“Manda, are you in there?” Molly was asking. “Hey I’m supposed to be the daydreamer, not you!” Everyone giggled, which startled Amanda out of her thoughts.
“What?” she asked, looking around.
“She’s stuck in a fashion fantasy!” cried Shawn.
Even Amanda had to laugh at that one.
“Look!” said Mr. Jordan. “It’s a red-tailed hawk!”
“Cool!” said Shawn. “I’ve never seen one before!”
Shawn and her dad were in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park, peering through binoculars at the large, rare birds perched in a tree. Though the day had been hot, the air was cool now. They were having a picnic dinner, just the two of them. Shawn and her dad went to the park all the time, especially in the summer. All around them, parents watched their toddlers run across the grass, teens threw Frisbees, and people of all shapes and sizes showed off their dogs of all shapes and sizes.
“So how was your cooking class today?” asked Mr. Jordan. He and Shawn were eating submarine sandwiches from Pete’s Deli.
“It was awesome!” replied Shawn. She told her dad all about “chicken under a brick.”
“Ha-ha! That’s great!” cried Mr. Jordan.
“We need to start cooking soon for Mrs. Moore,” said Shawn. “Did I tell you that she’s paying us to cook a bunch of meals for the Moores, cause she’ll be out of town for a while?”
“Yes, you told me,” Mr. Jordan said with a smile. “That’s a great idea. You just formed a cooking club, and it’s turning into a catering business!”
“A business,” Shawn repeated slowly. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“What are you going to make?” asked Mr. Jordan.
“Oh, lots of stuff that you can just reheat, or grill. And peanut butter cookies for Matthew.”
Mr. Jordan changed the subject. “What do you think of me being so far away in a few months?” he asked.
Shawn took a deep breath. “We-e-ll,” began Shawn. She didn’t want to start crying again. She knew her dad really didn’t want to go away, and her crying would just make it harder.
“I’m not thrilled about it,” admitted Shawn. “But maybe the time will go fast. I’ll be in middle school then, and—whoa! I’ll be in middle school! I haven’t even thought about that yet!”
Mr. Jordan put down his sandwich. “Shawn,” he said, “we’ve been through a tough time. And if you don’t want me to go, I won’t. Maybe it is too soon for me to be traveling so far.”
Shawn looked down at her potato salad. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. So much for not crying, she thought.
“It’s okay, honey,” her dad said putting his arm around her.
If she said, “Don’t go, Dad,” would that be wrong?
“You think about it, sweetie,” said Mr. Jordan, smiling at her. “I don’t even know when I’m leaving. And there’s a chance I might not go at all. We’ve got some time on this.”
Shawn closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh evening air. Everything will be all right, she said to herself. Won’t it?
chapter 7
“Amanda, you can’t change your ouffit any more,” Molly complained. “We re gonna be late!”
“Ohhhhh!” Amanda ran from the mirror to her stack of magazines. She grabbed one and began to flip the pages frantically. “I can’t find anything in my magazines about what to wear to a tea party!”
“That’s because nobody goes to tea parties,” commented Molly. “Girls haven’t done that in, like, a hundred years.
“That’s not true. Ashley Harris had one for her birthday last year,” Amanda pointed out.
“I don’t remember that,” Molly said.
“That’s because we weren’t invited,” explained Amanda with a giggle. “Remember?”
“Anyway. you look fine,” said Molly.
Amanda ran back to the mirror. It was a fancy full-size mirror that she’d gotten for Christmas last year. Before the twins had gotten the mirror, they’d always had to stand on Molly’s bed to see their reflections in the mirror on the bureau. Molly hadn’t minded doing that. But Amanda asked for a mirror for Christmas. How she could easily check herself out whenever she wanted!
“I guess I look okay,” muttered Amanda, staring at her reflection. She was wearing a pink cotton skirt, a white peasant top with pink embroidery, and white sandals. “But what about my hair? Should I wear it up? It doesn’t look right today. Aaaarrrgh!”
Molly sighed. She d tried on only one outfit. It was the rose-colored tank dress with big flowers that she had bought with a gift certificate to the Gap. She’d thrown on some sandals and pulled her hair back into her usual high ponytail. Done.
That’s when Mom came in.
“What happened in here?” she asked, looking around the room. Dresses and skirts were piled on the beds. Shoes doffed the rug. “It looks like Filene’s department store after a big sale.”
“Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll clean it up when we get home,” promised Amanda. “Should I take a pocketbook? Which one should I take? Are you taking one, Molly?”
Molly shook her head.
“You really should, Molly,” said Mom. She looked closely at Molly, as if she was inspecting something.
“What?” asked Molly, shrinking back.
“Let me curl your hair, honey,” said Mom. “Where’s your curling iron, Amanda? Here it is ... this’ll just take a second.”
“I never curl my hair,” whined Molly.
“You can keep your ponytail. I’m just curling the end, okay? If’ll look so cute.” Mom plugged the curling iron into the wall.
“How do I look, Mom?” asked Amanda anxiously.
“You look perfect! Don’t worry!” Mom assured her.
“This tea party is gonna be weird,” said Molly.
“You don’t know that, Molly,” Mom reminded her as she made one big curl of Molly’s ponytail. “I think it sounds like fun. And I’m sure that Mrs. Ross isn’t the meanie you think she is. Just go and have a good time!”
“Okay!” said Amanda. “I’m ready!”
“Perfect!” said Mom. “Now let’s just put a bow in Molly’s hair—
“No way!” cried Molly. “No bows, Mom. We have to go!”
Mrs. Moore smiled. “I miss when you girls wore bows in your hair. Bye! Have fun!”
The twins still had to pick up Shawn. Mr. Jordan greeted them at the door.
“Hi, Molly! Hi, Amanda! You look great! Come on in. I’m going to take a picture of you three when Shawn’s ready.”
“She’s not ready?” shrieked the twins.
Mr. Jordan had to laugh, and so did Molly and Amanda. Mr. Jordan shielded his face with his hands and said, “No! Hot the twin thing again!”
“Let’s go in her room,” suggested Molly.
“Here I am, here I am!” said Shawn, rushing into the living room. “Hi guys!”
Shawn looked ready for a tea party with the Queen of England. She wore a black straw hat with a wide brim,
a red-and-white polka-dot sundress, and her black wedge sandals.
“Cool hat!” shouted the twins.
Shawn struck a movie-star pose. “Thanks!” she said. “Dad and I were shopping the other day, and we found this store that sells cool old clothes. So I bought this hat and this dress! Okay, I’m ready to go.”
“Just a second,” said Mr. Jordan. He quickly snapped a photo of the girls. “Have fun!”
“I’d never think to wear a cool outfit like yours, Shawn,” Molly told Shawn as the friends rode down in the elevator.
“You look like you’re about twenty-five years old, or a famous actress!” said Amanda. She wished she’d thought to do something fun like Shawn had.
“Thanks,” said Shawn. “It was really Dad’s idea. Well, here we go. I wish Peichi had been invited.”
“So do we,” said Amanda. “Peichi’s kind of bummed out. But Natasha’s mom didn’t know about her.”
“She’ll get over it,” said Shawn. “Besides, I
’ve never really seen her angry. She’s always so happy!”
“But I wonder why Natasha didn’t tell her mom to invite Peichi?” Molly asked.
“I think it’s because Natasha didn’t even want the tea party,” suggested Amanda. “I don’t think it was anything against Peichi at all.” She changed the subject. “I wonder what they’ll have to eat.”
“I’m too nervous to eat,” said Molly
It didn’t take long to walk to Natasha’s house on Garden Street.
“You ring the bell,” said Amanda, poking Molly.
“No, you ring it,” retorted Molly.
Amanda gave Shawn an extra-sweet smile. “Shawn, would you ring the bell?”
Shawn shrugged. “Why should I be nervous?” she asked. “It’s a party! It’s not a big deal!”
Shawn led the twins up the stone steps of Natasha’s townhouse and rang the bell. Everything seemed so quiet. They listened for footsteps coming toward the door.
“It is today, right?” asked Molly anxiously.
“Of course it is,” replied Shawn.
Just then, Natasha opened the door and smiled at the girls. Her blonde hair looked so different, because she’d curled it in ringlets. It looked old-fashioned but kind of cool and modern at the same time. for a moment, Molly was surprised. All along, she’d been expecting Mrs. Ross to come to the door, which she’d been dreading.
“Hi!” cried the girls.
“I love your hair, Natasha,” said Amanda.
“Hi!” said Natasha. “You all look really nice. Well, come on in.
Natasha, who was wearing a long tank dress like Molly’s, only dark blue, led the girls into the house. It was very formal, with thick Oriental rugs, old, polished furniture, large bouquets of deep red and pale yellow roses, and portraits on the walls. The house was really, really neat. It almost looked as if no one actually lived there.
“We’re going to be in the garden,” said Natasha.
She seems kind of serious, not like someone who’s exciled about giving a party, thought Amanda.
“Can’t we see your room?” blurted Amanda.
Just then, Mrs. Ross seemed to appear out of nowhere. She seemed even taller than before, but her blue eyes were cold.
“Hello, girls,” said Mrs. Ross with a little smile. She was wearing a simple pink cotton dress. Simple, but expensive-looking.
“Hello, Mrs. Ross,” the girls answered.
“You all look very nice,” said Mrs. Ross. “Well, let’s go into the garden.”
“They want to see my room—” began Natasha.
“Later, dear.”
The twins looked at each other as they followed Mrs. Ross. As she walked, she left a trail of rose-scenfed perfume.
Can you believe this? asked Amanda with her eyes.
No way! Molly’s eyes shot back.
In the garden, a man sat reading the paper in one of the wicker chairs.
“Girls, this is Mr. Ross, Natasha’s father,” said Mrs. Ross.
A man with graying hair stood up. “Hello, girls,” he said. His smile seemed genuine, and he seemed much friendlier than Mrs. Ross. “Please sit down,” he said, gesturing at the empty wicker chairs.
Molly sat up as straight as she could. She could hear Mom saying, “Don’t slouch.”
Amanda sat up straight, too. Her hands and feet felt too big. But when she spied the little round cakes with pink icing on a silver tray, she felt better.
Suddenly, Molly wanted to be in a pair of cutoffs riding her bike, in a bathing suit jumping into Peichi’s pool, in her pajamas playing Scrabble with Amanda... doing anything but minding her manners, wondering what to say, wearing this dress.
“Where’s your dog, Natasha?” asked Amanda.
“Oh, he’s inside. I’ll bring him out in a bit,” replied Hatasha.
How weird that the dog didn’t run to the door with
Natasha, thought Molly. Dogs always greet people atthe door.
Silence.
Mr. Ross cleared his throat. “So, Natasha tells us that you have a cooking club. That sounds like a lot of fun.” He looked at each of the girls, then his eyes settled on Shawn.
“Yes,” said Shawn. She didn’t seem nervous at all. “We try to cook once a week, and we re writing a cookbook of all the things we make.”
Just then, Mrs. Ross came out holding a big tray with a pitcher of iced tea, a pitcher of lemonade, and cookies. Natasha’s terrier came out with her.
“Oh, he’s so cute!” exclaimed Amanda. “Come here, doggie! What’s his name?” she asked, looking up at Natasha.
“That’s Willy!” said Natasha. “No jumping, Willy.”
Mrs. Ross began to pour glasses of tea and lemonade and serve the cookies and cakes on little china plates. “Here you go,” she said, offering Molly a glass. “Tell us about yourselves...what do your parents do?”
“Um,” said Molly. She hadn’t expected to be asked what her parents did for a living. “Our mom is a college professor.”
“Of what, dear?” asked Mrs. Ross.
“Of—art history. At Brooklyn College. Our dad, he, um, works with computers and stuff, I mean, things.” Molly’s toes curled. “I’m not really sure what he does, exactly—”
“He designs websites and helps fix people’s computers,” Amanda broke in. “He works for an architecture firm.”
Thank you! said Molly with her eyes.
“How interesting,” said Mrs. Ross. She turned her gaze to Shawn. “And your parents, dear?”
“My father is a professor at Brooklyn College, too,” said Shawn. “He teaches about ancient peoples. He’s called a—a cultural anthropologist.” She hoped Mrs. Ross wouldn’t ask about her mother. Luckily, Mrs. Ross left it at that.
“Well,” she said to the girls, “your parents all have such interesting jobs. Mr. Ross is an attorney for Whitney, Deardorf, Ross, Cox and Finkelstein. He’s a partner, of course.
Natasha rolled her eyes.
A partner towhat? wondered Amanda, as she nodded her head.
Ask me if I care, thought Molly, as she smiled politely.
Shawn smiled. “Oh, that’s nice,” she said, as if Mr. Ross’ job was the most fascinating thing she’d ever heard of.
No one said anything for a moment.
And no one noticed the squirrel that was coming down a tree behind Mrs. Ross’ chair. No one except Willy, that is.
“Rowr rowr rowr rowr rowr!” barked Willy suddenly, running under Mrs. Ross’ chair.
“Oh!” cried Mrs. Ross, jumping up out of her seat.
The squirrel took off with Willy close behind—under bushes, through flowers, all around the garden.
“Willy, get back here,” called Natasha halfheartedly.
No one could do anything but watch!
The animals turned and zoomed toward the group of chairs.
Suddenly, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
The squirrel flung itself up toward the tree trunk, but didn’t quite make it. It grabbed for the armrest of Mrs. Ross’ chair, and then tumbled onto the table. Up flew a china dish and a bunch of cookies.
Mrs. Ross looked like she was screaming, but no sound came out.
Mr. Ross reached forward as the dish flipped over in the air. It landed neatly in his hand. His foot crunched several cookies.
“I saved it!” he cried.
Meanwhile the squirrel had scrambled off the table and up the tree trunk, with Willy yapping loudly below.
Mrs. Ross was so upset that her face was as pink as her dress.
“Thank you, David,” she said, her voice shaking. “You saved the dish. Willy, go into the house right now. Natasha, take him inside. Excuse me, girls. I need to freshen up.”
Molly wanted to clap. This was better than watching a movie!
Natasha got up slowly from her chair. As she passed the twins, they could see a hint of a smile on her face.
Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh, Molly kept telling herself.<
br />
Amanda coughed. Only Molly knew that this was Amanda’s way of hiding a chuckle.
Shawn, of course, knew what to do. She began to pick up the cookies from the ground. Molly and Amanda quickly began to do the same.
When Natasha came back outside, she looked more relaxed.
And when Mrs. Ross came back outside, she was holding a huge platter of delicious-looking cookies and pastries.
Amanda picked up a cream puff and popped it into her mouth. This party won’t be so bad after all, she thought.
Chapter 8
“You should have seen it!” Molly told Peichi the day after the tea party. “That squirrel was so funny!”
The twins, Shawn, and Peichi were at Harry’s, their favorite hangout in Park Terrace. They took turns filling Peichi in on the tea party.
“So then what happened?” asked Peichi. “After the squirrel went back up the tree?”
“Well, Mrs. Ross went inside for a moment. And she came out with more cookies, and then, here’s the weird part—” Molly began.
“She acted like nothing funny or weird had happened!” Shawn broke in. “So we couldn’t, either.”
“We just talked some more, which was super boring, and then Natasha took us up to her room,” added Amanda.
“Oooh! So, what’s Natasha’s room like?” Peichi wanted to know.
“You wouldn’t believe it!” cried Molly.
“It looks like a princess’s room in a castle,” added Amanda as she bit into a roasted veggie wrap.
“She has the biggest bed. And it has white netting on top of it that she can pull down around her bed—” Shawn began.
“And there aren’t any posters or anything like that on the walls,” interrupted Molly. “Just oil paintings, and wallpaper, and drapes. It’s pretty, but it doesn’t look like a kid’s room at all. She has a big old wooden trunk. But the best thing is the—how do you say it?
“Chaise,” said Shawn. “It’s kind of a chair and a sofa together. With soft pink material. It’s long, but it’s not a sofa because on one side there’s a chair back. It has one armrest. You can lie there and read a magazine like a movie star.”
Turning Up the Heat Page 6
