Inspirational Stories for the Young Reader. Bettina DiGiulio
Brian. C’mon Brian, you’re a good swimmer! Why aren’t you coming up? He must have bumped his head. At that thought, he dived into the quarry and soon was struggling to grab Brian’s arms in the water. He quickly gripped a wrist and pulled him up to the surface. Swimming and panting over to the bank, the two rested there, then gripped the rock wall, and climbed up out of the water.
Coughing and catching their breaths, they sat without talking, unable to look at each other. Then their eyes met, and they suddenly broke into laughter. Francesco took the fossil from his pocket and handed it to Brian. After staring at it a few seconds, Brian handed it back, saying, “Na, it’s yours. You found it.”
Francesco looked at the rock and said, “C’mon, let’s take it to class together. We’ll win that rock project.”
A shout from the road startled them. “Don’t you guys know there’s no swimming in the quarry?!” yelled Tamika.
Francesco grinned and yelled, “Buzz off!”
“Quit following us around!” Brian shouted.
The two boys headed home, agreeing on revising their rock project, and realizing their genuine treasure was with each other.
Cooking Camp Adventure
Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.
—Theodore Roosevelt
The first week of summer holiday was always a problem for me. Mom would make me join Sport’s Camp. This time, I put my foot down.
“I’m not joining sports camp this year! I’m tired of putting up with Eddie Flake and Rudy Pank. They boss me around and call me Pudgy.”
I wasn’t the fattest boy in camp; the coach’s son was much fatter than me—but no one picked on him. After I kicked up such a fuss about it, Mom decided to sign me up at Sports Nutrition Cooking Camp at the community college in town.
“It teaches about cooking healthy food,” she told me.
Healthy food? Yuck! Just thinking about celery and brown bread made me want to throw up.
“Hey Mom, I want to join too,” my brother interrupted.
That was going to be a problem, because I hated my brother hanging around me!
“Hey Mattie, you’ll lose some of your belly fat.” My brother was always on my case about losing weight. He always snitched on me when I sneaked some Oreo cookies from the cookie jar.
I couldn’t sleep that night for thinking about how I could get out of cooking class! I could pretend to get a stomachache every morning—but mom always knows when I was faking it. Then I figured cooking school would be better than putting up with Eddie and Rudy. Maybe I should just give it a try.
Suddenly I panicked. What would I do if Eli Klim found out I was going to cooking camp? I’d be the wimpiest kid in class. He’d tease me that it was “girlie”—he bullied everyone. One time he picked on me because I was eating a salami sandwich and he said I stunk like a sausage. I had a fight with my mom about never putting salami in my lunch again. I finally fell asleep.
In the morning, Mom handed us each an apron and said, “You’ll need to wear it.”
“Awww c’mon, Mom, I’m going to look stupid.” I got desperate and gave her two sad teary eyes, but it didn’t make a difference.
In the car, I tried to think of a way out of wearing that apron. I began to crumple it up and tried stuffing it in my pocket, but it wouldn’t fit. I’d just tell the teacher I forgot it. Maybe putting up with Eddie and Rudy was easier than cooking camp.
When I opened the classroom door, I saw a real kitchen with lots of sinks, cupboards, and stoves. Two huge wooden blocks with stools stood on each side of the room, where we worked. A big table set with placemats was at the back of the room. A large, shiny counter for the teacher was in the front.
Six girls and four boys entered. I felt lucky because none of them were from my school. Then this short, stout man walked in.
“Hello. I’m Chef Tino. I’m going to teach you all about nutritious food and how to cook it.” He wore a tall white hat and a white shirt and pants. I figured he had to be really brave teaching kids how to cook. Then he put us in groups. I was glad I wasn’t with my brother—that way he couldn’t snitch on me if I messed up—but I got stuck in a group with three girls. I knew I was headed for trouble. Then I thought that being the only boy in the group meant I could boss them around.
It took Chef Tino over an hour just to go over the rules—like putting long hair up when cooking, and not wearing open-toe shoes. He was thinking about the girls for those rules. He said, “We have to wash our hands before we touch the food and wash them again after we touch the food.” Cripes! I was going to be the only one of all my friends with clean-looking hands.
“Aprons must be worn,” he insisted. Now I was doomed! “These hats must be worn at all times while cooking! They are called a ‘toque.’ Be proud of them; they say you are an expert.” He handed us each a toque, just like his. Gosh! We all looked rather silly with them on.
“I’m going to keep a close watch on all of you to pick the Junior Chef for the week. The winner becomes my assistant chef. I’m looking for the student who does things the proper way—Chef Tino’s way,” he said. I glanced at my brother and saw a big smile on his face. I knew he was thinking he would be the winner.
“It’s time to start cooking! We are going to make an omelet today.”
I didn’t know why he picked an omelet. Eggs weren’t really one of my favorite foods. I thought hamburgers would have made a much better choice.
“Eggs contain lots of protein,” Chef added, as he held one up before us.
Who cares about protein? It’s cracking those eggs I was getting worried about! First, he made us wash our hands with soap, and then he gave us each two eggs.
“Tap them on the table,” he said, “then break them over the bowl. Be careful that pieces of the shells don’t fall into the bowl.”
As I looked around, I saw everyone, including my brother, trying to pick the little shell pieces out with a fork.
Lucy, one of the girls in my group, was telling me how I was doing it all wrong. Girls always think they know everything! At least I got mine to drop in the bowl—one of her eggs landed on the floor beside her feet. Chef Tino didn’t look very happy; he made her clean up the mess.
Golly, he didn’t even yell at her, but her face turned beet red. I judged her a little too quickly. I noticed it wasn’t so bad being in her group, just in case l did something stupid too.
Next, Chef Tino showed us how to chop these long, hollow, onion-flavored leaves called chives. “Chop them fine using a small knife on the cutting board, and then add them to the eggs,” Chef Tino ordered.
Just as he told us to be careful not to cut our fingers, Lucy let out a scream. Wow, blood was oozing out of her finger! Chef Tino ran to get the first aid kit. All the kids scrambled around our table to see what the commotion was about. This time Lucy was as pale as a ghost. By now Chef Tino didn’t seem too impressed with her; she was kind of giving him a hard time.
“Now, measure one tablespoon of water and add it to the mixture,” he continued. Gee, it’s really hard to measure one tablespoon without spilling it.
“Add some salt and pepper, and—gently—mix it all.”
Everyone was banging forks against the glass bowls. It was getting louder and louder ‘till finally Chef shouted “Stop!” The room became silent!
He handed us each a small frying pan and some butter to heat. “Be careful to keep your hands away from the burners,” he demanded.
Suddenly