Holy Enchilada by Henry Winkler Read Free Book Online

going to make a dish for the buffet lunch tomorrow. Chef Hank was going to teach Yoshi Morimoto how to make cheese enchiladas.
    You’re probably wondering if I’d ever made cheese enchiladas before.
    You know what? There’s a first time for everything!

CHAPTER 11
    AFTER SCHOOL, we were all going to walk back to our apartment building together—Frankie, Emily, Yoshi, and me, with Robert tagging not far behind. Ashley had to go to soccer practice, so she was going to meet up with us later, after dinner.
    While we waited on the front steps of school for my parents to pick us up, Yoshi showed us a few of his skateboard moves. He was working on perfecting his kick-flip and he actually did one—not once, but twice!
    Emily kept staring at him with that same goo-goo-eyed expression that Ashley had when she first saw him. On a scale of one to ten, I’d say Emily was interested in Yoshi one thousand and fifty-seven.
    â€œThere she goes again,” Frankie whispered to me as he watched Emily staring at Yoshi. “She’s doing that eye thing she does at Robert.”
    â€œThe girl is a goo-goo-eye machine,” I whispered back. “It’s so embarrassing.”
    Robert kept trying to get Emily to notice him. He was jealous of how much attention she was paying to Yoshi, no doubt about it. Emily and Robert have a special nerd-to-nerd kind of connection. Let’s just say they’ve bonded over their love of the wonderful world of reptiles. So every time Yoshi would attempt a kick-flip, Robert would turn to Emily and say something like, “Snakes have no eyelids or ear holes.”
    Poor little guy. No one cared—not even Emily, at that moment.
    I was expecting to see my mom and dad, so I was really surprised when Papa Pete came jogging up 78th Street to our school. He waved to Mr. Baker, the crossing guard, and panted to a stop right in front of us. He was breathing pretty hard, although he’s in good shape for an almost sixty-eight-year-old grandpa.
    As soon as Yoshi saw Papa Pete approach us, he hopped off his skateboard, came over to him, and bowed. That was a strange sight. My grandpa looks like a big, warm, fuzzy grizzly bear in a strawberry-red jogging suit. He’s definitely not the kind of person you bow to.
    â€œHello, grandkids,” Papa Pete said, reaching out to give each of us a pinch on the cheek. I was curious to see if he was going to pinch Yoshi, too, but he didn’t. Instead, he bowed back.
    â€œYou must be Yoshi,” he said. “I’m Papa Pete, Hank’s grandfather.”
    Yoshi bowed again. “It is an honor to meet you, ojiisan.”
    â€œHey, Yosh, you can call him Papa Pete,” Frankie said. “We all do.”
    â€œIn Japan, we call older men ojiisan,” Yoshi said. “Out of respect.”
    Papa Pete broke out into a big smile and twirled the end of his long handlebar mustache with his fingers.
    â€œRight! It’s about time I got a little respect around here,” he said, giving Frankie and me a playful chuck under the chin. Then he turned to Yoshi. “How would you like to come with ojiisan on a little ‘Welcome to America’ celebration?” he said. “I have in mind some bowling and a root-beer float.”
    â€œI have never seen root beer float,” said Yoshi. “I didn’t know it could.”
    We all had a really good laugh, including Papa Pete.
    â€œWe’re going to have a good time, Yoshi, my boy,” he said.
    And then he did just what I knew he was going to do. He reached out and gave Yoshi a big pinch on the cheek. Yoshi seemed surprised, but I think he liked it. There isn’t anybody who doesn’t like Papa Pete. He is the greatest, warmest, funniest, smartest grandpa around.
    We headed down Amsterdam Avenue toward McKelty’s Roll ’N Bowl, which is Papa Pete’s home away from home. He’s a champion bowler, and a champion root-beer-float