Chapter 5

Chapter five The Junior Chef Cook-Off was being held at the Manhattan Cooking Institute, which is a fancy school where people go to learn to be chefs. Since the school is closed on Saturdays, they let the junior chefs take over the school's huge kitchen for the competition. When we arrived, we were greeted at the door by a large, round woman wearing a white jacket and a hairnet. Her name was written in red above her pocket. "Hello, Ms. Smelly," I said, trying so hard to read her name. "Young man," she answered. "My name is Fern Smiley."

"I'm really glad," I said, "because that's so much better than Smelly." Ashley quickly covered her mouth, trying to keep in a laugh. I snickered, too. My mom put a firm hand on my shoulder, as if to say, That will be quite enough out of you. "My niece, Judith Ann Zipzer, is part of the cook-off," she said to Ms. Smiley, who by the way, wasn't smiling. "I've brought my ingredients with me," Judith Ann said. Ms. Smiley looked down at the suitcase Judith Ann was carrying. "Very good," she said. "I'm glad to see you've followed our directions." "Where should I go?" Judith Ann asked. Her voice sounded shaky, like she was nervous. That surprised me. The night before, she had acted so confident, like she was the queen of all cooks.

"What are you waiting for, Junior Chef Zipzer?" Ms. Smiley snapped. "The competition is due to begin in five minutes. Our kitchens run like hands on a clock, perfectly on time. Proceed to kitchen station number seven. Ticktock, young lady." Judith Ann picked up her suitcase, dashed across the large room to kitchen station number seven, and quickly started unpacking her vegetables. We followed her. "Junior chefs," Ms. Smiley called out. "Please look on your cutting boards for a printed sheet of our safety rules. You must read it and sign your name, to show that you understand and will follow the rules."

Judith Ann picked up the paper. She had a funny look on her face. "Henry," she said to me. "Remember, you're my assistant. You have to read me these rules." I picked up the sheet of paper. The words all floated around on the page, like fish swimming in the ocean. "I'm not that good at reading," I said to her. "You'll have to read this yourself." "I don't have time," Judith Ann snapped. "Can't you see I'm preparing my vegetables?" "I'll get Ashley to help," I said. "She's such a good reader, she could read this backward, standing on her head, with one eye closed." Ashley came over and read the rules while Judith Ann set up. "Fine," Judith Ann said. "I agree to everything. Who has a pen I can use?" I reached into my backpack to look for a pen, but all I found was my brown-paper-bag lunch. I pulled it out and handed it to Ashley.

"Hold this and don't eat my lunch," I warned her. "I made it myself." "And that's why I'd never touch it," Ashley said with a laugh. I found the pen at the bottom of the backpack and handed it to Judith Ann, who signed the paper. "Okay," she said, "now we're ready to begin." "We?" I asked. "Yes, Henry. You're my assistant." I sighed, handed Ashley my backpack and lunch bag, and took my place next to Judith Ann. I looked around the room. Eight mini- kitchens were set up. Each one had a stove, an oven, a counter for chopping, and a tiny sink. Stations one through six were already occupied by serious-looking kid chefs. They all looked nervous, but none of them as nervous as Judith Ann.

"Hank," she said, her voice sounding very scared, "when the bell rings for the cook-off to start, we have to be a perfect team. You wash. I chop. The end." I looked out into the audience and saw Ashley giving me a thumbs-up. I gave her one back. "Stop clowning around," I heard a stern voice say. "Our chefs are required to have a serious attitude about this competition." I spun around to see Ms. Smiley squinting at me over the top of her glasses. "Oh," I said. "I'm not one of the chefs. I'm just a vegetable washer."