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Authors: Diane Muldrow

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BOOK: Boiling Point
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This was the fun part. “Well. here’s everything,” said Amanda. “Cupcakes with chocolate icing and sprinkles—”
“Look, Morgan, they’re for you, my precious! Don’t they look
yummy?”
Morgan didn’t say anything. She just stared at the friends with her round dark eyes.
“And here’s the chicken with fresh herbs,” Amanda went on. “Just bake it at three hundred seventy-five degrees for about forty-five minutes. Here’s the salad... plum cobbler...and roasted potatoes. Just reheat the potatoes a little bit. Okay?”
“Wonderful!” said Ms. Barlow, peeking into all the containers. “It all looks
delicious!
Thank you
very
much!” She gave them a big smile.
Aren’t you going to pay us?
thought Amanda.
“We need to get going,” she hinted. “We have another job to deliver.”
Get it, lady? J-O-B?
“Oh, yes!” said Ms. Barlow, going to her purse. “Let me just check my pocketbook...Oh,
dear.
I
currently
have
no
cash!”
Amanda, Justin, and Natasha stared at her. Then they smiled weakly.
“Why don’t you come back tomorrow, Amanda, I’ll pay you then,” said Ms. Barlow. “Thanks so much. I’ll show you out. Thanks
again.
Bye-bye!”
The kids walked back to the car.
“I can’t believe she didn’t pay us!” exclaimed Natasha.
“ ‘Come back tomorrow, Amanda,’ ” said Amanda, imitating Ms. Barlow’s high-pitched voice. “Why should I go back to
her?
Why can’t she come to
me?”
“‘Cause you’re a kid, that’s why,” said Justin, opening the car door. “It’s not fair, but that’s always the way it is.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Mr. McElroy, noticing their upset expressions.
“She didn’t pay us!” said Justin.
“I’m really sorry, Justin.” said Amanda. “I’m so embarrassed. I’ll pay you so you don’t have to wait. You, too, Natasha.”
“No big,” said Justin as Mr. McElroy headed toward the Jamisons’ house. “I snarfed down two of those cupcakes earlier. Consider me paid!”
What!
thought Amanda.
Oh, no! I hope there’s enough. What if Ms. Barlow notices?
“Right”, added Natasha. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I’m sure she’ll have the money tomorrow,” Mr. McElroy assured Amanda. “Maybe she got too busy to go to the bank machine. It’s probably an honest mistake.”
“Yeah. she was too busy—getting her nails painted!” snickered Justin. That made everyone laugh, but it didn’t really make Amanda feel better. She just felt like a dumb, ripped-off kid.
“Well, at least Mrs. Jamison paid us,” said Amanda a little later.
“And
tipped us.” Amanda was counting the money as she, Justin, and Natasha walked back to the car. “Here you go, Natasha, and here you go, Justin.”
“Hey, this is too much,” said Natasha. “This doesn’t leave you with anything. Here, take some money back. You can give us the rest after Brenda Barlow pays you. Really, Amanda—it’s okay.”
“Yeah, we’ll wait for Ms. Brenda
Tightwad
to pay you,” said Justin with a laugh, handing her back some money.
“Okay,” said Amanda, grateful that both Justin and Natasha were trying to make her feel better.
Mr. McElroy dropped off Natasha, then drove towards Amanda’s house.
Justin didn’t say much after that, though he’d been pretty chatty while Natasha had been in the car.
Amanda had run out of things to say.
Mr. McElroy cleared his throat a few times.
Amanda was never so glad to see her house.
“Thanks a lot, Mr. McElroy,” she said as he pulled up in front of the Moore’s house.
“You’re welcome, Amanda. Glad I could help.”
“Well. thanks, Justin,” said Amanda. “I hope you had fun, anyway.”
“I did! I’ll see ya later,” said Justin.
Amanda gave a little wave and shut the car door.
As she walked up the steps, she saw Molly waiting for her at the front door.
“Hi,” said Amanda.
“Look at this e-mail from Shawn!” exclaimed Molly, thrusting a printout at Amanda.
“You’re not grounded from the computer anymore?”
“I guess not. I helped Mom weed the garden after you left, and she said I could check our e-mail.”
Amanda took the paper from Molly and read:
You know where to find me if you decide you ever want to get in touch with me.
Shawn
“That’s just great,” said Amanda, looking up at Molly. “Shawn’s mad at us.”
“I can’t blame her,” said Molly with a sigh. “We have to write her back fast!”
Amanda sighed.
“So, how did it go, anyway?” said Molly.
“Ms. Brenda
Broke
didn’t pay us.”
“What!”
“Yeah, she’s broke! She didn’t have any cash! ‘Why don’t you come back tomorrow, Amanda?’ ” said Amanda, imitating Ms. Barlow again. She and Molly walked down the hallway and through the kitchen, out to the garden.
“Hi, honey!” called Mr. and Mrs. Moore as Amanda came out to join them and Matthew. They were relaxing before dinner.
“Hi.”
“How are you, sweetie?” asked Mr. Moore. He was lying on the chaise lounge.
Matthew barely looked up. He was too busy making Kitty wear Mom’s big sunglasses. As usual, Kitty was putting up with it.
“You look tired, punkin,” said Mrs. Moore soothingly. She smiled her understanding “Mom” smile.
That’s what did it.
“Punkin.”
And the sound of Mom’s gentle voice.
Mom and Dad and Matthew looked so relaxed and happy, and Amanda suddenly felt so tired and hungry and mad, that she began to sniffle, then really cry. Standing up, in front of everyone.
Amanda glanced at Molly, who was looking at her pityingly. That made Amanda cry harder.
“Amanda, honey, did you have lunch?” asked Mom, suddenly worried. She quickly handed Amanda a cracker with some cheese on it.
“No. And I’ve been running around and finding people to help us and m-making sure everything’s o-k-kay for Dish and Justin and Natasha got along better than Justin and I did and we had to do so much today and Shawn is, like, so mad at us now and—and—
Brenda Barlow
didn’t even
pay
us!” She began to cry again, in between gobbling down the cracker.
“Didn’t pay you!” thundered Dad.
“What!” cried Mom.
“She told Amanda to come back tomorrow,” Molly explained.
“She should have paid you upon delivery of all the food!” exclaimed Mom.
Well, duh,
thought Molly.
Everybody knows that. Even Brenda Barlow.
“Ms. Brenda Butthead is more like it,” Matthew giggled.
“Save it, Matthew,” said Mom. She patted her chair. “Sit down, sweetie,” she told Amanda. “We’re going to make dinner right now. Have another cracker.” She hurried into the kitchen.
Amanda felt a little better after she’d had about twelve crackers with cheese.
She sat at the big picnic table in the backyard with Matthew and watched Mom, Dad, and Molly bring out dinner.
Dad’s blue eyes twinkled as he set down a platter of tuna, fresh off the grill.
“You’ve finally reached the boiling point!” he told Amanda. “Get it? Boiling point? You’re cooks—?”
The twins rolled their eyes and giggled.
“Yeah. I get it, Dad,” said Amanda. She smiled at him. Dad could be so corny sometimes, but she knew he was just trying to make her feel better.
“It’s not easy being a working girl, is it?” he asked Amanda.
“No, I guess it isn’t.” She was still sniffling a little.
“You’re not just a working girl: you’re a business owner,” stated Mom as she set down a plate of corn on the cob. “Even adults find it difficult to run their own businesses.”
Dad poured iced tea into tall glasses for Mom and himself. “You’ve done so well today, sweetie,” he said.
“You sure have!” exclaimed Mom. “Think about it—you took the calls and accepted the jobs. You dealt with a demanding and difficult customer who changed the dates on you. You worked out a strategy for cooking food for two jobs. You hired two cooks, bought the supplies, and then had to handle this lady who didn’t pay you.
BOOK: Boiling Point
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