On the Back Burner

by Diane Muldrow

  Her next class was social studies. The teacher, Mr. Degregorio, returned the test he’d given at the end of last week. Mr. Degregorio was really funny. He always joked with the kids. But when he returned Peichi’s test, he just put it facedown on her desk and walked away.

  Peichi turned the paper over long enough to see an F written on it. Then she turned it facedown again. She was so used to getting good grades that this seemed unreal, as if she were having some kind of school nightmare from which she couldn’t wake up.

  “Peichi, you failed the pop quiz, and now you’ve failed this test, which is worth twenty percent of your grade,” Mr. Degregorio asked her after class. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. Peichi felt so close to tears that she was afraid if she said anything else, she would start crying right in front of Mr. Degregorio.

  Mr. Degregorio sighed. “Well, let me know if you need any extra help, Peichi. I’m always around after school. I’ll need you to bring back that test signed by your parents, okay?”

  Peichi nodded, and this time she didn’t think she could fight back the tears. She grabbed the paper off his desk and hurried to the girls’ room. Rushing into an empty stall, she locked it and started to really sob. How could she have allowed herself to get so distracted? Her parents would flip when they saw these three tests. When she pictured their disappointed faces, she began to cry even harder.

  “Peichi?” Amanda’s voice came to her from outside the stall. “Are you okay?”

  Peichi opened the door. “Not really,” she admitted, wiping her eyes. “How did you know I was in here?”

  “I saw your sneakers under the door,” Amanda said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I failed three tests and I have to get them signed.”

  Amanda sighed. “Ouch! That’s bad.”

  “No kidding, that’s bad!” Peichi agreed. “What am I going to do?”

  They stood together, not speaking for a minute or so, each of them trying to figure out some solution to this problem. “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Amanda said finally. “Remember when Molly was doing so badly in math a while back? She thought our parents were going to go wild when she brought home some terrible grades, but they didn’t. They just saw it as a problem that needed to be solved and with some tutoring from Athena, Molly has improved a lot.”

  “Yeah, but your parents are not my parents,” Peichi said glumly.

  “What are you talking about? Your parents are really nice,” Amanda reminded her.

  “They’re nice, but they expect a lot. I can’t bear to tell them about this. They’ll be so disappointed in me! Last year I got straight As, remember?”

  “Promise them you’ll work harder. You have been goofing off sometimes lately, right? So all you have to do is tell your parents that you’ll work really, really hard and bring your grades up and I bet they’ll understand.”

  Peichi blew her nose. “That might work,” she said. “I will work harder, too. I don’t want to disappoint them and I do not want to go to summer school this summer.”

  “Come on, let’s go to lunch. You can forget about this for a while. We have gym next and there’s no way you can fail a test there.”

  “Okay,” Peichi agreed, “but could you do me one favor?”

  “Sure, what?” Amanda agreed as they left the girls’ room.

  “Don’t tell the others about this yet. I mean, I’ll tell them, but just not right now. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Amanda promised.

  After dinner that night, the twins checked their e-mail. “Peichi’s online,” Amanda noticed the moment they brought up their Buddy List. The twins were squeezed into the same chair, but since Amanda was closest to the mouse, she did the typing.

  Mooretimes2: Hi, whazzup?

  Molly and Amanda sat back and waited for Peichi’s reply. “Let me try again,” Amanda suggested when no reply appeared.

  Mooretimes2: nobody there?????

  “Why isn’t she answering?” Molly wondered.

  “Maybe she’s busy doing research on the Internet for school,” Amanda suggested. She really hoped so, because that would mean Peichi was taking her schoolwork seriously again.

  “She’s probably looking up stuff about Chinese New Year,” Molly said. “That’s all she ever thinks about lately.”

  “I think that’s all over with now,” Amanda said.

  “Why?” Molly asked. “Has something happened?”

  Amanda bit her lip. It felt strange to keep Peichi’s secret from Molly. The twins usually told each other everything. But I’m doing the right thing, Amanda told herself. Molly will find out soon enough. It’s Peichi’s thing to tell her, anyway—not mine.

  Shawn’s name appeared on the buddy list, so Amanda sent an IM to her.

  mooretimes2 : Hi, whazzup?

  qtpie490: A lot! Did you see Peichi’s e-mail?

  mooretimes2: No. Checking. brb

  Molly and Amanda switched over to e-mail and found the message from Peichi.

  To: mooretimes2, qtpie490, BrooklynNatasha

  From: happyface

  Re: Really, really sorry

  Hi Chef Girls,

  I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but lately I haven’t been paying a lot of attention to school. Today it caught up with me and I brought home three tests with really bad grades. They had to be signed and my parents took this bad news super seriously. How seriously? For starters, I’m grounded. I can’t hang out with you all until my grades come back up. And no Dish. These grades will definitely bring down my average a lot and it could take a while to get my grades up again.

  There’s even more. My parents aren’t sure you guys can come over for Chinese New Year anymore. They said they thought they could treat me like an adult this year but maybe they were wrong. That hurts a lot more than being grounded.

  And also, I can’t use the phone or the computer until my grades come up. I’m only allowed to use it tonight so I can write this e-mail. After this, you won’t be hearing from me online for awhile.

  I’m so glad that at least I have to go to school. At least I’ll have some way to see all of you. I’m sorry I won’t be around to help with Dish jobs and I just hope I’ll have my grades straightened out before the big job with Mrs. Kramer. I never wanted to let you guys down, but it looks like I have.

  Peichi

  “Wow!” Molly said, exhaling. “That’s terrible. Poor Peichi. I feel so sorry for her.”

  “I do, too,” Amanda agreed. “You should have seen her this afternoon. She was crying and everything.” She turned to see Molly staring at her with a shocked, confused expression. “What?” Amanda asked.

  “You knew this afternoon but you didn’t tell me?” Molly asked. “I thought we tell each other everything. I told you when I found Natasha’s journal, didn’t I?”

  “I know you did, Molls. And I usually tell you everything, too,” Amanda began slowly. “But Peichi asked me not to tell anyone until she was ready for everyone to know. What would you have done, Molly? Broken your promise to Peichi? I know you wouldn’t have, and I didn’t want to, either.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Molly admitted. In some ways, she was impressed that Amanda had been able to keep the secret. In other ways, though, it made her feel uneasy. The twins never kept secrets from each other and she didn’t like the idea of starting now.

  “I’m kind of tired,” Molly said. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Okay. Me too. First I’m going to get back to Shawn, though,” Amanda said.

  Molly nodded and got up from her chair, which nearly sent Amanda sprawling to the ground. “Sorry,” she said.

  “No problem, Amanda replied. “Molly, you’re not mad that I kept Peichi’s secret, are you?”

  “No, I’m not,” Molly answered honestly. “I think you did the right thing.”

  “Thanks,” Amanda said. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

  Chapter 7

  “Peichi!” Molly called after her fri
end the next day in school right before homeroom. “Wait up.” She hurried down the hall to catch up. “I have to talk to you.”

  Peichi looked pale and had circles under her eyes. Molly figured that she hadn’t slept much the night before.

  “Hey,” Peichi said. She brightened when she saw Molly. “I’m so glad you’re speaking to me! I was afraid you would want to kick me out of Dish after everything!”

  “What?” Molly shrieked. “We would never kick you out of Dish. Why would you even think that?”

  “I was so worried that you guys would feel like I really let you down,” Peichi replied. “This is the second time I’ve gotten myself grounded right when Dish had a huge job!”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Molly said with a laugh. “We all get grounded sometimes. Listen, I had an idea. Why don’t you come to my tutoring sessions with Athena for help in math?”

  Peichi wrapped Molly in a hug. “That sounds great, Molly. Thanks so much!”

  “No problem,” Molly said.

  “Now wish me luck. Mr. Degregorio wants me to come see him during homeroom period.”

  “What does he want? Do you know?” Molly asked.

  Peichi shook her head. “No. But my parents left him a message yesterday asking to speak to him about my grades! They want to have a conference! It’s totally embarrassing!

  “Mr. D. is nice,” Molly said. “Don’t worry about talking to him.”

  Despite Molly’s encouragement, Peichi was worried when she walked into his classroom. Would he think less of her for failing a major test in his class? Peichi liked Mr. D. and wanted him to think of her as a good student.

  “Hi, Peichi,” he greeted her when she went to his room. “Come in and have a seat. I got the message from your parents and I’m going to call them back. Will anyone be home at lunchtime?”

  “My mother will.”

  “Good. I wanted to talk to you before I spoke to your mother. Peichi, you’re one of my brightest students. I’ve been worried about you, wondering why your grades have suddenly slipped. Could you possibly need an eye exam? It seems as if you haven’t been doing the reading assignments. Sometimes a student will stop reading if his or her eyes are strained.”

  Peichi looked down at the floor as her face turned red. “It’s not my eyes,” she admitted. “I guess I just got majorly distracted. I really am back on track now and I want to get my grades up as quickly as I can.”

  “That’s great news,” Mr. D. said. “I’m happy to hear it.”

  “I—I was wondering if there was anything I could do for extra credit,” Peichi asked hesitantly. “I could do a project or a report or—something.”

  Mr. D. folded his arms thoughtfully and pushed back in his chair. “I’d have to offer the whole class the same chance or it wouldn’t be fair,” he said, as if he were thinking aloud. “But you’re not the only one who would benefit from a chance to improve his or her grade. Okay! How about this? Write up a paragraph proposing an extra credit project you’d like to work on. Tell me exactly what you’d like to do and when you’ll turn it in.”

  “That sounds great!” Peichi cried.

  “Don’t start it until I approve it,” warned Mr. D. “I’ll give you more details in class when I tell the other students about it.”

  Peichi felt a wave of relief come over her. “Thank you so much!” she said. “I really appreciate it, Mr. D.”

  Mr. D. smiled. “You’re welcome, Peichi. Now you’d better get back to homeroom.”

  “I will. Right away,” she said, backing out the door. Peichi nearly skipped back to homeroom. With Molly’s tutor to help her in math, and this project to boost her social studies mark, she was going to get back on track.

  “What should we make for dinner. Dad?” Shawn asked later that day as she peered into their freezer. “We have chicken cutlets. I could show you how to make chicken piccata. It’s a Dish specialty.”

  “Sounds good,” Mr. Jordan agreed.

  Shawn took out the pack of chicken cutlets and defrosted it in the microwave. Cooking tonight with her dad had put her in a really good mood. Before Shawn had learned how to cook, they ate a lot of frozen food and takeout. Now, it always made her happy to cook something fresh and delicious with her dad.

  Shawn crouched in front of the bottom cabinets that held the pots and pans. Way in back, she spotted the large frying pan she was looking for. With lots of clanging and banging of cookware, she reached in and pulled it to the front. The pan looked really old—its surface was covered with scratches, dents, and flaking metal. Maybe another pan would be better.

  Setting the first pan aside, she reached in for another, slightly smaller frying pan. “Ew,” she muttered when she inspected it. This one was in even worse shape than the first one.

  “What’s the matter?” Mr. Jordan asked, looking up from the tests he was grading at the kitchen table. Shawn’s dad was a professor at Brooklyn College.

  Shawn rocked back on her heels and stood. “What’s with these gross old pans, Dad? They’re, like, a hundred years old.”

  Her father smiled and took the pot from her hands. “I can tell you exactly how old they are,” he said. “They’re fifteen years old. Your mother and I got them as a wedding present.”

  “I suppose I can use one of them for tonight, but we need to replace these,” Shawn said. “It’s probably not even healthy to cook on these, Dad! What if this surface stuff that’s coming off gets in our food?”

  “You’re right,” Mr. Jordan agreed. “I’ll scrub this pan down really well and then tomorrow we’ll go pick out some new ones.

  “Yay!” Shawn cheered. “Now the next question is, do we have capers?”

  “Capers?” her dad asked. “Do you mean those little green, round things that come in a jar?”

  “Yeah. We have them?”

  “No and, to be honest, there’s a reason we don’t. I can’t stand them. I know how to make chicken parmigiana. Could we have that instead? We can put it in a glass baking dish instead of one of those old pans,” he added, laughing.

  “Way to go, Dad!” Shawn said.

  “Dish is going to cook chicken parmigiana for the Kramer cooking job, so it would be great to try it out tonight!”

  Their chicken parmigiana was delicious and Shawn decided she’d add it to the Chef Girls’ book of recipes at the next meeting. When her father got home from work the next day, Shawn was just getting home from cheering practice. “Are you ready to go pan shopping?” she asked before he even took off his coat.

  “Absolutely. Where are we going?” her dad asked.

  “Park Terrace Cookware?” Shawn suggested. “They have nice pans.”

  Shawn and her dad stepped out onto Park Street, into the dusky late afternoon. Despite the freezing wind that blew up the back of her jacket, Shawn felt warm inside. It felt good to go shopping with her dad. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his down jacket and she wrapped her gloved hand around the crook of his arm. They walked down sloping Third Street, past the cozy brown-stones to the busy, bustling stores on Seventh Avenue.

  A small bell jingled as Mr. Jordan pulled open the glass door of Park Terrace Cookware. “Hello, Shawn,” said an attractive woman with red hair who was working behind the counter. It was Carmen Piccolo, who had taught the cooking class the girls took last summer. “How are you?” she asked.

  “Fine, thanks,” Shawn said. “How are you? I didn’t know you worked in the store.”

  Carmen lowered her voice like she was telling Shawn a secret. “Technically, I don’t. But three of the salespeople are out with the flu, and Jim, the owner, is a friend of mine. So I told him I’d help out a few nights this week since he’s shorthanded. Is this your dad?”

  Her father extended his hand to Carmen. “Will Jordan,” he introduced himself.

  “Carmen Piccolo. I’m pleased to meet you. You have a great daughter here.”

  “Thank you. I think she’s pretty great, too. She tells me the pots and pans we own should a
ll be thrown away and replaced by new ones.”

  Carmen put her hand on Shawn’s shoulder. “Good girl. You can’t make yummy food in crummy pots and pans.” She led them over to a large selection of cookware displayed against one entire wall of the store. “This is our best line of cookware. It’s what many professional chefs use.

  Mr. Jordan picked up a large frying pan and turned it over to read the price sticker. “This costs as much as my first car did,” he said with a funny, shocked expression on his face. That made Carmen laugh. “I’m kidding, of course,” he said. “But I never expected to pay this much for a pan.”

  “They’re very expensive, it’s true,” Carmen said. “But we have many other excellent pans.”

  “We want something just a notch down,” he told her.

  “I understand completely,” Carmen said, walking toward another section of the wall. “These are the pans I use,” she said. “They’re still somewhat expensive, but I think they’re a great value.” She turned to Shawn. “This is the cookware we used in class.”

  “These pans are really great, Dad,” she told him. “Everything cooks perfectly because the pots and pans heat up evenly. And the handles don’t even get hot.”

  “Sounds like my kind of pans,” Mr. Jordan said.

  “You get six pieces of cookware in this one box,” Carmen said. “It gives you everything you need.”

  “Everything I’ll ever need in one box?” Mr. Jordan joked. “Now that’s a good deal.”

  Carmen laughed again. “I meant it has everything you need in terms of cookware,” she said. “I’m not promising miracles.”

  Shawn was glad her father was getting along so well with Carmen. Her former cooking teacher was one of her favorite people.