Chapter 4

Chapter four I couldn't believe that my father had said no. "But, Dad," I wailed. "It's a professional hockey game. And the season is almost over." "I'm sorry, Hank," he said. "Your cousin has come all the way from Chicago, and she is our guest. Tomorrow's the cook-off, and we are going to support her." Frankie left for his apartment, and the rest of us stood around watching Judith Ann take the meatballs out of the pot. "Would you like to taste one, Henry?" she asked me. "They're actually not bad," Ashley said through her full mouth. "A little squishy, but I

could get used to it." "No offense, Judith Ann," I said. "But I like meatballs that don't squish. You know, ones that leave little chunks of meat between your teeth for later." "After eating my meatballs, the only thing that will stay in your mouth is the delicious taste," Judith Ann said. "Little chunks left behind aren't part of the fine-food experience." I had heard enough from Judith Ann about fine food. My face turned red, and my mouth went out of control. "Listen," I said, "I know fifty ways to make a great peanut butter sandwich. So don't talk to me about fine food. My taste buds are as good as yours. Maybe even better."

"Peanut butter should never be let out of its jar," Judith Ann said. "It's a snack for threeyear- olds." My mom could tell that I was mad. "Okay, everyone," she said in her most cheery voice. "I think we should call it a night. We have to get up early tomorrow to get to the cook-off on time." "The cook-off sounds like fun. Can I go, too?" Ashley asked. "Of course," my mom said. "We'd love to have you, if it's okay with your parents." As if the night hadn't been bad enough, it got worse when my mom sprang some

surprising news on me: Judith Ann needed somewhere to sleep, and my mom had offered her my bed without even asking me. "But, Mom," I whined. "That's my bed. The mattress is shaped like my body. It looks forward to me every night." "I've set up your sleeping bag on the floor in Emily's room," my mom said. "It will be just like camping out." "Yeah, camping out next to a creature who doesn't like me and is going to hiss at me all night long. And I don't mean the iguana."

"Hank, it's only two nights," my mom said. "It will be fine." At that very moment, the kitchen door burst open, and Emily stuck her head in. "Mom!" she screamed. "You've got to come quickly. Katherine is spitting up a lettuce ball. It's all green and slimy." Okay, let me ask you a question. If you had to spend your Friday night cooking meatless meatballs, then sleep on the hard, cold floor of your know-it-all sister's room with a barfing iguana spitting lettuce balls at your face, how would you feel? Yup, that's the way I felt, too.

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