The Secret Cookie Club Read Free Page B

international trophy in violin, so even though the other boys only tapped on spoons from the dining hall, their band still won.
    Vivek was in Lasso Cabin. Of the three spoon players, he was the best. Now he was sitting two tables away with his parents, and I was carefully looking in the opposite direction.
    â€œAnd didn’t you girls make cookies?” Emma’s mom asked.
    â€œFrom my grandfather’s recipe,” Hannah said. “They were delicious. These daughters of yours can really bake.”
    â€œVivek was there too, and we sent some to his mom for her birthday,” Olivia said, looking at me. “Where is Vivek anyway? I want to talk to his mom. I want to know if she liked the cookies.”
    But before Olivia had a chance to look around, Buck, the head of camp, rang the cowbell to get everybody’s attention.
    â€œI just wanted to say a few words about what wonderful kids y’all have and what a pleasure it’s been . . .”
    You get the idea.
    We were pushing our chairs back when Hannah said, “Would you parents mind if I borrowed your daughters one last time? You’ll want to go out and open up your cars and get the AC going. Otherwise you’ll roast.”
    Since no cars are allowed in camp, parking is out beyond the fence. Now we Flowerpot girls gathered for the last time under the cottonwood by the front gate.
    Hannah’s eyes looked damp, but she spoke briskly. “Good-byes should be short and sweet. But I did want to give you each something.”
    From her day pack she pulled four small presents, eachwrapped in newspaper and rainbow ribbons, each marked with our own name.
    Olivia shook her head sadly. “Such a shame you couldn’t get real wrapping paper.”
    â€œNewspaper’s good because it’s recycled,” said Lucy.
    â€œLet’s open them, everybody!” said Emma.
    Inside were recipe boxes—a green one for Lucy, pink for Olivia, red for me, and blue for Emma. There were recipes inside, too—cookie recipes.
    â€œYour grandfather’s?” Emma asked.
    Hannah nodded, and by now a couple of tears had escaped her eyes. “There’s a baker’s dozen there, his thirteen all-time favorites.”
    â€œA dozen is twelve, Hannah,” said Lucy.
    â€œA baker’s dozen is thirteen,” Hannah explained, “and I am gonna miss you guys. Now, get out of here! Short and sweet, remember? But don’t forget me . . . and don’t forget each other!”
    To help me find it, my parents had told me their rental car was a red Ford. But it turned out so was everyone else’s—except Olivia’s family’s. The Baronshad a gold Porsche SUV that stood out by a mile as it drove past. The windows were tinted so I couldn’t see O, but I waved anyway. I was still looking for my parents when someone behind me called, “Grace! Hang on!”
    It was Vivek, and I felt myself turn bright red from embarrassment . . . and maybe happiness, a little. I turned around, and he was two feet away from me holding out a small brown paper sack stamped M OONLIGHT R ANCH T RADING P OST .
    â€œI bought these for you. I mean, not for you exactly. But they made a, uh . . . mistake and gave me these. And everyone likes them, so you must like them too. Here.”
    I took the sack, too surprised to look inside right away, and then my parents came up.
    â€œWho is this, Grace?” asked my father.
    I introduced Vivek, who smiled and held out his hand. “My parents—” He looked around, but the sound of a car horn drowned out his voice. It was Lucy’s mom honking as she drove by. Lucy didn’t wave. She was too busy gesturing to her mom: Please quiet down!
    Vivek and I locked eyes for about half a second. Then I said, “We have to go. Have a really great year.” And I pulled my parents away.
    *  *  *
    In the car, I stowed the sack in my