Dennis?â
âYeah?â
âYouâre not going to try and show me the dead birdâs foot at your house, are you?â
âDonât worry. I know itâs not everyoneâs thing. But, Sophie, Iâm curious. What is your thing?â
And before I have time to think twice, the word comes out. âActing.â I let out a big sigh, because the truth really does sort of hurt. âMy thing, right now, is acting.â
âCool,â he says. âI bet youâre good at it.â
And all I can think is,
Weâll see, Dennis. Weâll see.
Chapter 10
milk and chocolate-chip cookies
THEY MAKE HOMEWORK BEARABLE
W hen we walk into Dennisâs house, it smells delicious, like weâve just walked into a bakery.
âHello!â a womanâs voice calls out. âDennis, Iâm in the kitchen.â
âYeah, Mom, I can tell. Whatever youâre making, it smells really good!â
Weâre standing in the living room, where there are more knickknacks than Iâve ever seen in one place. She has hutches, bookshelves, and end tables full of music boxes, tea cups, ceramic and glass figurines, and all kinds of other stuff. Itâs totally different from our house. My mom canât stand having knickknacks or useless stuff just sitting around.
Dennis must sense my amazement. âSomething else, huh? My mom calls them her treasures.â He drops his voice to a whisper. âThatâs not what I would call them.â
âWhere does she get it all?â I ask.
âThe thrift store. Man, she loves that place. Thereâs nothing here that cost more than three ninety-nine. Except maybe the sofa. I think she got that for nineteen ninety-nine.â
I look at the old sofa with pink-and-green stripes. She paid $19.99 for that? I think she got robbed. âSo, I guess you could call her a treasure hunter?â
He smiles. âSomething like that.â He picks up a glass penguin as we walk by one of the end tables.âHelp!â he says in a high, squeaky voice. âGet me back to the South Pole. Iâm dying here.â
âWatch your feet, penguin,â I say. âTheyâre not safe around Dennis.â
âWait a second,â he says. âDo penguin have feet?â
I give him a shove. âStop it.â
I follow him into the kitchen where his mom is standing at the counter with a spatula, taking cookies off a baking sheet and putting them on a cooling rack. Sheâs a short woman, and has her brown hair up in a bun. Sheâs wearing a bright red-and-yellow apron and a big smile.
âI hope you like chocolate, Sophie.â
âI love it,â I say.
âGood. This chocolate-chip cookie recipe is our favorite. Itâs very unique in that the oatmeal is blended before you add it in. Dennis, you want to pour some milk for you two?â
She puts the spatula down and comes over to me, carrying a plate of cookies. âDonât know if you remember me. Iâm Margie.â
âI remember. We were just talking about his first-grade birthday party.â
âLetâs see, was that Power Rangers or Spiderman?â
âPower Rangers,â Dennis and I say at the same time. Then he says, âI think I still have some action figures around here somewhere, Sophie. You want to play with them when weâre done? You could be the pink one.â
I raise my eyebrows at him. âI hope youâre joking.â
Margie hands me the plate of cookies, then turns to Dennis. âYou two can use the kitchen table for your homework. I have laundry to put away. Just holler if you need anything, okay?â
âThanks, Mom.â
âThanks,â I echo.
She leaves and we go to the kitchen table. We set the cookies and milk down and drop our backpacks onto the floor. âLetâs eat first,â Dennis says. âIâm starving.â
I take a bite of a cookie. âThese are really
Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins