Dear Eileen,
I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said about food insecurity in our community. I have an idea!
Every year at the holidays, my family makes a homemade gift for our friends and neighbors with food that we’ve grown on the farm. Last year we made Veggie Confetti Sauce. It’s a recipe my mom came up with for the restaurant, and it’s full of good stuff like tomatoes, zucchini, carrots, onions, and peppers. It’s great on pasta or even as a soup.
What if you had an event where volunteers made this sauce? I’m sure Pleasant View Farm could donate the vegetables, and we could give the sauce to the families at Helping Hands.
Sincerely,
Blaire Wilson
I went back out to the field to help Cat, eager to get Eileen’s response.
As soon as Cat and I were done, I raced back inside to check my tablet. Eileen had written back:
Hi, Blaire,
I love that idea! But any canned items we distribute need to be prepared in a commercially certified kitchen to meet safety standards. Maybe we could use your mom’s restaurant kitchen? And do you have volunteers in mind?
Thanks,
Eileen
The restaurant kitchen? That would be perfect! And did I have volunteers in mind? DUH. My class was full of kids still looking for a community service project.
Yes! I typed back.
Eileen’s reply came almost immediately.
That sounds wonderful! Talk to your mom and let me know what works for her schedule. Then call me and we’ll discuss details.
And suddenly, I knew it: I had found my official Community Service Challenge project.
I ran up to the inspiration board in my room. Abby’s drawings were right in the middle. I touched them with my finger.
“Wait until Abby tries the Veggie Confetti Sauce,” I told the little dog and the funny heart in the pictures. “I betcha her next drawing will be a bunch of happy dancing vegetables. You guys can all have a party right here on my wall!”
That evening, I was doing my math homework in the family kitchen. For some reason, fractions were easier when I could listen to the hum of restaurant staff voices and the clink of dishes and glasses as everyone cleaned up in the dining room.
The door from the restaurant kitchen opened, and Mom and Dad appeared, looking serious.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Well,” Mom said. “We just got a call from Eileen, at the Bluefield Helping Hands Center. She thanked us for hosting a ‘Veggie Confetti Sauce’–making event.”
Oh my gosh. I’d called Thea and told her all about it, but I hadn’t talked to my parents yet.
“Sorry,” I said. “You guys were busy with the delivery when I got my idea.” I explained everything to Mom and Dad, expecting them to look excited. But they didn’t.
“Blaire. That’s not okay,” Dad said in the voice he saved for times when he was really mad. “You absolutely cannot volunteer to host an event at the farm without checking with us first,” he added.
I swallowed hard. “But it’s going to be awesome, and the sauce will help so many families at the food pantry. Oh my gosh, we could change the name from Veggie Confetti to Awesome Sauce!”
“I’m sure it would be a wonderful project, Blaire,” Mom said. “But with all the event reservations, our kitchen has gotten much busier.”
“Oh,” I said, sinking back down into my chair and wishing I could disappear into it. “I didn’t think of that. Eileen said we needed a commercial kitchen, and I know we have one. I just—”
“—got caught up with your big idea-spark,” Mom said, then she came over and crouched down so she was eye-to-eye with me. She put her hands on both my knees. “I know, sweetie. But big ideas are complicated.”
Wait—was Mom saying no? So much for my Community Service Challenge project! Eileen was going to be so disappointed. And what about Abby and her dad and the other families at the food pantry?
“Isn’t … can’t …” I wasn’t sure what to ask next.
A big lump was forming in my throat. I shot up from the table and headed for the back stairs, running fast until I reached the third floor.
When I got there, I flopped on my bed and stared at my inspiration board. Now what?
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Mom and Dad came in.
“You left before we could finish the conversation,” Dad said.
“Well, you said no.”
Mom sat down on the bed beside me. “Not exactly. You stormed off before we finished talking. You missed something important. Plus, you were just plain rude.”
“Sorry,” I said. “What is the something important?”
“The kitchen is booked, but it’s closed every Monday,” Dad said. “That’s your mom’s day off.”
“I’m willing to let you use the kitchen some Monday for your sauce event,” Mom said.
I sat up. “You are?”
“That means your mom is giving up an evening of her own time,” Dad said.
“You don’t have to, Mom. I’ll take care of everything.”
Mom shook her head. “It’s my kitchen. Nothing happens in there without me. Besides, you kids will need adults to supervise this project if you’re going to donate the sauce. There are rules involved with food safety.”
“This is a huge project, Blaire,” Dad added. “You’ll need to work with Cat to get the vegetables you need.”
“No problem,” I said.
“And you’ll need jars,” Mom added. “Do you have money to buy them?”
“Um … I haven’t gotten that far yet,” I admitted.
Mom and Dad looked at each other. “All right, Blaire-with-the-big-ideas,” Dad said with a sigh. “I’ll help you figure that one out.”
“Thank you!” I jumped up and pulled Mom and Dad into a group hug. “This is for a really great cause—and it will be even more fun doing it together! Operation Awesome Sauce is on!”
On Monday morning, I stood inside the front doors of school. Thea and I took different buses, so we always waited for each other next to the community service display case. I looked at the photo of her cousin George’s doghouse—the one he’d made with all the cans of dog food he’d collected for the animal shelter. I bounced on my toes, imagining Operation Awesome Sauce included in the case.
WHAM! Someone crashed into me.
“Ow!” I cried.
It was Eli. Two boys from another class laughed and high-fived each other. I could tell they’d just pushed him.
“Next time, don’t take our seat on the bus,” one said as they walked away.
Eli steadied himself. He’d dropped his backpack, and stuff had spilled out all over the floor.
I bent down to help him. I picked up a copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, one of my favorite books. “Are you okay?” I asked.
He looked at me and blinked hard. Then he shrugged and took his book.
“I’m sorry about those guys,” I said. “They’re total bus bullies.”
“Whatever,” Eli said, turning to go.
Suddenly, I was annoyed that Eli never finished a conversation. “Wait,” I said. “Why won’t you let someone be your friend?”
Eli stopped and turned around to face me. “Do you really think I’m not letting anyone be my friend?”
“It kind of seems that way,” I said gently. “People want to get to know you. At least, I do. I’m sure other kids do, too.”
Eli nodded. “Okay,” he said, then headed up the stairs.
Okay … Did that mean he was going to try and be more friendly?
I hoped so. Somewhere in there was a funny kid who made videos, like I did, read the same kinds of books as I did, and had who-knows-what-else in common with me. Maybe someday soon, I’d find out.
“Okay, my friends!” Ms. Lewis began. “Blaire has something she’d like to share with us. Blaire, take it from here.”
“So,” I began. “You all know the Bluefield Helpi
ng Hands Center, right? They have a lot of families who come to their food pantry for help with groceries, but the center doesn’t always have enough supplies. I have an idea about how we could help change that.”
Just saying the word change made me even more excited to share my plan. “I love to cook, so I thought of a way to cook for the people who visit the food pantry, by making a yummy pasta sauce. I call it Awesome Sauce. But I need help. I need some volunteers to come to Pleasant View Farm on Sunday to harvest the vegetables and herbs we’d need for the sauce and make labels for the jars. Then on Monday, when the restaurant kitchen is closed, we can use it to clean and prep the veggies, cook the sauce, and put it in jars.”
I paused and looked around. Would anyone be as excited as I was? “I’m going to send around a sign-up sheet,” I said, picking up a clipboard. “There are two columns—one for each of the days.”
“Can people sign up for both days?” Ms. Lewis asked.
“Sure,” I replied.
As the clipboard made its way around the room, Ms. Lewis asked questions about Helping Hands. Soon the whole class was talking about the center and how long it had been part of the community. Everyone knew it was a place people could get clothes and household items, but a lot of kids didn’t know about the food pantry.
“How much sauce are you planning to make, Blaire?” Ms. Lewis asked.
“Well,” I said, “my dad and I talked to the manager at the hardware store, and he’s going to donate one hundred jars. So my goal is to fill them all.”
“That’s, uh, a lot of jars,” Sabrina said.
Ms. Lewis nodded. “That’s very ambitious, Blaire.”
“I know. But there are at least that many people who visit the pantry every week. And if we can do it … that’ll be …”
“Epic!” Amadi chimed in with her favorite word, and a bunch of us laughed.
When the clipboard got back to me, everyone in the room had signed up for at least one of the days. Even Eli.
“Well,” Ms. Lewis said, looking over my shoulder at the clipboard. “It’s now official: We have a class-wide Community Service Challenge project! You know, nobody’s done that in a while. This is unique. And challenging. I can’t wait to see how you pull this off.”
That made two of us.
After school, when I headed home to set up our daily afternoon coffee, tea, and cookies service for the B-and-B guests, I found Marco in the sitting room, surrounded by paint swatches.
“Hello, Blaire!” he called. “This room has the perfect light for looking at color samples.”
“I guess I never noticed that,” I said. “How are things at the Masons’ house?”
“Fabulous. We’re going to start working on the kids’ bedrooms next,” Marco said. “I would love, love, love for you to come and brainstorm with me.”
Redesigning a kid’s bedroom? DUH, yes, please! I had only a couple dozen things on my inspiration board for that, and so many idea-sparks stored in my brain, I couldn’t count them.
“Yeah!” I said. “Anytime.”
“Sunday?” Marco asked.
“Of course,” I replied. “Oh—wait.” My heart sank. “That’s the day my class is coming over to pick vegetables. We’re making pasta sauce for the food pantry,” I explained. There was no way I could go with Marco.
“Well, I’m going over in the morning if you can join me,” Marco said. Then his cell phone rang. He answered it and began speaking to someone in Spanish.
In the morning? The kids weren’t coming until after lunch. So I could go to the Masons’ house and still be back in time for all the prep stuff. Maybe I didn’t have to choose.
I caught Marco’s eye and nodded. He gave me a thumbs-up. This was going to be super-bonita!
Here’s a copy of the schedule,” I said to Cat, handing her a sheet of paper. We were sitting on the porch swing, going over the plan for the afternoon. My classmates were coming over at one o’clock and I wanted to make sure everything was organized before Marco and I left for the set.
“Wow, Blaire,” Cat said, skimming the schedule. “You’ve got it all planned out.”
I nodded. “Since I’ll be gone this morning, I wanted to make sure everything is ready to go.”
Cat looked up from her paper. “You’re leaving?”
I nodded. “I’m going with Marco to the Masons’ house. I’ll only be gone for a few hours.”
“When are you going to pick the produce your mom needs for tonight’s dinner service?” Cat asked. “Remember you promised to do that.”
Oh no. I had made that promise, and those ingredients had to be in the kitchen by noon so Mom could start prepping. “I’m sorry. I spaced out on that. It’s just that Marco invited me to work on the kids’ bedrooms. Do you, um, have time to get what Mom needs?”
Cat shook her head. “I’m helping the Martins with their booth at the Elleville farmers’ market this morning, remember?”
I hadn’t remembered that either. I was wondering if I could possibly beg Beckett to do the field work for me when Marco came out the front door. “Buenos días, ladies! Blaire, are you ready? Suzanne should be here any minute to pick us up.”
Cat just stared at me, one eyebrow raised, while Marco checked his phone. When a car pulled into the driveway, I thought it was Suzanne. But the back door opened and Abby exploded out.
“Blaire!” she called, running up to the porch to give me a hug.
“Hey!” I said, squeezing her back, trying to hide my surprise. I’d invited Abby to join us this afternoon, but she was early.
“I got called in to work,” Abby’s dad explained as he walked toward us from the car. “I asked your mom if I could drop Abby off now to play with Beckett.”
“Oh!” I said. “That’s … great. Abby, Beckett’s inside somewhere. Go find him.”
Abby dashed into the house. I really, really wanted to follow her. I’d planned to show her all the secrets of the house and farm, starting with the hidden play kitchen Dad and I had built under the stairs, but now I wouldn’t be around for that.
Abby’s dad left just as Suzanne arrived.
“Okay!” Marco said. “Off we go!”
That was my cue to follow him. I tried to take a step off the porch, but there was a heavy feeling in my stomach and my feet didn’t move.
“Um, Marco? I … er … can’t go with you today.”
“Why not?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“I’ve organized a project with my class for this afternoon and I promised Cat I’d help with the restaurant harvest this morning.” And now Abby’s here, I thought. “I’m sorry. I can’t help at the house today.”
Marco frowned. “That is a shame for me and for the show. But it’s clear that your corazón is in the right place. We have to listen to our hearts, yes?”
“Definitely,” I said. “Thanks for understanding.”
He nodded and raced down the steps into Suzanne’s car.
Cat tugged on my ponytail as she walked into the house. “Good choice, Sprout. See you this afternoon.”
“That’s a chicken?” my classmate Joey said. He wrinkled his nose at Dandelion when I held her up for everyone to see. “It looks like someone put it through the wash and it came out all fluffy.”
“It’s a Silkie chicken,” I explained, then turned to Abby standing next to me. “Abby, would you like to go in and check the nesting boxes for me? See if anyone left an egg for us?”
Abby, Beckett, and I had been all over the farm that morning. They had helped me gather produce for the restaurant, and Abby helped Mom and me make lunch. Abby played with Dash and Penelope, and Grandpa gave us all a tractor ride. But the thing Abby loved the most was the chickens. I’d shown her how to gather eggs, and she was delighted to find that they were warm when she picked them from the nest.
My classmates were amazed with the chickens, too. As everyone arrived, they gravitated to the coop to watch the birds.
Now Abby gave me a quick nod as I opened t
he gate. She came out of the nesting shed a minute later holding a small blue-gray egg.
“Why isn’t it white?” Eli asked.
“Chickens lay eggs of all different colors,” I said. “It depends on their breed.”
“This one probably came from one of our Ameraucana hens,” Grandpa added. “Some people call them Easter Egg Chickens!”
“Can I see it?” Joey asked, reaching for the egg. He grabbed it before Abby could even answer, but it flipped out of his fingers. Eli moved in a flash to catch it right before it hit the ground.
“Save!” he said, holding up the egg.
“Give it to me,” Joey said.
“I don’t think Abby was done with it yet,” Eli told him, putting the egg carefully back in Abby’s palm. She gave him a huge smile.
Thea came up beside me. “Who is that kid?” she whispered. “It’s like he’s a totally different person here than at school.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I replied.
Eli was his usual shy self when he first arrived at the farm, but as soon as he met Beckett and Abby, he was much more talkative. Beckett thought Eli was totally cool because his T-shirt had a goat in a pool wearing water wings and the words GOATS DON’T FLOAT.
“Okay, farm crew!” Cat called. “Are you ready to pick some vegetables?”
Everyone cheered, except for Eli, who took out his tablet and started shooting video.
“That’s weird,” Thea whispered.
“Well, he did say he likes to make videos,” I said as we all headed to the fields.
It took us a while to gather all the vegetables and herbs we needed, but everyone seemed to have a great time. It helped that Grandpa told funny stories about growing up on the farm, and that Cat came up with a who-can-find-the-strangest-looking-carrot contest. Abby won when she pulled one out of the ground and announced that it looked like a troll with three legs.
As we all headed back to the house, Abby slipped her hand in mind. “I can’t wait to try the sauce you make with these veggies,” she said. “It’s going to be awesome to eat something with vegetables I helped pick.”
Blaire Cooks Up a Plan (American Girl Page 6