early for yelling,” and walked out.
As for Lucy—she wasn’t paying attention. While Emma and Olivia were quarreling, she had stood precariously on a chair, using a drinking glass to rescue a spider from the ceiling.
Remembering this, Hannah sighed and pulled up her covers.
The trouble was the four girls were very different—different backgrounds, different interests, different temperaments.
Olivia was the drama queen—in both the best sense and the worst. She was tall and lovely and graceful with real singing and acting talent. For her, everything that happened was either really, really awesome or really, really dumb. She had enough chutzpah—as Hannah’s parents would say—to fill the horse barn twice over.
Emma was organized, a worrier, and—to be honest—a bit of a klutz. She had fallen off her horse twice the first week, but both times she’d bounced up again, insisting she was fine. To get out of square dancing, she’d volunteered to pick up litter. The other girls thought Emma was bossy, but Hannah didn’t agree. Emma was more like a mother hen, concerned for the well-being of everyone she knew. For the pool, she packed extra sunscreen.
Grace was different—tidy, precise, and good at everything she tried, especially music. She was also quiet and serious. At the same time, she had a secret—a funny one. She kept a private, personal stash of Oreos hidden under a washcloth in her bathroom cubby. Hannah had found them by accident one morning when she reached into Grace’s cubby instead of her own. Because food might attract bugs or field mice, campers were supposed to keep it in closed metal containers. To prevent bad feelings, campers were also supposed to share any treats they had. This meant perfect, obedient Grace was breaking two rules with her hidden Oreo cookies!
Maybe, Hannah thought, Grace needs to have her own little secret if she is going to stay otherwise perfect and obedient. In any case, Hannah would never tell.
The last camper in Flowerpot Cabin was Lucy, who was blond and carelessly pretty. She liked to paint and draw. She didn’t seem to notice or care what anyone else thought of her. Lost in her own thoughts most of the time, she had been half an hour late to dinner the second evening because she couldn’t find the dining hall. Unlike the other girls—unlike pretty much anyone else at Moonlight Ranch—she came from a family without much money, a family she never talked about.
Hannah rolled over again and sighed. Maybe it was all her fault. She was the counselor. She should do something to promote peace, love, and understanding. But what?
Still worrying, Hannah drifted off to sleep and dreamed. It was almost morning when her grandfather made an appearance. He had been dead for five years— since Hannah was fourteen—and she was glad to see him. That night he was mixing cookie dough in the kitchen of the delicatessen in Manhattan where he had worked. His cheeks were flushed from the oven’s heat. He was smiling.
“Hannahla, try this.” He offered an oatmeal raisin cookie. “You know what I always say about flour power.”
This was an old joke between them, and Hannah knew she was supposed to spell it out: “F-L-O-U-R!”
After that, the camp bell rang—time to wake up. Hannah opened her eyes, thinking she could still smell the cinnamon. It’s a shame I didn’t get to eat the cookie, she thought.
But her mood was lighter. She had an idea.
* * *
The Moonlight Ranch Summer Camp is located an hour north of Phoenix in the Arizona desert. Arrayed in a stand of cottonwood trees, it consists of forty cabins behind split-rail fences on either side of a dirt road—girls’ cabins to the right, boys’ to the left. The dining hall and kitchen are near the entrance gate, a wooden arch topped by a metal sculpture of a full moon with a laughing face. The pond, horse barn, playing fields, show ring, and outbuildings are over a hill where the road dead-ends. Beyond that, cattle graze.
After the campfire that evening, Hannah led the four girls of Flowerpot Cabin up the road toward the camp kitchen.
Grace walked beside her. “Aren’t we going to get in trouble?” she asked. “It’s almost lights-out.”
“We have special permission,” Hannah said.
“Is this something to do with Grace’s birthday?” Emma asked.
“Ma-a-aybe,” Hannah said.
“That means yes,” Olivia said, “in grown-up talk.”
“Who are you calling a grown-up?” asked Hannah.
“You don’t have to notice my birthday,” Grace said. “I don’t mind.”
Lucy said, “What birthday?”
As they neared the kitchen, Hannah was surprised to see lights on. Inside, she was even more surprised to see a boy. She knew he was from Lasso Cabin, which made him aged ten to eleven, but she couldn’t remember his name.
“I’m allowed,” he said instead of hello. “I asked the cook.”
“Well, I asked her too,” said Hannah. “What are you making?”
“Cupcakes.” The boy pointed at a mixing bowl full of batter. “I’m Vivek.”
“Where’s your counselor?” Hannah asked.
“Getting the other guys to shut up,” Vivek said. “I’m the only good one in my cabin. Not to brag or anything.”
Emma nodded. “Everybody knows about Lasso Cabin.”
“OMG, are we making cupcakes?” Olivia asked. “How totally fabulous!”
“I like cupcakes,” Lucy said, “with white frosting and sprinkles.”
“We are making cookies,” said Hannah. “Because my grandpa was a baker, and he believed in flour power. Get it?”
“You mean like f-l-o-u-r?” Grace asked.
“I don’t get it,” said Lucy.
“You’ll see,” said Hannah.
“Why is Vivek making cupcakes?” Grace asked.
“Hello?” said Vivek. “I’m right here, and it’s not like I can’t hear you. I’m making cupcakes to mail to my mom for her birthday.”
“Wait—so that’s whose birthday?” said Lucy.
“Cupcakes are really, really a lot of work,” said Olivia. “You should buy her earrings.”
“I don’t have any money,” Vivek said.
“You don’t?” Olivia said.
“Not everyone h
as money,” said Emma.
“Okay, ladies.” Hannah pulled a recipe card from her pocket. “Lucy—you’ve been poking around. Can you find measuring spoons and cups, a rubber scraper, and two bowls? Grace, you get the eggs and the butter from the refrigerator. Vivek, are you done with that mixer?”
While Hannah read the directions aloud, the girls measured, sifted, creamed, and combined—eating only small bits of soft, sweet dough and making only a moderate mess. Then they rolled out the cookies, cut them, and placed them one by one on cookie sheets.
They had just begun to sprinkle sugar when Emma frowned and said, “Does anybody else smell smoke?”
“My cupcakes!” Vivek moved to open the oven. Emma handed him oven mitts. Inside, instead of cupcakes, there were twelve black and shrunken cinders, which immediately set off the smoke detector. Hannah hurried to open a window, and a gust of wind blew in, silencing the squawk and announcing the evening thunderstorm.
Vivek was crushed. “I must’ve set the oven too high. Now what am I supposed to do?”
For a second, it was quiet.
Then Lucy said, “If you frost them enough, maybe your mom won’t notice.”
And Olivia laughed. “That is the dumbest idea I ever heard.”
Lucy looked at her toes. “My mom wouldn’t notice.”
“Send her some of Grace’s cookies,” said Emma.
“Naturally, Emma has the answer,” said Olivia.
“Have you got a better one?” asked Emma.
“I don’t mind sharing,” said Grace.
“It’s a better idea than mine,” said Lucy.
Emma looked at Olivia. “What do you think, O? Give some of our cookies to Vivek’s mom or not?”
“O?” Olivia looked at Emma. “Is that supposed to be me now?”
Emma shrugged. “If you want.”
Olivia sighed theatrically. “I am entirely certain that Vivek’s mom would prefer earrings. At the same time, I am not one to be selfish. “Also,”—she looked shy all of a sudden—“if you guys want to call me ‘O,’ that would be cool.”
Hannah couldn’t believe it. Kind of, sort of . . . the girls of Flowerpot Cabin might be beginning to get along.
A few minutes later, the sugar cookies came out of the oven, and they were perfect. Placed on wire racks, they cooled quickly. Then Grace helped Vivek pack a dozen into a tin for his mom while Olivia, Lucy, and Emma cleaned up, and Hannah poured glasses of milk.
Outside, rain fell and thunder rumbled, then a flash of lightning and—crack—the lights in the kitchen went black.
Everybody squealed. Then everybody started talking at once: “Don’t panic!” “Find a flashlight!” “Who’s panicking?” “I found birthday candles.” “Somebody stepped on my toe!” “Sorry.” “Sorry.” “Ouch!” “Sorry.”
It took a few minutes, but finally all five girls and one boy were gathered around a plate of cookies, ten of them stuck with birthday candles. In the dark, the tiny flames cast a warm and cheerful glow.
Lucy said, “I thought it was Vivek’s mom’s birthday.”
Grace said, “It’s my birthday.”
Lucy said, “What a coincidence! Happy birthday!”
After that, everybody sang, and Grace blew out her candles.
From that night on, every girl in Flowerpot Cabin loved every other girl in Flowerpot Cabin every moment all summer long.
Not.
But Emma, Olivia, Grace, and Lucy did have a special flour-power bond, which paid off when they won the cabin competition for cleanest bathroom, got second place at the talent show and the girls’ prize in the egg-and-spoon relay on Game Day.
CHAPTER 2
Thursday, August 11
The night before the last day of camp, the girls of Flowerpot Cabin were in their bunks. There was a lot for the counselors to do at the close of the season, and Hannah had been up since six that morning. She was exhausted, but she couldn’t help overhearing her campers’ whispered conversation.
“What if we all go home and forget each other?” Emma said. “What if we don’t stay friends?”
“That would be really, really, really sad !” said Olivia.
“Three reallys,” said Lucy.
“When is it we first started to like each other?” Emma asked.
“Oh, Emma. Not another quiz. I am too sleepy,” said Olivia.
Grace spoke up. “It was on my birthday—when we made the cookies with Vivek.”
“With Vive-e-ek,” Olivia teased.
“Leave her alone, O,” said Emma. “She can’t help it that she thinks he’s cute.”
“Is he cute?” asked Lucy.
“According to some people,” said Olivia.
“Listen, do you want to hear my idea or not?” said Emma. “Here it is: What if all year long we send each other cookies?”
“Okay,” said Lucy. “And I’ll go first because otherwise I’ll forget.”
“Hello-o-o?” said Olivia. “We didn’t even agree to do it yet.”
“When school starts—and piano and dance—I’m going to be really busy,” said Grace.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” said Emma. “Even though we’re all superbusy, we have to take time out to stay friends. We have to make a commitment.”
“I won’t be that busy,” said Lucy.
“Lucky,” said Grace.
“What kind of cookies?” Lucy asked.
“Sugar,” said Olivia. “I mean, if it’s happening, they should be sugar.”
“Doesn’t have to be,” said Emma. “It can be whatever kind you think goes with whoever’s getting the cookies.”
“Oh, I get it,” said Grace. “So, like, if I have a piano recital coming up, and it’s Emma’s turn to send cookies, then Emma sends me the best kind of cookies for practicing piano.”
“Or if my mom has another new boyfriend, I get the best kind of cookie to survive a mom romance,” said Lucy.
“Or if my brother’s baseball team loses the state championship, I get cookies for when my whole family is in mourning except I don’t actually even care,” said Olivia.
“Exactly,” said Emma.
“We need a name,” said Olivia.
“I’m bad at naming things,” Lucy said. “How about the Cookie Society?”
“The Secret Cookie Society,” said Grace, “because we’re not going to tell anybody. It’s just us.”
“My aunt Freda’s in a society,” said Lucy. “They do projects to help people.”
“We don’t have to help people, do we?” Olivia asked.
“We helped Vivek when we shared our cookies,” said Grace.
“He can’t be in the club. He’s not in Flowerpot Cabin,” said Emma.
“Also, he’s a boy,” said Olivia.
“I noticed that too,” said Lucy.
“We could send him cookies, though, couldn’t we?” said Grace. “Like, without telling him who they’re from. Like a prank, only a nice prank.”
“Grace, do you have a crush on Vivek?” Emma asked.
“No!” said Grace.
“That means you do,” said Olivia.
“It should be ‘club’ instead of ‘society,’ ” said Lucy. “ ‘Club’ is easier to spell.”
“Time to vote,” said Emma. “All in favor of Secret Cookie Club, say ‘aye’!”
“Aye!” said everybody.
After that, they figured out the schedule. Lucy would send the first batch of cookies to Grace in the fall. Grace would send cookies to Emma around New Year’s. Emma would send cookies to Olivia in the winter, and Olivia would send cookies to Lucy in the spring.
“How will we know what kind of cookie to send?” Olivia wanted to know.
“That’s the whole point,” said Emma. “The only way we know is if we stay in touch.”
“And Vivek?” Grace said.
But Hannah didn’t hear the answer. She had fallen asleep, smiling. She was dreaming of flour power.
CHAPTER 3
Saturday, August 13, Grace
“Grace, sweetie, are you okay? It’s getting late!” Hannah, our counselor, called through the bathroom door, which, unfortunately, did not have a lock. If Hannah or anyone found out I had just vomited my breakfast, I would die of embarrassment.
“Yes. Fine. Don’t come in.” I flushed the toilet, rinsed my mouth out, splashed water on my face, and looked around for my towel before remembering it was packed in my trunk, just like everything else.
“Grace?” Hannah sounded worried.
I opened the door. My face was dripping.
“Hold on. I think I saw paper towels.” Hannah found a crumpled-looking roll in Flowerpot Cabin’s mostly empty cupboards and handed it over. “Now tell me what’s the matter.”
Usually I appreciated Hannah’s TLC. We all did. But right then I wanted to be left alone.
“I am fine,” I said, then realized how that sounded and added, “Sorry.” I took a final swipe at my face, wadded the towel, and threw it away.
Would we lose points for the wastebasket not being empty?
Oh, right. The Chore Score didn’t matter now. Camp was over. Today we were going home.
“I’m just upset about saying good-bye,” I said.
This was true, but it wasn’t everything. A few kids had already been bused to the airport in Phoenix, but most people’s parents were coming by car this morning to pick them up. That included the parents of us four campers in Flowerpot Cabin—Emma, Olivia, Lucy, and me.
More than anything else, I was freaking out—as Lucy would say—about my parents meeting everyone else’s. My parents aren’t like other people’s. My parents have accents. My parents dress too nicely. My parents are ten to the tenth power more embarrassing than anyone else’s parents in the entire United States of America.
The worried knot in my stomach persisted even though now the pancakes were out of the way.
Hannah stepped back, looked at me, and shrugged. “Okay, Grace, my friend, if you say so.” Then she steered me toward the door with a hand on my shoulder. “Everybody else is on the oval waiting for their parents already. I bet yours will be superglad to see you. They must have missed their only daughter.”
The Secret Cookie Club Page 1
