But right as I said that, the egg carton fell from my arms and crashed to the floor with a splat.
Chapter Sixteen
Turning Up the Heat
“Oh no!” Sadie cried. She ran to pick up the carton but it was already a soggy mess. Banana ran to lap up the egg whites that had leaked out onto the floor. I didn’t run anywhere—I was too stunned to move. What if all the eggs were cracked?
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” Monica said. She looked just as upset as I felt.
My heart thudded fast and I wanted to scream, Well, if you hadn’t tried to help me, I wouldn’t have dropped them! But the words echoed in my head before they came out, and I could hear how silly they sounded. I clamped my lips shut. My face felt hot with shame.
I stared at my feet. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who moved too quickly,” I mumbled. Though it was a little bit her fault too, I thought. If Monica hadn’t been here, none of this would have happened.
Dad appeared in the doorway. “Everything all right in here? I thought I heard an oh no.”
“We dropped the eggs,” Isabel explained. She and Sadie opened the carton over the sink. Sadie wrinkled her nose and Isabel cringed. “They’re all broken,” she said.
“Uh-oh,” Dad said. He looked at the clock. “We don’t have time to get to the store and back. The bake sale starts in an hour.”
My insides tumbled with panic. Without eggs, we couldn’t make any cookies. The whole recipe would be ruined. What were we going to do?
Monica peeked over Sadie’s shoulder into the egg carton. “Maybe we can save some of what’s left. Do you have a bowl?” she asked.
I got out a cereal bowl and brought it over to where they were standing. Monica reached into the carton and pulled out half an egg shell. She tipped its contents into the bowl. “That’s half an egg,” she said. “How many do we need?”
“Two,” I said. Banana sat at my feet, right below the egg bowl, and looked up, her eyes as round as yolks.
Isabel picked up another broken egg and put that in the bowl too. “Half plus half equals one. We’ll have to fish out that piece of shell, though.”
Hope blasted through my body like a sugar rush. “This might work!” I gave Monica a grateful smile. She smiled back. Maybe we hadn’t ruined everything.
Dad nodded. “I think it will. Ready to preheat that oven, then?”
Dad helped me with the oven while Isabel, Monica, and Sadie rescued what we hoped added up to be two whole eggs, and fished out the broken eggshell with a spoon. I got out the mixing bowls and measuring cups, and showed the others how to scoop up and level off the flour and oats, while Banana showed them how to watch for any falling ingredients. Sadie stirred in the peanut butter while I cut up two bananas and Isabel sang a silly song she’d made up on the spot. Monica splashed in the milk, Isabel added the pinch of salt, and we all joined in the chorus: “Da-da-dee, da-da-dum, cookie time, yum-yum-yum!” We took turns stirring the batter with a big wooden spoon. Baking with friends was even more fun than I’d thought it would be.
“Can we taste the dough?” Isabel asked.
“No, we shouldn’t, not until it’s baked. Eating raw eggs can be dangerous,” Sadie said.
I hadn’t known that about eggs, but I nodded like I did, since I was supposed to be the baking expert.
“It looks sooooo good,” Monica said. “I can’t believe you made this up, Anna! Everyone’s going to be super impressed.” I was glad she thought so. I thought it too.
We greased the cookie sheets, scooped out spoonfuls of dough, and rolled them into little balls. When the dough balls were all lined up on the cookie sheets, I showed everyone how to flatten them with our palms.
Isabel giggled. “Squishing the cookies is my favorite part!”
Sadie grinned. “My favorite part is going to be eating them.”
I called Dad in to help us put the cookies in the oven, then we set the timer and put away all the ingredients while we waited for the cookies to bake. Soon the kitchen smelled like peanut- butter-oatmeal-banana deliciousness. My mouth watered and Banana was already starting to beg. I couldn’t wait to try them.
When the timer went off, Dad pulled the cookie sheets out of the oven using two thick pot holders, and set them on a rack to cool. When we couldn’t wait another second longer, I used a metal spatula to lift up one of the cookies and split it into four pieces. “The first Sanabel!” I said, and handed out the quarters.
I watched as Isabel put her whole piece in her mouth and chewed. Her eyebrows scrunched together and her smile dropped. Beside her, Sadie spit a chewed-up mouthful back out into her palm. Monica swallowed her bite politely then ran to get a drink of water.
Banana’s eyes seemed to say exactly what I was thinking: Oh no, oh no, oh no.
Chapter Seventeen
Taste Test Time
I lifted the warm piece of cookie to my lips and forced myself to try it. I closed my eyes as I mashed the too-hard Sanabel between my teeth. It was tough and dry and not at all like what I’d imagined when I invented the recipe. It didn’t even taste like a cookie, really. Cookies were supposed to taste good.
I swallowed down the disappointing bite and opened my eyes. Everyone was staring at me, even Banana. My cheeks turned hot with embarrassment. “That’s not what they’re supposed to taste like,” I said. “I don’t know what went wrong.”
“Aren’t cookies usually . . . sweeter?” Monica asked.
I groaned. “Oh no. That’s it! I forgot the sugar.” I sank down to the floor and sat with my face in my hands. So much for my being an expert baker.
Banana tried to lick my ear but I moved away from her tongue. I didn’t want her to comfort me. I didn’t deserve her pity. “How could I have done that? This is a total disaster.” But deep down, I knew how it had happened. I’d been so worked up about Monica, I couldn’t focus on anything else. I wished I could blame her for that, but I could only blame myself.
“It’s okay, Anna. We’ll just make another batch,” Isabel said.
I dropped my hands to my lap and looked up at her. “We can’t! We’d never get them done in time. Besides, we’re out of eggs and the cookies won’t work without those, either.”
“Maybe some people will like them anyway. Not everyone wants to eat sweet things,” Sadie said. But she didn’t sound like she believed it.
I shook my head. “They taste like dog food—maybe worse. We can’t sell these. I’m sorry. I ruined everything.”
Monica laughed. For a second I thought she must be the meanest person in the world, laughing at my failure like that. But then she said, “Like dog food! That’s perfect!” and gave me an excited smile. “We can sell them as dog treats! People—and pups—will love it.”
Sadie jumped up and down. “Yes! Great idea!”
Isabel broke a piece off one of the cookies and tossed it in the air. “What do you think, Banana?”
Banana leaped to catch the treat in her mouth. She swallowed it, spun in a happy circle, and stood up on her hind legs, begging for more.
“She loves it!” Sadie said.
“Hooray for Sanabel dog biscuits! They’ll be gobbled up in no time,” Monica said.
I stood up. “Actually, I think we should call them Sanabelicas,” I said. “For SA-die, An-NA, Isa-BEL, and Mon-ICA.”
Monica looked at me shyly. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“Positive. After all, you saved the day—twice! We couldn’t have done it without you,” I said.
“Yeah!” Isabel cheered at the same time Sadie said, “True!” Isabel held up her hand for a four-way high-five, and Monica showed me the finger-wiggle move I had seen them all do at lunchtime. After two tries, I got it. It was pretty cool.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I told her, and I meant it.
Chapter Eighteen
Dog Tested, Brother Approved
When the Sanabelicas had cooled, we packed them in a cookie tin to bring to
the bake sale. Chuck walked into the kitchen, holding a stack of library books to return. “Dad says to tell you it’s almost time to go,” he said. “Ooooh, cookies! Don’t mind if I do.” He helped himself to a dog treat before I could stop him.
Sadie’s mouth hung wide open and Banana’s tail shot straight up, but Monica caught my eye as Chuck chewed and swallowed, and we burst into giggles. “What?” Chuck said. We laughed even harder.
Chuck rolled his eyes. “Weirdos.” He snatched another dog treat and left the room.
“We should make a sign: Sanabelicas! The perfect treat for your dog . . . or your brother,” Sadie said.
“Yes!” Isabel grabbed a marker out of the pen jar on the counter.
“That’s totally something my older brother would do too,” Monica said. “If I bring some home for Nickels, I’ll probably have to hide them from Diego.”
Isabel looked up from the sign she was making. “Nickels is her dog. Diego is the brother,” she explained.
“You have a dog? And a brother?” I asked. Monica nodded. “Cool!” I hadn’t realized we had so much in common.
“Nickels and Banana should get together sometime. It would be really cute to watch them play,” Monica said.
Banana wiggled her whole backside at the idea of a new friend. “Totally,” I agreed.
Banana and I ran upstairs to get my overnight bag for the sleepover, while Isabel finished the sign and Monica and Sadie finished the kitchen cleanup. When we came back downstairs, Dad was jiggling his car keys. He looked inside the cookie tin and read Isabel’s sign. “Dog biscuits, huh? Great idea,” he said. “What’s the secret ingredient?”
“Friendship,” I said.
Monica winked. “And teamwork,” she added.
Dad tossed his keys in the air then caught them. “Sounds like a perfect combination,” he said.
I smiled at my three friends and Banana. “It is.”
Acknowledgments
Like baking, writing a story is even more fun when it is done with or for friends, and the Anna, Banana books are for sure a team effort. I am grateful to everyone at S&S who helps stir the pot, including editor Alexa Pastor (who knows just the right spices to include), editrix emeritus Kristin Ostby, art director Laurent Linn, publicist Audrey Gibbons, production editor Katrina Groover, production manager Martha Hanson, publisher Justin Chanda, and deputy publisher Anne Zafian. Meg Park’s illustrations are a key not-so-secret ingredient. My agent, Meredith Kaffel Simonoff, knows when to add sugar and when to add salt. (She is one smart cookie.)
Thank you to my family—especially Mama, Ati, Jeff, Jeremy, Erika, Anna, and Sophia—for encouraging even my most unusual concoctions. And thank you to my friends, who provide the best kinds of nourishment, and Arugula Badidea, who stirs up the cutest trouble.
The best thing about writing a story is knowing a reader might gobble it up. Thank you, reader, for choosing this book. I hope you found it tasty.
Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next book in the series, ANNA, BANANA, AND THE SLEEPOVER SECRET
Pajama Plans
“Which pajamas should I bring: the rainbow pair or the pony pair?” I asked, peering into the top drawer of my dresser.
My dog, Banana, tipped her head to one side as she considered the question.
“The rainbow ones are softer, but the pony ones are newer,” I said. I grabbed both pairs and held them out for inspection. Banana sniffed each one, then nudged my left hand with her snout.
I grinned. “Rainbows it is.” I returned the ponies to their drawer and tucked the rainbow pajamas into my backpack, on top of the toothbrush, hairbrush, underwear, socks, shirt, leggings, glow-in-the-dark clawed dragon-feet slippers, and sparkly nail polish that I had already packed for the sleepover. I went to my closet and stood on tiptoe to pull my sleeping bag off its high shelf, and as I turned back around with it, I heard a familiar squeak. I looked down and saw Banana holding her favorite toy, a yellow plastic bunny, in her mouth. She wagged her tail hopefully, and bit down to make it squeak again.
I bent to take it from her, and tossed it across the room. It landed in the doggy basket right next to my bed, where Banana always sleeps. She bounded over to retrieve it, and carried it back to me proudly. She dropped it at my feet and looked up at me, hoping I would throw it for her again.
I knew this game: Banana wanted to distract me from packing. I hesitated, and she nosed at the toy, pushing it toward me.
I gave in. “I can’t play all day,” I warned her as I flicked the bunny high into the air. “Isabel’s expecting us to come over soon.”
Banana jumped to catch the toy before it could fall to the ground, and carried it over to my open backpack. She dropped the bunny inside. I laughed, but I also felt a twinge of guilt as I took the toy back out. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “By ‘us’ I meant Sadie and me. I can’t bring you to the sleepover. Unfortunately, dogs aren’t invited.”
Isabel’s giant orange tabby cat, Mewsic, doesn’t get along well with other animals, so it wouldn’t be fair to bring Banana into Mewsic’s home. We had discussed this already and I knew Banana understood that I would include her in the sleepover if I could, but that didn’t stop her ears from drooping with disappointment.
I squeezed the yellow bunny, hoping its squeaks would cheer her up, and tossed it as hard as I could. Banana watched as the bunny sailed over her head and landed on the other side of the room, but she didn’t even try to chase it.
“Aw, I’m going to miss you too,” I said. I dropped to my knees and nuzzled my face against her soft fur. “But it’s only for one night. I’ll be back tomorrow morning with lots of stories to tell.”
Banana’s ears perked back up. She loves a good story.
“Knock knock,” a voice said. Banana and I looked up to see my mom standing in the open doorway to my room. She was wearing the oversize sweatshirt my brother, Chuck, and I had given her for her last birthday. It was supersoft and had big pockets where she could put her hands if they got cold. Mom’s fingers were always freezing. “You all packed for the sleepover?” she asked. I nodded. “Good. You’ve got just enough time for a quick lunch before Sadie’s dad picks you up. Come on downstairs. Dad’s making grilled cheese.”
“Cheese!” I cheered, and Banana twirled in a circle, chasing her own tail with excitement. She loves cheese almost as much as she loves stories.
Banana led the way out of my room and I raced down the stairs after her. We both knew I would sneak her a small bite of cheese if I got the chance. I wasn’t really supposed to feed her at the table, of course, but Mom and Dad didn’t have to know.
It would be our little secret.
About the Author
Anica Mrose Rissi grew up on an island off the coast of Maine, where she read a lot of books and loved a lot of pets. She now tells and collects stories, makes up songs on her violin, and eats lots of cheese with her friends and her dog, Arugula, in Princeton, New Jersey. Find out more at anicarissi.com and follow @AnicaRissi on Instagram.
Meg Park is a character designer and illustrator for clients including Disney, Nickelodeon, and Paramount Pictures. Meg lives in Scotland with her two cats, Louie and Boo. She loves drawing, painting, and telling stories through her artwork. To learn more about Meg and her art, you can visit megpark.com.
Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
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DON’T MISS THESE OTHER GREAT BOOKS IN THE ANNA, BANANA SERIES!
Anna, Banana, and the Friendship Split
Anna, Banana, and the Monkey in the Middle
Anna, Banana, and the Big-Mouth Bet
Anna, Banana, and the Puppy Parade
Anna, Banana, and the Little Lost Kitten
AND COMING SOON . . .
Anna, Banana, and the Sleepover Secret
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2018 by Anica Mrose Rissi
Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Meg Park
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Rissi, Anica Mrose, author. | Park, Meg, illustrator.
Title: Anna, Banana, and the recipe for disaster / Anica Mrose Rissi ;
Illustrated by Meg Park.
Description: First edition. | New York : Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers,
Anna, Banana, and the Recipe for Disaster Page 4