A Measure of Thanks #10

The kitchen grew silent as everyone waited for Mom to come back—and for Molly to show up.

“Sure, just let them cool a minute,” said Amanda absentmindedly. Her stomach was beginning to hurt. Please let Molly be okay, she thought.

“Molly! Where were you?” cried Amanda, running into the front hallway, as the Chef Girls all sighed with relief.

“Sorry,” muttered Molly. Mom, behind her, didn’t look happy. “I was asked to cover the girls’ soccer game against the Clinton Hill Cougars. I—I completely forgot about our job.”

“And forgot to call to tell me where you’d be!” said Mrs. Moore angrily, heading upstairs.

“How’d you forget to tell both Mom and me?” asked Amanda, puzzled. “What’s the matter with you?” Now that there was nothing to worry about, she was beginning to feel annoyed with Molly again.

“I’m sorry,” repeated Molly. She headed into the kitchen and said to the Chef Girls, “You guys, I feel so bad. I completely spaced out. I was so excited that Jayne Stein got sick and couldn’t cover the game—I mean, I wasn’t happy that Jayne’s sick, but I was so excited that Liza asked me to sub for Jayne and then I was so nervous ‘cause I’ve never written about a soccer game before! And I—just forgot! I’m really sorry.”

Shawn, Peichi, and Natasha smiled at Molly while Matthew took the opportunity to scarf down some more cookies.

“It’s okay, Molls,” said Shawn. “There’s still time to help us—we’ve got to box this stuff up and take it over to the Mortons.”

“Okay,” said Molly. “Sure.” She brightened as she said, “You guys! The game was great! Keisha White scored eleven points for Windsor! She’s amazing!”

I don’t even want to hear about it, thought Amanda, who was still irritated with her twin. All of a sudden, Dish doesn’t seem very important to Molly. And she doesn’t even care that she worried Mom...and me! What’s the deal?

“Great, I’m grounded for the whole three-day weekend, complained Molly when she came upstairs after dinner, where Amanda was starting her math homework.

“Oh, well, there’s nothing I can do about it now,” said Molly matter-of-factly. She opened up her notebook. “Manda, don’t forget, we’re having our first big meeting about the charity harvest fair on Monday.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget.” Amanda poked Molly in the arm. “I never forget!”

Molly didn’t laugh at the joke. “It’s really important that we do a good job on the fair,” she said in a serious tone. “The money goes to America’s Second Harvest. They’re a great organization that helps feed people all over the country. Amanda, there are lots of hungry kids in this country. It’s truly horrible. We really need to help. I want us to work really hard and raise as much money as we can. Okay?”

All right already, I get the point, thought Amanda, looking back down at her math book. Why is Molly acting so different lately? she wondered again. Not calling and forgetting all about Dish was bad enough, but why is she talking to me in that preachy voice?

After she finished her math homework, Amanda went downstairs for a cookie break. Mom was in the kitchen, reading a magazine. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “I got you something from the library today.” She reached into her leather briefcase and pulled out a very large book.

Amanda opened the heavy book. “What’s this? ‘The Costumes of Hollywood, 1930-1970.’ Wow! This looks cool!”

Amanda smiled at her mom. “I love it! Thanks!” She pointed at a woman in a photo. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Audrey Hepburn in the movie Funny face. She worked with the French fashion designer Givenchy almost all the time—he created wonderful looks just for her.”

Together, Amanda and Mom flipped through the big book, pointing at the gorgeous costumes. “This was made for Bette Davis by Edith Head,” said Mom, pointing at an off-the-shoulder gown. “Edith Head was the most famous Hollywood costume designer.”

“Look! Here are dresses from Gone With the Wind,” exclaimed Amanda. “That’s one kind of dress we’ll be working on.”

Later that evening, Amanda picked up a legal pad and began to sketch. She’d never been good at art, but it was fun to draw a gown that she imagined.

...And I think I’d put some lace here at the hem, she thought to herself. Maybe the same type of lace would go on the parasol, to match...

Amanda smiled to herself. She couldn’t wait to start working on the costumes with Ms. Barlow and the rest of the crew.

“You guys! The Post is out! With my article!” announced Molly the next afternoon as she set down her lunch tray. “And Natasha’s, too, of course! There’s a whole stack outside the newspaper office!”

“Let’s see,” said Amanda, as Peichi eagerly read the paper. “Oh, look! ‘Windsor Volunteers Take a Bite out of Hunger: Serve Up Harvest Fund-raiser in Prospect Park, By Molly Moore.’ Cool!”

Natasha appeared at the table. “Oh, good, you got The Post, ”she said. “I heard it was out.

Let’s see your article...hey, there it is! And my interview with the new swim coach is on the next page.”

“Cool!” said Shawn, placing her tray on the table. The girls passed the paper around as they ate.

“You won’t believe this,” groaned Peichi later, after Molly had set the paper aside. “You know how I decided to go out for Band? And—”

“Oh! I guess I forgot to tell you!” Peichi giggled. “So much is going on! Well, anyway, I joined Band, right? And I was telling Omar and Connor about it. And the next thing I know, I’m in the band room, and Omar’s in there, too! And he’s like, ‘Oh, hi, Peichi!’ And he tells me that he’s gonna play the tuba! Can you believe it?”

“I can’t picture Omar with a tuba! cried Molly. ”You mean he really plays the tuba?”

“No! He doesn’t play the tuba!” said Peichi. “But he says he wants to learn! Like, all of a sudden, he’s dying to learn the tuba after I say I’m in band!”

“‘Cause it was probably the only instrument Mr. Ciccone had left! Nobody ever wants to play the tuba.”

The girls laughed again. The thought of skinny, wise-cracking Omar playing the tuba just to be near Peichi was too funny.

“but I don’t want him there,” groaned Peichi. “Every time I turn around, Omar will be right there—going ‘oom-pa-pah’ on that big tuba!”

The girls had a hard time eating their lunch after that—every time they calmed down, someone would say, “Oom-pa-pah” and they’d crack up all over again.

Later that day, Karen Woo’s eyes grew wide as Molly and Elizabeth led Amanda, Peichi, Natasha, and Shawn into the cafeteria after school.

Shawn shook her head. “Not officially.” she said, “but we’re here to work on the harvest fair.”

“We don’t really have time to join another club,” explained Peichi, “but we see this as, like, an extension of Dish, our cooking business!”

“We’ll do tons of baking for the booth,” added Natasha. “We’re good cooks—and I’m sure we’ll sell everything we make!”

“I know the theme for the fair is ‘harvest.”’ said Amanda, but maybe we can make the theme for our booth a little more—broad? Wouldn’t it be fun to have food from different cultures?”

Molly brightened. “Yeah! Our booth could be—what’s the word?—diverse, like Brooklyn! We could make some of the Greek food we had at Athena’s!”

“And pumpkin ravioli,” added Amanda. “That’s harvest-y. and it’s Italian!” Just then, a few more students walked in.

“Hi, I’m Rachel,” said a red-haired girl shyly. “Um, is this the volunteers’ club?”

“This is it,” replied Karen, flashing a smile at Molly that meant, Thanks! Your article worked!

“Okay, the main thing we need to focus on now is finding sponsors. They’ll donate money so we can pay for the booth, ads, and supplies,” Karen told them. “And the sponsors will have their names listed in the handout that tells all about the fair, and on the posters, too.”

“I’ll bet my dad would donate some money,” Natasha spoke up. “He’d be getting free advertising for his new law firm.”

Shawn turned to the twins. “Maybe Dad and your mom can get Brooklyn College to sponsor, too,” she suggested.

“That would be great!” said Karen. “Let me know. Now, we need to find people who want to make crafts to sell.”

Natasha looked up from the notes she was taking. “Um, my mom might do something. She’s been painting a lot since we got back from France...mostly little paintings showing the streets of Paris, that sort of thing.”

Karen nodded happily. “That would be good, because if they’re small, they wouldn’t cost too much, and they’d make nice gifts.”

Rachel’s hand fluttered up. “How about pony rides?” she asked excitedly. “I have a pony! Her name is Misty! She’s really sweet and gentle. I’ll bet a lot of people would pay to let their kid ride her around, if you have room for her.”

“Sure!” said Karen. “There’s plenty of room—the fair is taking up a lot of land in the park that day!”

“How about renting a dunk tank?” Drew Hager, an eighth-grader, joked. “You know, where you throw the ball at the target and if you hit it, there’s a guy who gets dunked?”

“I know him. Do you think he’d really do it?” asked Karen. All around her, the Chef Girls giggled. Omar getting dunked over and over in a tank of water? Way perfect!

“Sorry, Dad, I need the computer again,” Molly told Dad apologetically that evening. “I have to finish up the soccer game article and my Social Studies paper.”

“I guess I can’t put off buying that second computer any longer, can I?” Dad asked her with a grin. “Be my guest. I’m just surfing the Net anyway. But work on your paper first, all right? Then your article.”

Childhood hunger is a big problem right here in the United States. Molly typed as she looked over her notes. One group that helps with this problem is called America’s Second Harvest. It runs lots of food banks. Thirty-nine percent of the people that gel helped by America’s Second Harvest are children who are under eighteen years old.

Suddenly Molly remembered that she needed to write a section for her paper explaining how she could help the situation. But what could she do? Molly frowned with determination. I’ll think of something. Even if I didn’t have to do it for a grade, I’d want to think of something.