chapter 10
Molly could leel Ihe brighllighls in the TV studio on her face as Maris Miller asked her questions. She told Ms. Miller all kinds of things about Dish, and Kitty, and Mr. Flint’s homeroom...
Then she heard a loud beeping sound over and over, which drowned out Maris’s voice.
Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, Ms. Miller. Ms. Miller? Uh, Maris?
“Molly, honey. Wake up. It’s four-thirty.”
Molly opened her eyes to see Mom in her bathrobe, not Maris Miller. Mom’s long arm reached over Molly to turn off the beeping alarm clock on the night-stand. A light streamed out from the twins’ bathroom, where Amanda was already washing her face. Shawn was sitting up, rubbing her eyes.
It was Monday morning.
“Oh. Oh.” Molly sat upright in bed, her heart beginning to pound. She quickly swung her legs out from under the blankets. “Did I oversleep?”
“No, sweetie,” said Mom, stroking Molly’s hair. “Everything’s fine, and all the food you made yesterday is ready to go. remember?”
Molly stood up. “Oh,” she said, relieved.
“All you need to do is get ready,” Mom said gently.
“Okay.”
It was very early in the morning!
“Amanda, what are you doing?” asked Molly, dressed in her new jeans and the shirt. “Mom wants you downstairs now. She wants you to eat something.”
“I’m just using the curling iron a little. My hair looks flat! So does yours, let me fix it—”
“Amanda, the limo’s gonna be here any second and they’re picking us up first and we can’t make everyone late! Put that thing down and come on!”
“The limo’s here,” announced Dad ten minutes later. He’d been watching for it at a window. “Girls! Barbara!”
Down the hall in the kitchen, the girls shrieked.
“Let’s go!” said Mom. Carrying the chicken and the pan of lasagna, the twins hurried out the door, kissing Mr. Moore quickly on the way out. Mrs. Moore rushed in and out a few times. Shawn came out last, carrying the cake. For a moment, the girls stood still when they saw the shiny black limo waiting for them.
“Bye, girls,” said Dad in a low voice so that he wouldn’t wake the neighbors. “Have fun! Matthew and I will be watching! And Poppy! And Grandma Ruthie and your dad, Shawn!”
One by one, everyone came out of their front doors and got in the limo: first, Mrs. Cheng and Peichi, who waved eagerly, and then Natasha and Mrs. Ross.
“Isn’t this exciting? giggled Mrs. Ross. “I haven’t ridden in a limo in a long time! Or been to a television studio, ever!” She patted the leather seat with her manicured hand.
Shawn and the twins stared at her. They’d never seen her so—enthusiastic. Mrs. Cheng and Mrs. Moore giggled then, too.
“You’re as excited as we are, aren’t you?” Molly asked the moms.
“Sweetie, this is a big deal!” exclaimed Mrs. Moore. She leaned over to Mrs. Cheng and Mrs. Ross, and said, “We’ll be in the greenroom with all the guests on today’s show. I wonder who we’ll get to meet? The three women began to chat excitedly.
But as the limo glided over the Brooklyn Bridge and toward the towers of midtown Manhattan, the Chef Girls became quiet. They were deep in their thoughts, preparing for one of the biggest days of their lives.
Finally, the limo pulled up to CSM Studios, where news headlines flashed electronically around the front and side of the building.
“Look! We’re right in the middle of Times Square,” said Peichi, who was the last one to get out of the car.
“Wow”, said Molly as everyone looked up in awe at the skyscrapers and office buildings around them. “I didn’t know it was all lit up so early in the morning!”
“The flashing signs are almost as big as some of the buildings they’re on,” said Natasha. “I love that. And look, there’s the top of the Empire State building!”
“And there’s the New York Times building, Mrs. Ross pointed out, ”with the old clock on top! That’s what Times Square is named for, you know.”
“There’s Broadway,” said Amanda, looking across the street. “Look at the theaters all in a row. I wanna go to every one of these Broadway shows!”
Just then a CSM Studios security guard greeted the group, checked his clipboard for their names, and said to the moms, “You’ll need to wear these.” He handed them each a sticker that said VISITOR and the date. He placed a quick phone call, and a few minutes later, a young woman with short brown hair came to greet everyone.
“Hi, I’m Pam, a production assistant for the show. I’ll take you up to the greenroom.”
She led the group to what looked like a living room, where the guests sat on comfortable sofas and watched the show as they awaited their turn to go on.
“Hello, girls!” said Daphne, walking quickly toward them. She looked amazing, with a pale yellow silk sweater and a cream-colored skirt. With her was a young man with short red hair and a friendly smile. Daphne introduced herself to the moms, and said, “Please make yourselves comfortable, ladies. There’s plenty of coffee.” She led them to a table with coffee urns, a colorful basket of fruit, and a large plate of doughnuts and bagels.
Then Daphne turned to the girls. “Now, girls, you’re off to the makeup room. Then you’ll be brought back here to wait until it’s time for your segment. This is my assistant, Todd. He’ll take the food you brought and will give it to the food stylist. She’ll make sure that the food is put in the oven at the right time. Okay?”
Everythings moving so fast now, thought Molly.
Here we go, thought Amanda. I can’t believe this is happening!
The girls waved good-bye to their beaming moms and followed Daphne, who walked quickly down a hall that had framed photos of famous TV stars and newspeople.
“Um, Ms. Dupree? Do you think we’ll get to meet Serena?” asked Peichi.
“I hope so, but I just can’t promise it,” replied Daphne over her shoulder. “Her agent confirmed that she’ll be here, but we’re scheduled so tightly. She’s staying at the hotel across the street, and probably won’t get upstairs until after you’ve left.” She led the girls into a small, comfortable room that had a mirror with lightbulbs all around it. “This is Stephano, our fabulous makeup artist. Okay, girls, see you in a bit! And Daphne was off, her high heels clicking.
The girls forgot their disappointment about Serena when Sfephano greeted them. He had gelled, spiky black hair, emerald green eyes, and a goatee. He was so handsome that all the girls blushed when he asked their names.
“I thought the makeup artist was going to be a woman,” Peichi murmured to Amanda.
“Actually,” said Stephano, who’d overheard Peichi, “there are lots of male makeup artists. Have a seat! You get to go first!”
Peichi giggled, embarrassed that Stephano had heard her. As she climbed into the chair, she asked, “Are you gonna make up Serena?”
“No,” said Stephano with a wry smile. “She brings her own makeup artist wherever she goes. Too bad for me! But,” continued Stephano as he began to brush some powder on Peichis face, “this very brush touched Gwen Alfanis face yesterday!”
“Gwen Alfani!” shrieked Peichi. “She’s one of my favorite singers! I’ll never wash my face again!”
The girls began to chatter as Stephano joked and laughed with them.
As Amanda got into the chair, she said, “Stephano, I’m gonna need some extra makeup.”
“Why?” asked Stephano, as he searched for the right shade of powder for Amanda’s pale skin tone.
“I have circles under my eyes this morning; can’t you see them?”
Stephano chuckled and shook his head. “You girls have beautiful, perfect young skin. All you need to look absolutely gorgeous is just a little powder and lip gloss...maybe a hint of blush. But the grownups? Oh, boy do they need a lot of help!”
“Like, what do you do for them?” Molly wanted to know.
“I can make their acne di
sappear! I can make their noses look thinner or their eyes set wider apart! It’s amazing what you can do with makeup.”
As Stephano worked, Amanda began to do one of the breathing exercises that Ms. Barlow had taught her. Molly rolled her eyes in embarrassment, and the other girls giggled.
“Don’t laugh,” said Amanda. “This helps you relax. Right, Sfephano?”
“Exactly,” said Stephano, trying to hide a smile. “Gwen Alfani did it, too.”
By the time Todd ushered the girls back to the greenroom, they’d begun to feel tense. There was nothing to do now but wait.
“Who’s that man?” Amanda asked. The moms were shaking hands with a friendly looking white-haired man wearing a blue suit. They were very impressed with him.
“That’s Jimmy Carter!” said Todd. “As in, former president Jimmy Carter.”
“Really?” asked Peichi. “He was the president?”
Todd chuckled when he saw the girls’ blank looks. “I guess you’re too young to remember him. He recently won the Nobel Peace Prize. It’s a big deal that he’s here! Anyway, you’re on in about fifteen minutes...”
Fifteen minutes! Yipes! thought all the girls.
“...Eric, the stage manager, will come in to get you when it’s time,” added Todd. He handed each girl a chefs apron. “Here are your aprons! You can take them with you afterward. Daphne wants you to put them on now.”
“Oooh!” cried the girls. Each girl had gotten one in a different color.
“They’re pretty, but...so much for the T-shirts with our names on them!” groaned Peichi after Todd rushed off. “What a waste of money from the treasury!”
“Why is she making us wear aprons for the interview?” Amanda wondered aloud.
She got her answer just then, as a lanky young man approached the girls.
“Hello, girls, I’m Ben, the audio guy. I’m here to set you up for sound so that all your fans at home can hear you! Okay, let’s do this quickly, one at a time.” Starting with Peichi, he held a tiny microphone close to the top of each girl’s apron, letting the wire run down the back of the apron.
“I see, the apron will hide the wire,” said Amanda.
“Right. This way, we won’t have to run the wire down your shirts,” said Ben as he carefully tucked the wire around the top of Peichi’s pants to hide it. He then clipped the audio pack to the back of her pants.
“This is called a ‘vampire clip,’” said Ben, pointing to the microphone’s clip that had little teeth on it. He clipped the microphone underneath the front of the apron. “Now please reach in underneath and pull down that wire so it hangs straight. Thanks! Now I need an audio check to check your levels. Can you count to ten, please?”
“One, two, three, four, five, six—” said Peichi shyly.
“You’re a quiet one,” Ben told her.
“Not really!” cracked Molly, and the girls giggled.
“You’ll need to speak up,” Ben went on.
“Seven, eight, nine, ten!” said Peichi a little louder.
“Good. Thank you. Okay, the audio’s good to go,” said Ben. He looked at Amanda. “You’re next!”
When the girls were ready, Mrs. Cheng waved them over.
“Girls, this is President Jimmy Carter! Mr. President, I’d like you to meet my daughter Peichi. And please meet Amanda, Natasha, Molly, and Shawn.”
“Hello, girls,” said President Carter. He smiled and said, “I hear you have your own cooking business!”
“Hello, sir,” said the girls politely. They saw the looks that the moms were shooting them that meant, THIS IS A BIG DEAL, GIRLS!
President Carter chuckled and said, “I know you would rather have met Serena today.”
The girls smiled. They didn’t know what to say.
“When were you the president?” Peichi wanted to know. “And what are you talking about on the show?” Everyone smiled at Peichi’s boldness.
“I was president from Nineteen Seventy-Seven until Nineteen Eighty-One,” replied Mr. Carter. “I’m here to talk about my work for peace. Have a good show, girls!”
“Thank you,” said the girls in unison. The moms nodded ever so slightly at the girls, which was a signal that they could go sit down.
As the girls walked away, Mrs. Moore turned to President Carter and said in a low voice, “Would you be so kind as to sign some autographs for the girls? I know they’ll wish later that they’d thought to ask you. Especially since they’ll read about you in their history books!”
“Places,” said Eric the stage manager, striding into the greenroom. He wore a headset and mouthpiece under a battered baseball cap. “One minute.”
Everyone gasped.
“This is it!” said Mrs. Moore. “Good luck, girls!”
The moms reached out to hug the girls, but there was no time.
“Come with me,” said Eric, leading them out to two red sofas on the brightly lit set, which looked so...unreal. The lights were so bright, the girls felt as if they were outside in sunlight.
Ohmygosh! thought Natasha as her eyes adjusted to the light. There’s Pitti Huang at the anchor desk, ready to report the news! And Bill Shue, the weather guy! I guess that’s the screen where the weather map comes up on...and there are the chairs where Maris Miller and Thacher Hurley do their interviews every morning—but it looks so different with all the cameras!
Everything looks so different than it does on TV, thought Shawn. Il’s not cozy at all.
The room didn’t look so inviting in real life because it was open and there were camera and sound crews busily working around its edges.
And there were Maris Miller and Thacher Hurley, co-hosts of Good Day, America! They were seated together on a dark blue sofa on another part of the set, chatting about something the girls couldn’t hear.
It’s so weird to see famous people in real life, thought Peichi. They’re...well, real. But They look kind of fake cause they’re wearing a lot of pancake makeup—even Thacher Hurley and the weather guy!
“Lips, teeth, tip of the tongue, lips, teeth, tip of the tongue, lips, teeth, tip of the tongue!” said Amanda.
I have to go to the bathroom, thought Molly.
“Thirty seconds!” announced Eric. He went and stood near the camera that was pointed right at the girls.
The girls swallowed hard as Maris Miller came toward them. She was wearing a pretty pale-green spring suit, and her short blonde hair gleamed under the lights.
“Hello, girls!” she said warmly. “Welcome to the show! Ready? Here we go!” She sat down in a red chair facing the girls and watched Eric for her cue.
“Stand by! Camera, three, two—” said Eric, who also signaled the numbers with his fingers—then pointed his index finger at the camera. A red light on the camera signaled that it was on.
“We have some very interesting young guests today.” said Maris Miller into the camera. “Their names are Peichi Cheng, Shawn Jordan, Molly and Amanda Moore, and Natasha Ross. They call themselves the Chef Cirls! They’re from just across the river in Park Terrace, Brooklyn, and—I know from personal experience that they’re quite the gourmet cooks. They even have their own business, called Dish! That wouldn’t be so unusual, but these girls are just eleven and twelve years old! Good morning, girls; thanks for coming.
“Good morning, Ms. Miller,” said Molly. She was sitting up as straight as she could.
“Good morning,” said the rest of the girls.
Score! thought Molly. I was the first one to answer, and I remembered to say ‘Ms. Miller!’
“Molly Moore, I’d like to start with you,” said Maris Miller. But she was looking at Amanda.
Amanda opened her mouth to say something, but Molly spoke up first.
“I’m Molly, actually” she said with a little laugh.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I know that you and Amanda are twins. I can’t keep your names straight! Anyway. Molly, what gave you the idea for Dish?”
Ms. Miller was so warm, so friendly, that M
olly began to relax. She smiled and said, “Well, Amanda and I had fun cooking dinner for our family one day. Then all of us signed up for a cooking class. Um, then one day, our neighbors had a fire in their kitchen? So we cooked a weeks worth of dinners for them, to help them out. That’s kind of how it started.” Molly knew her face had become bright red, but she was grateful that she hadn’t stumbled over her words as she usually did when she was nervous.
“I see!” said Ms. Miller, her blue eyes sparkling. She looked at Peichi. “Peichi, what do you like best about having your own business?”
Peichi’s eyes grew wide, and she opened her mouth to speak—but no words came out.
“Uh—” she gulped.
Peichi was speechless!
Natasha jumped in while Peichi composed herself. “We like knowing that we’re helping people,” she said. “For instance, sometimes we cook for free, as we did for the neighbors who had the fire, or if someone is new to the neighborhood, or having a baby.”
“How do you find the time?” Ms. Miller asked as she looked at all the girls.
Amanda was just about to answer the question when Ms. Miller looked down at the notes on her lap and said, “Peichi, you take flute and Chinese lessons. Amanda, you act in school plays. Shawn, you’re a cheerleader, and Natasha, you write for the school paper. How do you girls manage to have a business, too?” She looked up at Shawn.
Hey, you forgot my softball and piano! thought Molly.
Shawn smiled. “It can be hard to find the time to do it all,” she admitted. “And once, when almost all of us got the flu at the same time, we had to hire some of our friends from cooking class—plus our cooking teacher—to help out on a big job!”
Ms. Miller laughed. “That’s great. Now, what sorts of things do you cook on a typical job?” She looked around at all the girls.
Lights! Camera! Cook! Page 7