Hey, it’s not my fault you can’t drink a meatball through a straw.
There are only two words that could describe the mood in our apartment that night: Dark gray cloud. Okay, that’s three words, but you get the idea.
The dark gray cloud, also known as Judith Ann Zipzer, was in a major bad mood. From the way she was acting, you would have thought she had lost the cooking competition.
“Cheer up, Judy,” I said to her as she sat at the kitchen table polishing her vegetables. “You’re one of the two finalists.”
“First of all, Henry,” she snapped, “it’s not Judy, it’s Judith Ann. We’ve gone over that before. And second of all, my victory means nothing when the other finalist is you—and your peanut butter mess.”
Ouch. That girl had one sharp tongue.
I was never so glad to hear the doorbell ring. I raced out of the kitchen with my ears still burning.
It was my grandfather, Papa Pete, at the door. He was wearing the red running suit he always wears on the weekends. Comfort first is his motto. Papa Pete’s face was so happy that the mood in the house changed immediately.
“Hey, Hankie,” he shouted as he came in the door. “Give your grandpa a big hug.”
Papa Pete is so tall that when he hugs you, he lifts you right off your feet.
“I hear you’re a champion cook,” he said. “Just like me.”
Papa Pete ran the Crunchy Pickle, which is a deli on Broadway, a block away from our apartment. My mom runs it now. She’s into health food and is trying to make luncheon meats good for you. Her specialty is soylami—which is a combination of gray soy stuff and other non-salami type things. It’s got everything in it but taste. Papa Pete still works at the sandwich counter at lunchtime and slips real salami into the sandwiches. You always know when someone’s eating a Papa Pete sandwich because they’re smiling while they’re chewing.
“Papa Pete, you won’t believe what I did,” I told him. “My winning dish came to me in a flash.”
“Your mother told me,” he said with a grin. “Lunch in a glass. I love the sound of that.”
“And if it wins, I could become really famous. First, I’ll demonstrate it on TV. And then, every restaurant in New York will have it on the menu. We could even put a sign in front of the Crunchy Pickle that says ‘Home of Hank Zipzer’s Famous Lunch in a Glass.’ We’ll have lines around the block. We’ll have to hire our own security guard.”
“Slow down there, Hankie,” Papa Pete said. “You haven’t won yet.”
“Don’t tell Judith Ann,” I whispered in his ear, “but I really hope I do!”
“It’ll be our secret,” he whispered back. We hooked our pinkie fingers together then pulled them apart. It was our code for keeping a secret.
Holding up a brown paper bag he had brought, Papa Pete said a loud voice, “Attention, Zipzer family. I brought dinner. Pickles, potato salad, and sandwiches. Half pastrami, half soylami.”
“And guess which ones are going to be left over,” I said.
“I like soylami,” Emily said, coming into the room wearing her iguana around her neck like a scarf.
“That’s because all five of your taste buds are asleep on your tongue,” I said.
“For your information, the human tongue has between two thousand and eight thousand taste buds,” Emily said. “And all of mine are wide awake, thank you very much.”
“Really? Because I thought I heard them snoring.”
Papa Pete let out one of his great big laughs, the kind that make his whole body shake.
“Don’t encourage him, Pete,” my father said, looking up from his crossword puzzle. “Reward Hank when his grades improve, not for his wisecracks.”
Papa Pete and my mom took the sandwiches and pickles out of the bag.
“Come have dinner with us,” my mom called to Judith Ann. “We have a delicious deli sandwich waiting for you.”
The kitchen door swung open, and Judith Ann stuck her head out.
“Congratulations to you!” Papa Pete said to her, reaching out to shake her hand. “I heard you wowed the judges, too. I love a good meatball myself. My secret is lots of garlic. What’s yours?”
“No meat,” she told him.
“Oh,” Papa Pete said. “I never would have thought of that. Meatless, huh? So I bet you’ll pick one of these soylami sandwiches, right?”
“I can’t join you for dinner,” Judith Ann said. “I have to practice making my dish one more time. Everything has to be perfect for the finals tomorrow.”
Miss Dark Gray Cloud disappeared back into the kitchen.
“She’s a serious young woman,” Papa Pete said. “Okay, who wants soylami?”
“Me!” Emily shouted.
“Not me!” I shouted. “I’ll take the real pastrami. And lots of mustard.”
“Oh, mustard!” Papa Pete said. “I knew I forgot something.”
“That’s all right.” I hopped to my feet. “I’ll get it.”
As I walked into the kitchen, I expected to see piles of vegetables all over the kitchen counter, and Judith Ann chopping up a storm. But that isn’t what I saw at all.
What I saw was something I never thought I’d see in my whole life.
Judith Ann was crying. And by crying, I don’t mean a few tears. She had turned herself into a major waterworks factory. She was sitting on the floor with her head in her hands, the tears squirting out of her eyes like she was a lawn sprinkler.
“Judith Ann?” I said. “Did you cut yourself when you were chopping your vegetables?”
She shook her head no.
“Did you fall down?”
Again, she shook her head no.
“Well, were you attacked by one of your eggplants?”
I thought that would make her laugh, but it didn’t. In fact, she cried even louder.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, so I just sat down next to her on the floor. I pulled a dish towel off the oven door handle and handed it to her. We just sat there for a minute, while she wiped her tears in the dish towel.
“I think I know what it is,” I said at last. “You’re homesick. Boy, do I know how that feels. My school had a sleepover at the beach for one night. Don’t tell anyone, but I spent the whole night crying into my sleeping bag.”
“That’s not it,” Judith Ann said. “I’m not homesick. I’m scared.”
I looked around our kitchen to see what was so scary. I didn’t see anything except regular kitchen stuff.
“Are you scared of the refrigerator?” I asked. “It’s tall, but it doesn’t bite.”
“You don’t understand how much I need to win this contest,” Judith Ann said. “I told everyone at my school I was going to win. I even told my principal, Mrs. Denney! And I’m afraid I might not. That’s what I’m scared of.”
“Look at it this way, Judy. You’re going to come in first or second. Either way, that’s not bad.”
“I need to come in first.”
“Why? What’s the big deal?”
“I’m going to tell you a secret, Hank. Cooking is the only thing I’m really good at.”
“But you’re so smart and confident and everything,” I told her. “It seems like you can do anything.”
“I’m terrible in school,” she said. “Reading is really hard for me, and I can’t spell either.”
“Welcome to the club,” I almost shouted. “When my teacher tells me to sound out a word, I have no idea what she’s talking about. The only sound I hear is my brain skidding to a stop.”
I stuck my hand out to shake hers, but she didn’t take it.
“My parents are always telling me that if I just try harder, I’ll get it,” she said in a voice that sounded really sad. “But no matter how hard I try, I still get bad grades. When I discovered cooking, it was the first time I felt
like I was really good at something. I’ve won every contest I’ve been in, but this is the big one. If I win, it would make my parents so proud.”
“I’ve been trying to make my dad proud since I was a baby,” I said. “And I always come up a little short—which stinks, because I am short to begin with.”
Judith Ann actually laughed a little. That made me feel better for her, until I realized that my “lunch in a glass” was going to be a big problem for her. Way down deep, I knew it was a winner.
“Listen, Judith Ann,” I said, getting up. “Why don’t you just relax and have a sandwich with us? You don’t need to practice. You’re already a great cook.”
“I wish I could be relaxed like you,” she said. “But I have to make the recipe one more time. Just to be extra sure. You go have a sandwich. I’m going to stay here.”
As I walked back through the swinging door into the dining room, I thought about Judith Ann. Papa Pete always says, “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” I never understood until now. On the outside, Judith Ann acted like she was the queen of the world. But on the inside, she was just like me—all shaky, like a bowl of Jell-O.
“There he is,” Papa Pete said as I took a seat at the table. “One pastrami sandwich, and one dill pickle, coming right up.”
“You forgot to bring the mustard,” Emily pointed out.
“Hank would forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his neck,” my dad said with a snort.
“You’re going to do so well tomorrow, honey,” my mom said. She always tries to say something nice after my dad says something mean.
“He’s going to knock their socks off,” Papa Pete said. “And make me a promise, Hankie. When they pick you to be on Country Cooking for the City, you be sure to make me your assistant. Everyone on television has an assistant. Boy oh boy, the guys on my bowling team are going to be so impressed. I’ll have to give autographs at the bowling alley.”
Papa Pete let out one of his big laughs. I could tell he loved the idea of being on TV.
So did I.
But the problem was, so did Judith Ann.
“Is this the TV station?” I asked my mom the next morning as we turned into a revolving door in a big glass building.
“This is the address they gave me,” my mom said.
My mom, dad, and Papa Pete were there, along with Frankie and Ashley, and of course, Judith Ann. All of us walked into the huge lobby with big couches and hundreds of TV screens all over the walls. The guard took us to the elevators.
“What floor?” my dad asked.
“Thirty-five,” the guard answered, pushing the button. “That’s where it all happens.”
And boy was he right. When the doors opened, we stepped out and immediately found ourselves smack in the middle of the Country Cooking for the City set.
“Wow,” said Papa Pete. “It looks so much bigger on TV.”
“Dude,” Frankie whispered to me. “This is awesome.”
“Hank, look!” Ashley said. “There’s the kitchen where the chefs work. And there are the cameras. Aren’t you nervous?”
I wasn’t nervous. I was proud to be there. I was proud that my friends and family would be there to see me win.
“This could be the best day of my life,” I told Frankie. “It ranks right up there with that time Dad and I won the three-legged race at the Root Beer Bust at school. Remember that, Dad?”
“I remember I ripped my pants and had to spend fourteen dollars to get them fixed,” he answered.
“Oh my gosh,” Ashley said, grabbing my arm. “OH MY GOSH. Look who’s coming to get us.”
Walking across the studio to us was Chuck Hall, the host of Country Cooking for the City. He was tall, with a huge head of blond hair, and teeth as white as marshmallows. When she saw him, Judith Ann actually let out a shriek. She stepped forward and stuck out her hand.
“What an honor to meet you,” she said to Chuck. “I’ve never missed one of your shows.”
Chuck smiled. I could tell he was expecting the rest of us to chime in, too. To be honest, I had never seen one of his shows, but I knew better than to say that out loud.
“So,” Chuck said to Judith Ann, “I assume you’re one of my finalists. Who’s the other one?”
“He’s your guy,” Frankie told Chuck, pointing to me. “Hank Zipzer.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Zipper,” Chuck said with a marshmallow grin.
“It’s Zipzer,” I said. “And by the way, do you know what has a hundred and thirty-seven teeth and no cavities? A zipper!”
Everyone laughed but Chuck.
“If you don’t mind, son, I’ll do the jokes,” he said. “Now follow me, and we’ll get you kids set up.”
My family and friends got to sit in the audience seats. Judith Ann and I were led over to the kitchen counter, which was in front of the cameras. Ms. Smiley was there, setting up the kitchen tools on the counter.
“I have your blender, young man,” she said.
“Thank you, Ms. S.,” I said. I would have called her Ms. Smiley, but I was afraid that Smelly would come out of my mouth by accident.
“And Judith Ann,” she went on, “I have your mixing bowls and skillet. Both of you may begin placing your food supplies on the counter.”
I reached into my paper bag and took out the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the cookies, the milk, and the banana. Way down at the bottom I was surprised to see a pickle and half of a pastrami sandwich in a plastic bag. I knew Papa Pete had snuck that in, in case I got hungry. That’s what I love about Papa Pete.
“Are we going to be on TV?” I asked Chuck’s assistant, who was walking by with a clipboard.
“The winner of this match is,” she said, without looking up.
“Cool. What does the loser get?”
“A hearty handshake,” she said with a laugh.
I didn’t think that was funny at all.
All of a sudden, the lights in the studio went down, and two bright lights lit Judith Ann and me up. Chuck walked out and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, please help me welcome our two finalists for the title of Junior Chef Champion.”
There were seven people in the audience. Six were my family and friends, and one was the guard who brought us up in the elevator. But when they all clapped for us, it sounded like there were at least ten people.
Chuck looked over at us and spoke in almost a whisper.
“This is your big moment, kids. Are you ready?”
I nodded. Judith Ann gulped. I wished I could have given her some of my confidence.
“Then it’s showtime,” Chuck said, in his big show-business voice.
And just like that, the contest was on.
We had exactly forty-five minutes to complete our dishes. Judith Ann got right to work. As she chopped her vegetables, I could see sweat forming on her forehead.
“Maybe you should take it easy on that poor little eggplant,” I whispered to her. “I thought I just heard it screaming.”
“This is no time for jokes,” she said. “As I told you, this means everything to me.”
I hadn’t forgotten that. I was just trying to help her relax.
I knew it wasn’t going to take the whole time to make my Peanut Butter and Jelly Smoothie with Surprise Ingredients. But I wanted to look busy, so I took my time tearing the peanut butter and jelly sandwich into bite-size bits. That took about ten seconds, so I tried to go even slower with the banana. After I peeled it one tiny section at a time, I waved to Frankie and Ashley sitting in the audience. They waved back with big smiles.
Judith Ann had finished the vegetables and was rolling them into three plump meatless meatballs.
“Look at you go, Judy,” I said. “Those meatballs look really round.”
She glanced up at me like she was going to say something. Just then, one of the
meatballs she was working on rolled out of her hand and onto the floor.
“Oh no!” she screamed. “Look what you made me do!”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen. Honest.”
“I know, Hank. It wasn’t your fault. I’m just so nervous.”
I turned back to my blender and started to crumble the cookies into the jar. Judith Ann put her two meatballs into the frying pan and rolled them around with a wooden spoon. Suddenly, I heard her shout.
“Oh no! What is wrong with me today?” she said. “My meatball is crumbling.”
I looked over into her frying pan and saw that one of the meatballs had come apart. It looked like a vegetable pancake.
“I am such a loser,” she went on, sounding like she was going to cry. “I practice and I practice, and I can’t do anything right.”
“Hey, do I ever know that feeling,” I said. “I practice my spelling words all night long, and when I get to class, I have no idea where they are. They’re sure not in my head.”
“I wish I were making your Peanut Butter and Jelly Smoothie,” she said. “It seems so easy.”
She definitely had a point. She was chopping and rolling and frying and doing all kinds of complicated cooking stuff. All I was doing was filling a blender and flipping a switch.
As I reached into my bag to get the carton of chocolate milk, I smelled the pickle at the bottom. I looked over at Judith Ann. She was concentrating very hard on her last meatball, rolling it around to make sure it was fully cooked.
It was then that I knew what I had to do.
I reached into my bag and pulled out Papa Pete’s dill pickle. When no one was watching, I dropped it into the blender and put on the top. Then I flipped the switch.
I smiled to myself. Hank’s Peanut Butter and Jelly Smoothie with Surprise Ingredients was sure going to have one big surprise ingredient now.
By the time the forty-five minutes were up, I had poured my smoothie into a glass and decorated it with the gummy bears I brought with me in my pocket. Then I popped in a red-and-white-striped straw. Judith Ann had placed her one lonely meatball on top of the pancake one, and dripped some red sauce over both of them. It actually looked pretty good. She had turned her mistake into her own surprise.
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