Farm Fresh Fun Read online

  “Sorry about the farm trip,” she said.

  “It’s okay,” I replied. “You know what I’m most sad about, though?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “That I made Mrs. B upset,” I said in a small voice.

  Molly thought for a moment. She took another spin on the stool and stopped, facing me. “Maybe you could write a note to Mrs. B telling her how you feel, or make her something?”

  I wondered what I could write or make for Mrs. B. Then I remembered I had my two apples from Camille.

  “I know!” I said, pointing my finger in the air. “I’ll make her an apple tart just like I had at Camille’s!”

  Molly smiled. “Maybe we could make one together,” she said.

  I jumped up and hugged her, knocking her off her stool, but she didn’t even get mad.

  We called Mr. Durand for an apple tart recipe. He gave us one that he said “even elephants could make.” I thought that was a weird thing to say, but I once heard that elephants were pretty smart, so I hoped it wasn’t too hard. We rolled out the dough into a square, put the cut apples on it all nice and pretty, and covered it with melted butter, sugar, and lots of cinnamon, of course.

  When it was done baking, I had to run out of the kitchen quick with my hands over my mouth so I wouldn’t eat it.

  The next morning, I carried my tart carefully wrapped in foil and saw Sage walking out of his house holding something in a jar.

  “What’s that?” I asked him when I caught up with him.

  “It’s apple chutney. I asked my mom if I could make something for Mrs. B.”

  “I made her something, too, see?” I said, uncovering my tart. “We are good in the same ways!”

  “Wow,” Sage said. “We just might be the baddest and goodest people we know!” We held our goodies carefully as we walked the rest of the way to school.

  When we got into the classroom, we went right up to Mrs. B, who stood near her desk. The buses hadn’t arrived yet, so only the kids who walked to school were in the classroom putting away their stuff.

  “My sister and I made an apple tart from the farm apples,” I said. “You get to eat the whole thing!” I held up the tart.

  “And my mom and I made you apple chutney,” Sage chimed in, holding up his jar.

  “Wow, that’s so nice of you both,” Mrs. B said. “I can’t wait to taste all of this.” She put the tart and the chutney on the side of her desk. I was kind of disappointed because I wanted to see her eat the tart and maybe ask me if I wanted some, too.

  “What did I do to deserve these treats?” she asked, taking off her green glasses that she wore on a beaded chain around her neck.

  “I was the one who did something bad. So I put all my sorry feelings into the tart,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Sage said. “I did that, too.” He pointed to the chutney jar.

  “Maybe we could mail some to Farmer Jenna,” I suggested.

  Mrs. B laughed. “I’m not sure this would mail all that well, but I will tell her that you wanted to. I know you didn’t mean for it to happen. I just want to make sure you both know how important it is to follow the rules.”

  “We know,” said Sage, looking down.

  I nodded.

  “But now that you understand, let’s try these lovely things,” she said, and pulled off a little piece of tart for herself.

  “Oh, Phoebe! That’s delicious!” she said with her mouth full. Then she tasted a spoonful of the chutney. “Fantastic, Sage. I’m serving this at my next dinner party!”

  That’s another thing I love about Mrs. B. She has really good taste.

  Later, in the cafeteria, Camille waved me over and patted the seat next to her. I sat down and looked at Camille’s lunch laid out, with a small piece of bread on a napkin, a cup of blueberries, and a pretty-looking salad with very curly lettuce, apples, and thin slices of Parmesan cheese that looked like little pieces of paper.

  Then I saw Sage glancing over at us, holding his tray. I sighed. There wasn’t a seat open next to me. That’s one of the worst things about having two best friends. Lunch always needed to be figured out. We tried to sit together, but sometimes it didn’t work. I hoped Sage wasn’t going to feel bad. He started to march right toward us. Then I looked at Camille, and she was waving him over.

  “I saved a seat for you, Sage,” she said to him, and patted the seat on the other side of her. I wanted to give her a big hug, but I didn’t want to knock her off her chair, so I just clapped my hands.

  Sage grinned and sat down. He had the school lunch—a piece of very brown meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans that were more brown than green. I had some pesto pasta that I made with my mom, and artichokes, my new favorite vegetable. Camille and I traded tastes like we usually do. The sweet apples, bitter lettuce, and salty cheese did a dance in my mouth. After we ate our lunches, right when I was wishing I had a piece of that tart I gave Mrs. B, Camille took out some lemon cake and gave us both a piece. Pretty cool, huh?

  As we chomped on the sweet, spongy cake together and made lots of “mmmm” sounds, I finally figured out the best thing about having two best friends—it’s having two best friends.