The Secret Cookie Club by Martha Freeman

anything,” she said.
    â€œSeriously?”
    Shoshi shrugged. “My sister is always in trouble, and my brother plays hockey, which my mom says is practically a full-time job for the parents. Also, they both work. I’m lucky if they remember to go to the grocery store.”
    â€œSeriously?”
    Shoshi laughed. “You said that already.”
    â€œI don’t have any pets,” I said, “or brothers or sisters either.”
    â€œI love my pets,” Shoshi said, “but you are welcome to my brother and my sister.”
    After that, we got back to work. She needed to add more stuff about bears, and I had more to say about Bronson Alcott, an important thinker and the father of Louisa May Alcott, who wrote Little Women .
    We had been working only a few minutes when I heard footsteps in the hall, and then Shoshi’s mom appeared in the doorway. She was tall like Shoshi with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing jeans and a big gray UMASS sweatshirt. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Maybe she had been working in the yard?
    â€œShosh, I need you to help me corral Blimpy—oh!” She spotted me. “Hello, sweetie. I didn’t know we had company.”
    Shoshi rolled her eyes. “Mo-o-om! This is Grace? I told you she was coming over? We are doing that Walden thing?”
    â€œRight. Of course. Got it,” said Shoshi’s mom. Then she nodded at me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grace, and I’m sorry to cut this short, but we were due at the vet five minutes ago.”

CHAPTER 16

    Grace
    Blimpy turned out to be the Rubinsteins’ cat. To avoid being put in his carrier, he had scooted behind the clothes dryer and gotten stuck. Shoshi, being smaller than her mom, was supposed to squeeze back there and pull him out.
    Shoshi argued that she and I had work to do, and besides, Blimpy was Molly’s cat.
    There was more yelling. I realized no one was actually angry.This was just the way the family communicated. Finally, Shoshi said, “Oh, all right, but don’t blame me if I flunk sixth grade.”
    Mrs. Rubinstein’s reply was to hand her daughter gardening gloves in case Blimpy tried to fight back.
    â€œWe can meet Monday after school,” Shoshi told me as she tugged on the gloves and I zipped my backpack.
    â€œAt my house,” I said.
    â€œ Now who’s bossy?” Shoshi put her hands on her hips, but she was smiling.
    I rode my bike home in a very good mood. In the family room, my mother hugged me as if I had returned from jungle exploration. Then she asked me to tell her all about Shoshi’s house.
    I shrugged. “We did homework. Now she has to help her mom take the cat to the vet.”
    â€œAh,” said my mom, “so they have a cat as well as that big dog.”
    â€œLots of people have pets, Mom. I would like to have a cat.”
    My mother shook her head. “Cats are just a lot of furand trouble for nothing. If you need something to cuddle, you have your stuffed animals. If you need something to talk to, you have your father and me.”
    I laughed. Truthfully, I was glad I was not at this moment wrestling a cat. “Hey, Mom—when you drove by before, were you checking up on me?”
    â€œChecking up on you? Of course not. I had to go to . . . uh, the store. We were out of something.”
    â€œOut of what?”
    â€œMilk,” my mom said. “Dish soap. Oh—I almost forgot. Something came for you in the mail.”
    The something was a shallow box like a gift box from a fancy store, most of it plastered in silver tape. In two small squares of untaped surface area were written my address and the return address, Lucy Ambrose, Los Angeles, California, 90035.
    My cookies!
    I used the bread knife to cut the tape. As she watched me work, my mother cringed. “Be careful! Please be careful!”
    Finally, I succeeded in making three long slits so I