“Sit down, kids,” Daddy says. “We can still have a good dinner. Plus, thanks to Sassy, my boom box works, and we can have music as well as candlelight for our dinner.”
“Daddy’s music is like listening to the greatest hits of three centuries ago,” Sadora teases.
“What are we gonna eat, Mom?” Sabin asks.
“I guess we’ll just have sandwiches.” Mom turns to me. “Sassy, we’re going to need some of the lunch meat we bought for your party. We’ll get some more before Saturday. Don’t worry.”
There is nothing I can do, so Mom makes sandwiches from my turkey and cheese. At least she doesn’t use my cool cookie cutters. Our meal is just ordinary. Except it’s in the dark. And it’s using my special food. And Daddy’s old-fashioned, battery-operated boom box is playing softly in the background.
At least my pie and my Sparkle Sickles are safe. But then I think: The refrigerator is off! My recipes are going to melt!
What a disaster!
“Mom!” I screech. “What about my creations in the freezer?”
“For your party? What did you make?” Sadora asks.
“Sassy’s Red Frozen Sparkle Sickles and Sassy’s Orange Supreme Frozen Pie!” I tell her.
“You named them?” She shakes her head in wonder.
“Well, yeah! I created a name for every single one of my recipes. And those two are melting!”
“Calm down, Sassy,” Daddy says. “The refrigerator will stay cold for several hours. Your special desserts won’t melt for awhile.”
“But what if the lights don’t come back on soon? At Grammy’s house it took a couple of days!”
“This is just a thunderstorm,” Mom says in a soothing voice. “The power will be restored by morning. Trust me.”
She was right.
The next morning the lights are blazing and I hear the sound of the blow dryer in the bathroom.
I get up and start to get dressed for school. Boring blue-and-white uniform once more.
But then I stop and think. What should I wear for my dazzling dinner party? Something dazzling, of course!
I check my closet. Let’s see. The first thing I find is a pink sun visor that Grammy sent me a couple of months ago. It is decorated with silver sparkles. I love it! It’s just so very Sassy! Grammy knows what I like. But I decide not to wear it for the party. I think it will be better for a picnic.
Hmm. I see a blue-striped shirt I haven’t worn in a long time. I try it on. Perfect! And it’s got silver sparkles all over the front. Even better. I pull a silver belt from my Sassy Sack. It adds just the right touch.
Hot-pink capri pants. Blue socks. White tennis shoes. I set my outfit aside and place it carefully in my top drawer. Zero has a reputation for gobbling socks. I have to be careful.
Then I hurry to get on my un-sparkly uniform and get downstairs for breakfast.
“Are my desserts okay?” I ask Mom before I even say good morning.
“Yes, Sassy. They are fine. The power came back on around midnight. But I think you forgot something.”
“What?” I ask.
“Aren’t your Sparkle Sickles supposed to be something like Popsicles?”
“Yes.”
“I think you forgot to add the Popsicle sticks!” she says.
“Oh, no!” I put my hand to my mouth. “What should I do, Mom?”
“It’s not the end of the world, Sassy,” Mom says calmly. “When you get home from school, take them out for an hour or so. When they start to melt a little, insert your sticks and then pop them back in the freezer.”
“Are you sure that will work?” I ask.
“Great chefs always have secrets,” she tells me with a wink.
I feel better. A little. There is so much to remember. And the time for the party is getting closer.
It’s hard to sit through school because I’m so excited. I keep checking my list and thinking about recipes, not our social studies chapter on Peru.
Just before the bell rings to go home, Lillian asks me softly, “How many people are coming to the party, Sassy?”
“Fifteen, including you,” I tell her. “I’m so glad you’re coming.”
She smiles brightly. It is not her usual sad smile. “I hope to have a surprise for everybody on Saturday,” she tells me.
“Awesome! What is it?”
“It’s a secret. I think it’s pretty cool. That’s all I can say right now.”
We head out the door together. Lillian walks to her limo. I climb onto my school bus. We wave good-bye.
Mom takes me to school each morning, but I take the bus home. Jasmine and I always sit together.
“I wonder what Lillian’s surprise is,” I ask Jasmine as I sit down next to her.
“If you knew, it wouldn’t be a surprise, right?” Jasmine says.
“I suppose.”
“Do you have any gum?” Jasmine asks.
“Do you even have to ask?” I reply. “What flavor?”
“Tutti-frutti!” she says.
I dig down into my sack and pull out a pack of fruit gum and a pack of double-bubble berry gum as well. Jasmine takes a piece of each and stuffs both in her mouth.
But the gum just makes me think about my berry recipes and the purple milk shakes I’m planning. My head is stuffed with food!
I can’t believe the party is tomorrow! I have worked every night this week, making dishes and making plans.
Tuesday after school I practiced making strawberry mice. Mom was right. Strawberries get icky and squishy very fast. And the red raspberries I bought turned black! With white mold growing all over them. I had to throw them away. I hate that.
Wednesday I worked a little on my menus. I will hand them out to people when they get here.
Thursday I helped Mom clean up. I hid Sabin’s shoes, which are always in the middle of the floor. I ran the vacuum. I dusted the furniture. I don’t think fourth-grade kids care if the coffee table is dusty. But Mom cares, so I do my very best.
Jasmine is sleeping over tonight. We have lots to do.
“What’s first?” Jasmine says with excitement. We are both wearing jeans and old T-shirts. It always feels good to take off that uniform.
“Let’s see,” I reply. “When kids get here, we will give them recipes to prepare.”
“That’s going to be fun,” Jasmine says.
“And messy!” I laugh as I pull my list from my sack. “Okay. Tandy, Iris, and Basima will make Sassy’s Dazzling Banana Chocolate Sprinkle Delight.”
“How about on this side of the kitchen counter?” Jasmine suggests.
“Great idea. Over there we will put the bananas, the chocolate topping, and the sprinkles and stuff.”
“Ooey, gooey!” Jasmine says, and gets the ingredients and places them in that corner.
“Then Carmelita, Misty, Holly, and Josephina can make Sassy’s Technicolor Fruit on a Stick on the other end of the counter.”
“I think it’s so cool that you have named everything, Sassy,” Jasmine says. “What will the boys make?”
“I think I want them to make the milk shakes,” I tell her. “What can go wrong?”
“Don’t ask!”
“No disasters allowed!” We both laugh. Then I ask her, “Do you think you and Lillian can make the strawberry mice? I don’t want them to get messed up.”
“Oh, yes! That will be super!” Jasmine exclaims.
“I want her to have a good time. I don’t think she gets to go to many parties,” I say.
“You are probably right.” Then Jasmine asks, “Who will make the sandwiches?”
“The bread and lunch meat and cheese will be on the kitchen table. With the cool cookie cutters. And ketchup and mustard and other fixings. Each person makes his or her own.”
“So what do we do now?” Jasmine asks.
I take a deep breath. “The most elegant and special item on the menu,” I reply with excitement. “Sassy’s Amazing Kaleidoscope No-Bake Fruit Pizza.”
; “What’s a kaleidoscope?” Jasmine asks.
“It’s still one of my favorite toys from when I was little,” I explain. “It’s a long tube. When you look through it, you can see stones and sparkles. Every time you move the dial, you get another beautiful design.”
“Sounds like a real Sassy toy,” she says.
“You want to see it?” I ask her.
“Yeah!”
I reach for my sack and push my hand down to the very bottom. I feel it with my fingers. I pull it out. “My kaleidoscope,” I say simply.
Jasmine takes it and holds it up to the light. “Wow!”
“Turn the dial.”
“Even better. Awesome! It’s like diamonds and jewels and magic!”
“It’s always a different design. It’s never the same and I never get tired of looking at it.”
“I can see why,” she says as she hands it back to me.
“That’s why I named this pizza after my kaleidoscope. It’s going to be amazing.”
“Well, let’s get started,” Jasmine says. Her eyes are glowing. She knows what a big deal this one is.
I get out the pizza pan, the cream cheese, and all the fruit. Mom bought more fruit. She didn’t even say, “I told you so.”
“Start slicing the fruit,” I tell Jasmine. “You don’t need a sharp knife.”
“Into chunks?” Jasmine asks.
“Try thin slices. Think of it as fruit pepperoni.”
“Gotcha!”
I mix a little apricot jam with water. “This will stop the fruit from turning brown,” I tell Jasmine.
“How do you know all this stuff?” she asks.
“Mom told me about how to save the fruit. But I invented the recipe myself. After doing lots of research on the Internet.”
“I guess that’s what Miss Armstrong wanted us to do,” she says.
She slices the strawberries and combines them with the blueberries and raspberries and blackberries. Her fingers are covered with berry slime.
I help her as I slice the bananas and kiwi and peaches, and open the can of pineapple chunks. Then I cover the fruit with the jam-and-water mixture.
“What’s next?” she asks.
I wash my hands at the kitchen sink. “We mix the graham cracker crumbs with the cream cheese and butter. With our hands!”
“Let’s do it!”
We mix the stuff together. The cream cheese gets under my fingernails. We spread it on the pan.
“It looks like a real pizza crust!” Jasmine says with surprise. “What is the next layer?”
“Apple jelly!”
“Sweet!”
We spread the jelly over the whole thing, then add a layer of Cool Whip. Mom comes into the kitchen.
“How’s it going, girls?”
“We’re on it, Mom!”
“Let me have your camera, Sassy,” she says. “You really need a picture of this!”
“It’s in my sack. On the right-hand side, in the outside pocket,” I tell her. My hands are still covered with sweet stuff.
Mom finds the camera and snaps several photos. In one picture Jasmine and I have both our hands covered with Cool Whip. Then Mom takes a snapshot of the mountain of fruit we have sliced.
“You two are doing a great job,” Mom says. She leaves us in the kitchen.
“Okay, time to place the fruit,” I tell Jasmine. Very carefully, we make a circle of berries and bananas and kiwi and peaches and canned pineapple chunks. Each fruit gets its own circle.
When we finish, it really does look a little like a kaleidoscope. I feel very proud. We snap several photos.
“What do with we do with all this leftover fruit and ingredients?” Jasmine asks.
“You know what? I think we should make another one!”
“You’re right, so that each person gets a taste.”
So we take all the leftovers and do it again. The second fruit pizza is a little lopsided. And not quite as pretty as the first one. But at least we will have enough for everyone.
I take one more picture. We place both of the fruit pizzas in the refrigerator.
We clear the table, wipe it off, and wash the dishes.
“This is really hard work!” Jasmine says as she mops her forehead.
“I never thought about how hard it is to be a mom,” I tell her. “She has to do stuff like this every day.”
“Yep. I’m glad I’m a kid.”
We stop and sip from a couple of juice boxes.
“Let’s print out these menus and get to bed,” I suggest.
“I’m with you!” Jasmine agrees.
We head to the family room. Mom is reading a book. Daddy is asleep in his big chair. Sabin is outside shooting hoops by the garage door. Sadora is at school. I think she has play practice.
“Can we use more of that purple paper?” I ask Mom. “I just need to print out my menus.”
“Sure,” Mom says. She loads the machine with the lavender paper. I find my menu and click on it. Then I hit PRINT.
The first one rolls from the machine. At the top it reads, Sassy’s Dazzling Dinner Party. Everything I am serving is listed neatly. It’s like a menu in a restaurant.
Jasmine looks at it. “This looks great, Sassy. But if you are going to ask kids to make some of the food, you need to tell them what to do.”
“You’re right!” I tell her. “I need to print out my recipes, too! I’m so glad you’re here, Jasmine.”
“Be sure to write down the names of each kid next to the meal he or she will prepare,” she reminds me.
“Another great idea!”
I print out fifteen menus. Then I print out fifteen copies of the recipes. I include the names of kids. That one takes two pages. At the top, the words say, Sassy’s Delicious and Delightful Recipes.
“We’re using up all your mom’s purple ink,” Jasmine notices.
“Print what you need to, girls,” Mom says. “But don’t overdo it.”
“Okay, Mom,” I tell her.
We place the recipes and menus neatly on the family room table.
“Should we decorate them?” Jasmine asks.
“Glitter ink!” I reply with glee. “And stickers!” I reach down into my Sassy Sack and pull out a handful of glitter pens and a small booklet of shiny stickers. I give the pink and silver pens to Jasmine. I keep the purple and gold ones. We share the sticker book.
We add glossy flowers and fruit and star stickers to each menu, then color around each one with the glitter pens. Then we decorate each copy of the recipes with more metallic stickers and glittery decorations. The result is glorious!
I check the kitchen once more before we go to bed. The purple paper plates and pink napkins are stacked neatly in one corner. Two huge rolls of paper towels wait to clean up any messes. Ingredients and bowls wait to be used.
The kids will start arriving at three o’clock tomorrow. Everything should be over by six.
We are ready.
I wake up Saturday morning feeling giddy and happy. I see sunshine outside my window. No rain today. Good.
Jasmine, waking up in the other twin bed, looks at me and grins. “Today is the day!” she says. She sits up. Her hair is a mess.
“Let’s get dressed!” I suggest. I am shivering with excitement.
My hair is a bigger mess that Jasmine’s. While she is in the bathroom, I try my best to tame my tangles. I use a brush and a comb and lots of hair gel. It’s still pretty wild.
I slip on my blue-striped sparkly shirt and pink capris. The silver belt is perfect. It highlights my shirt and I like the way I look in the mirror. I sling my purple sparkly sack over my shoulder. Perfect!
Jasmine is wearing mostly lavender today. She has purple plaid shorts and a pale pink T-shirt. She looks great, except she’s barefoot.
“I can’t find my socks!” she says. “I have brand-new purple socks. My mom bought them the other day.”
We look under the bed and in the closet. The socks are gone.
I hav
e a terrible thought. I open my bedroom door and yell into the hall, “Sabin! Where is your dog?”
Sabin doesn’t answer, but Zero trots into my room. His tongue is purple. In his mouth are shreds of a purple sock.
“Your dog ate my socks?” Jasmine asks, amazed. “I don’t believe it!”
“He’s Sabin’s dog. But I should have warned you about the socks. That dog is nutso!”
I chase Zero out of my room. He wags his tail as if nothing bad has happened. I am trying not to get upset. There is too much to do today.
I give Jasmine a pair of my own socks. They are white with little purple decorations on the top.
“I guess I better put them on quickly,” she says. “I’ve never seen a dog that eats clothes!”
We head downstairs for breakfast. Sabin is sitting at the kitchen table, eating a banana dipped in chocolate. He has dripped chocolate on the floor.
“Sabin! What are you doing?” I cry out.
“Testing your recipe!” he says. “This chocolate and banana stuff is dynamite.”
“You’re not supposed to eat my special food ahead of time!” I wail. “It’s for my guests!”
“Relax, Sassy,” he says. “You’ve got plenty left.” He points to a huge pile of bananas on the counter. “Mom and I went to the store early this morning to get more stuff for your party.”
“You did?”
“Yep!”
“You got up early on a Saturday?”
“Yep.” He finishes his banana.
I decide not to yell at him about Zero eating Jasmine’s socks.
We eat a quick breakfast of cold cereal and hot chocolate, then go outside to snap pictures of each other in our cute outfits.
When we come back in, Jasmine and I go into the family room. Every single one of my recipe sheets and menus are on the floor. They are ripped and chewed. They are torn. Muddy paw prints cover most of them.
“Sabin!” I scream once more. “Look what your dog has done!”
“Oh, snap. My bad.” Sabin rushes in to pick up the tattered purple papers.
“They’re ruined!” I am trying not to cry.
“Let’s print some more, Sassy,” Jasmine says gently. “Look, the purple paper is still loaded in the machine.”