Boiling Point

Table of Contents

 

 

 

 

GROSSET & DUNLAP
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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 : 978-1-101-15375-8

Library of Congress Control Number: 2002102955

 

Phone! called Molly Moore, who was sliding a cookie sheet out of the oven. “Can somebody get it? I have to get these cookies out of the oven before they’re totally ruined!”

“Gross!
This package of chicken is dripping!” cried Peichi Cheng. “Yuck! It’s leaking all over the place.”

“Aaah!
I dropped another egg on the floor!” groaned Shawn Jordan.

“Oh,
I‘ll
get the phone!” shouted Molly. She dropped the cookie sheet down on the counter and raced toward the phone.

“Got it!” called out Molly’s twin, Amanda. She skidded down the hall into the Moores’ kitchen and grabbed the receiver. Amanda had a weird talent of always getting the phone before Molly did.

“Hello?” said Amanda, out of breath. “This is Amanda Moore...Right. Yes, we’ve cooked for a few people. We have a new business called Dish. We cook five nights’ worth of dinners and deliver them—”

Molly, Shawn, and Peichi gasped. Amanda looked over at her sister and friends with her eyes wide, her head nodding, as if to say Can you believe
this?

Just then, a large metal spoon slipped off a counter and fell to the floor with a loud clang.

“—Um, we deliver the food to you,” continued Amanda, distracted. “Oh, you only need it for three nights? Well, we could do that, too. That’ll cost less, of course...okay...what would we make? Well, we make basic stuff, like, we could roast a chicken for you, make some homemade macaroni and cheese, some pesto sauce for pasta, stuff like that...for Thursday? I just need your name, address, and phone number. Okay. Thank you. We’ll see you then. Bye.”

She hung up. “Guess what. Chef Girls? We have another cooking job!”

“
Yesss!
” cried the girls.

“Dish
rocks!”
said Molly, as she gave her sister a high-five. “Who was that? And how did they hear about Dish? Here. help me take these cookies off the cookie sheet or they’ll keep baking.”

“
Mmmm
, chocolate chip,” said Amanda as she reached for a spatula. “I wish these were for us.”

“We can keep a few aside,” said Molly with a sly smile. “We didn’t promise our customers an entire batch! We just said we’d include ‘some cookies.’”

The twins heard the front door open.

“Cookies!” shouted their seven-year-old brother, Matthew. He came running down the hall and into the kitchen. “I could smell ’em outside!”

“Don’t slide in the chicken mess!” cried Peichi. She held her arms out wide like a traffic cop.

“Watch the egg!” said Shawn, who was wiping off the floor. “And don’t step on my hand, Matthew.”

“Wow, you guys are making a mess. Mom’s gonna be mad!” said Matthew. He stood as close as he could to the counter without stepping into the goo on the floor, and reached for a cookie.

“Gross!
Your hands are
filthy,”
cried Molly. “Wash them.
With soap.”

Matthew hated to be told what to do by his big sisters, but this time the payoff was too good. So he crossed the Moores’ big kitchen to the sink and washed off the crusty dirt.

“How’d your hands get so dirty, anyway?” asked Molly, wrinkling her freckled nose. “Get the paper towels for Peichi while you’re over there.”

“I don’t know,” said Matthew with a shrug. “Say ‘please.”’

“Please
bring the paper towels for Peichi,” said Molly with a sigh.

“Dirt just finds him, no matter what he’s doing,” joked Amanda.

“He gets dirty just sitting in church,” added Molly.

“Ha, ha, you’re so funny,” said Matthew. “Go long, Peichi!” He tossed the fat paper towel roll like a football to Peichi. It headed way too close to a ceramic cookie jar.

Luckily, Peichi caught it.

“
Oof!
” cried Peichi. “Gee,
thanks,
Matthew,” she said, rolling her eyes. Matthew held up his arms in victory and made sounds like a screaming crowd of sports fans.

Both Molly and Amanda closed their eyes and let out sighs of relief. They opened their eyes to see Matthew grabbing as many cookies as his small hands could hold.

“Hey, slow down!” cried Molly.

“These are for Ben, too.” Matthew explained, balancing eight warm, gooey cookies in his hands. Ben was Matthew’s best friend. He lived across the street. The two had been inseparable since the boys were babies. And Ben’s mom, Mrs. Bader, was Matthew’s official baby-sitter.

“Well, so much for a few cookies for us,” said Amanda, as Matthew slammed the front door shut.

“Who was on the phone, anyway?” asked Shawn.

“Someone named Mrs. Jamison. She lives on Fifth Street. She heard about our cooking from Mrs. Lawlor. I guess Mrs. Lawlor really liked the food we cooked for her after she got out of the hospital. Mrs. Jamison is having some sort of women’s group over, and she wants some fun snacks. The next day, she’s going on a business trip. Her husband can’t cook at all, and she has two little kids.”

“I can’t believe we got another call,” said Shawn, shaking her head. Here we are, doing a cooking job
today
for the Falvos—”

“I know!” cried Peichi. “I mean, we just decided to try to turn our cooking club into a little business, and our parents
finally
allowed us to do it, and Dish is taking off by itself. We haven’t even made flyers yet, or put an ad in the paper!”

“Right,” said Molly. “It’s almost happening without us. We really don’t have Dish together yet. We’re nof-we’ re not—”

“Organized,” said Amanda. “Well, guys, that’s what we have to work on. As soon as we can! In between cooking jobs.”

“Phone!” shouted Peichi.

“That’s not the phone,” Molly said with a laugh. “It’s the kitchen timer. The chicken’s done.

“Can I just say how awesome we are for cooking something this good?” said Shawn, as she carefully took the chicken out of the oven.