Free What Every Girl (except me) Knows by Nora Raleigh Baskin Page A

Lynette could be singing a nursery rhyme. Peter and Booby were flicking egg whites all over each other while Kevin was getting ready to put their baked Alaska in the oven. Mrs. Drummond left them and headed over to unit number five. There, everything seemed to be under control. Mrs. Drummond was smiling again.
    “Three tablespoons of butter and seven-eighths of a cup of milk,” Lynette said again.
    We had already started to cook the Minute Rice and milk and added the raisins before I had the heart to tell my group about the missing cream.
    “I brought the rice,” Amber ranted. “ And I brought the eggs!”
    Amber was stirring the mixture of vanilla, sugar, and eggs sans heavy cream. “This is for our final grade.”
    “Your grade for sixth-grade rice pudding should not really be the most crucial moment in your life,” I said. Still, I felt terrible, and I had already checked everyone else’s supplies. No one had heavy cream.
    We could hear Mrs. Drummond praising unit five on their strawberry shortcake.
    “Three tablespoons of butter and seven-eighths of a cup of milk,” Lynette said.
    “Will you stop saying that!” Amber turned to Lynette.
    “What?” I said, trying to remember what I had just heard but hadn’t listened to. “What did she say?”
    “Something about butter,” Amber said curtly.
    “Three tablespoons of butter and seven-eighths of a cup of milk is the same as one cup of heavy cream,” Lynette repeated.
    Amber raised the heat on the rice and milk. It bubbled slowly in loud plops. “Maybe it will just get thicker if I boil it. Get ready to add the egg stuff. Lynette, get those little saucers ready.”
    “Let’s try what Lynette says,” I said suddenly.
    The bottom of the milk and rice was starting to stick to the pan. A burning smell rose from the stove.
    “Oh, no,” Amber said and threw the pan off the burner. It sizzled. “What does Lynette know!? She was hit by a truck.”
    I was stricken, but Lynette didn’t seem bothered by the comment at all.
    “Three tablespoons of butter and seven-eighths of a cup of milk,” she said.
    “Well, I’m going to try it,” I told Amber.
    We already had the milk. I had to sneak over to borrow butter from Peter’s group while Mrs. Drummond was tasting group six’s ladyfingers.
    When I asked, Peter threw a stick of soft butter at me, and somehow I caught it before the butter hit the floor and smushed.
    “Good catch,” Peter said.
    “Thanks,” I called over my shoulder as I hurried back to my unit.
    Amber was so nearly comatose with worry that Lynette and I had to save the rice pudding by ourselves. We slipped the pan in the oven just as Mrs. Drummond came over and peaked into the viewing window. The rice pudding sat like miniature boats in a shallow pond. When she asked us how everything went we told the truth.
    “Oh, that is clever. A good cook always knows her substitutes.” She even clapped. “Amber, that must have been your idea. Am I right?”
    No one said anything. Lynette didn’t, so Amber sure didn’t. But Amber was biting her lip and looking worried. I kind of liked Amber then, like maybe she had a conscience but not enough of one to credit Lynette for her idea.
    Mrs. Drummond announced our rice pudding earned us all an A+, and she walked away.
    Amber finally spoke. “Thanks, Lynette.” She twisted a pot holder in her hands and looked down at the floor.
    Just as Lynette was going to say something, the bell rang to end the period. We finished up the dishes and got ready to leave. The rice pudding was safely in the refrigerator. I placed the last mixing bowl on the drying rack. Amber thanked Lynette again and left quickly. She still looked pretty shook up.
    “Amber didn’t mean what she said,” I told Lynette, but I didn’t want to look right at her. “About you not knowing anything.” I worked diligently on wiping the counter, but I could feel Lynette’s attention focus behind me.
    “I wasn’t hit by a truck, you