Ellis Johnson Might Be Famous, page 14
“Would you like to know why I will not be using your harmonica?”
I don’t answer. To be real, I don’t want to know. I played the best I could. It still wasn’t good enough? Ms. Francis hands me a piece of paper from the music stand in front of her.
The Annual Hollywood
CHRISTMAS PARADE
“You are an excellent blues harmonica player, Mr. Johnson.” Ms. Francis removes her glasses and lowers her voice. “However, this winter concert is not a blues concert. I thought harmonica might work, but I was wrong. You are not permitted to tell anyone what I just said. I will deny it and make sure you serve detention for the remainder of the school year. Do you understand me?”
I nod at least eight times. It’s easier than speaking. Ms. Francis puts her glasses back on the edge of her nose. Why wear glasses if you’re not going to actually look through them?
“The parade is televised on the local news. Hollywood Middle School has a float every year. This year, we will turn it into a Hollywood Blues Parade with a solo from you.” Ms. Francis pauses with her face frozen, then says, “That will be all. You’re dismissed.”
I did it. I DID IT! And I’m going to be in another parade. Unless there’s a ladder or a kangaroo. There’s no way I’m going more than three feet off the ground.
This is the best day of my life.
I throw my backpack over my shoulder and step out of Ms. Francis’s music class. It’s now been 111 days. Middle school is not for the weak. I should know. I take my harmonica out as I walk down the hallway. I want everyone to hear Howlin’ Johnson coming.
Everything is back to where it was. Actually, everything is better than it was. Almost. There’s just one more thing I need to change.
A Different Kind of Chip
Alex, Jordan, and I are standing in the middle of aisle ten of the Rock and Roll Ralphs. This aisle is legendary. Chocolate chips have been lost here. Chocolate chips have been found.
Alex makes his demands clear. “I’m not climbing on any shelf. I’m not touching any bags. I’m not putting any chocolate chips in my hat. Not like last time. You got it?”
“Ch-ch-chocolate chips in your hat?” Jordan wonders aloud.
“I promise,” I say. “You don’t need to touch any chocolate chips. This is a chocolate-free mission.”
I scan the shelves of baking supplies. Think, Ellis. If I wanted a chocolate chip cookie that didn’t have chocolate chips, what would it be? What could take their place? This is hard. A chocolate chip cookie without chocolate chips is toally worthless. I mean, really, what’s the point of having a cookie at all? Keep thinking. It needs something that can melt in your mouth. Something sweet.
Boom! There it is! Staring at me from the bottom shelf. Wedged in between the vanilla extract and shredded coconut. A lonely sack of butterscotch chips is waiting for its cookie home. The package is almost identical to the chocolate chips resting a few shelves above. I reach down and grab them.
“Sunset Cookies is about to make its first butterscotch chip cookie.”
“Sounds awful,” Alex says.
“Yep,” Jordan agrees.
“You’re right,” I admit. “But I know at least one person who will like it.”
Dad’s chipped ceramic bowl is filled with fluffy cookie dough. It’s just like the old days making cookies at home. Only this time, I’m behind the bowl. Usually, it’s Dad who makes the batter. This time, he’s letting me drive. He stands on the opposite end of the metal table watching me struggle with the butterscotch chip package.
“May I? If you’re not careful, you’re going to spill those chips all over the floor.”
He slowly pulls the bag open. A few butterscotch chips tumble onto the table. Dad scoops them up and pops them in his mouth. He rolls the butterscotch chips around the inside of his lips, letting them melt a bit. Now, he chews. He’s doing his best to understand what he’s tasting. Finally, Dad gives his verdict.
“Alright, I get it. This is what you call ‘a light touch.’ They don’t pack the punch of chocolate chips, but they’re sweet. Creamy, too. I’ll pour ’em in. You fold them.”
I slowly stir my wooden spoon, mixing in the golden butterscotch. One by one, they all get folded into the batter. Now it’s time to drop them onto the baking sheet. Dad and I pat our hands with flour and pinch some dough from the bowl. The bite-sized drops look perfect. The butterscotch chips and pecans are almost the same color next to each other.
Dad opens the oven, but Hershel stops him before he can place the baking sheet inside. He adjusts the knob on the side.
“You need a lower temperature for these, Mr. Johnson. Butterscotch takes longer to melt than chocolate. You don’t want the cookies to burn while they’re sitting in the oven a few extra minutes.”
“Man, Hershel, you’re a baking master,” I say. “We should give him a raise, Dad.”
“Easy now, my man. No one’s saying anything about raises.” Dad turns. “Thank you, Hershel.”
“Just doing my job, Mr. Johnson. Let’s give them fifteen minutes to bake.”
Fifteen minutes. “What time did they say they were coming, Dad?”
“Five o’clock.” Dad seems nervous. He’s chewing furiously on his toothpick. “Unless they back out. Your grandma may have scared them off for good.”
“They’ll be here. I know it.” I go to the front of the store. Alex is working the cash register behind the counter. Jordan sits at our corner VIP table doing his homework. I get up on my milk crate just as someone comes in.
My heart jumps into my throat.
It’s Jada, Jordan mouths silently.
I know, I mouth back.
She looks perfect like always. This time, she has a cowboy hat on. Jordan gives me a thumbs-up as she passes him.
“Jada. Hi. What are you doing here?”
“Buying cookies. What else?”
What else…? Maybe seeing me? Oh well. I guess buying cookies is enough. At least she’s here. I scoop some cookies and weigh them on the scale.
“Oh. And I wanted to see you.”
SPLAT!
No, no, no! I dropped everything again. Jada does her best to not laugh. Alex and Jordan aren’t so kind from across the room.
“This is coming out of your pay,” Alex teases me.
“Don’t t-t-toss your cookies, Ellis,” Jordan chimes in.
Hershel appears on cue with a broom and dustpan. “Don’t worry, Ellis, I’ll clean this up.”
Hershel always bails me out when I need it. I’ve gotta get him a raise. It seems like that’s what a boss should do. I step off my milk crate and walk around the counter. Jada is looking at the turntables.
“You’re not DJ’ing today?”
“Dad only lets me DJ on weekends.” I pull my harmonica out of my pocket. “I’m playing again. Thanks to you. I’m really glad you gave it to me—even though I’m not sure why.”
Jada lets out a small laugh. “Don’t be silly. Because that’s what friends do. I wish I could have been at that parade to help you.”
“Me too. Hey! I’m gonna be in another one. I’m playing a solo in the Hollywood Christmas Parade.” I know I’m bragging, but after spilling cookies two times, I need whatever help I can get.
“That’s amazing. What are you going to play? Can I hear?”
Can she hear? Playing for Jada in my cookie store? What could be better? I reach for my harmonica. Wow, I should have played for her sooner. This is my moment! I take a deep breath and put my harmonica to my mouth… just as I see Jada’s eyes moving toward the front door. Her eyes widen. What’s she looking at?
“Sarah!”
Sam and Sarah are here. I knew they’d come. But I wish they could have waited a few more minutes. They’re stepping on my solo. Jada runs over to give Sarah a hug. My excitement is pushed aside by confusion.
“You two know each other?”
A Place for Everyone
“Yeah. We both go to Community School.”
Sarah and Jada are friends? I’m not sure how I feel about that. It’s a little too close for comfort. I put my harmonica back in my pocket. There’s definitely no playing right now. I mumble, “Hi, Sarah. Hi, Sam,” under my breath. Sam gives me that same sorry look she gave me from her car after Grandma caught Dad and her kissing. I give her my own sorry stare before Hershel’s voice snaps me out of it.
“You smell that?” Behind the counter, Hershel is sniffing the air like a dog who wants a treat. “It’s time for those cookies to come out of the oven.”
Dad’s voice arrives ahead of him through the door. “Alright, my man. It’s five o’clock. I think your cookies are…” He stops in his tracks when he sees Sam. He has that same gooey look I’ve seen before. It still makes me cringe, but…
“He’s happy,” I tell Jada. “I asked him.”
Dad manages to get his legs moving toward Sam. She puts her arm out before he can get too close.
“Your mother’s not here, is she?”
“No. I sent her on a trip.”
“On TWA,” I add.
Sam lowers her arm, but she’s still suspicious. Dad carefully moves in one step closer. “I’m sorry, Goldilocks. I got it wrong. Can we begin again?”
Sam’s face brightens. She closes the last gap between them and gives Dad a hug. “I’d like that.” Then she turns to Sarah. “Isn’t there something you want to give to Ellis’s father?”
Sarah extends her arm to Dad. He takes the folded sheet of paper. Before he can open it, Sarah starts to explain. But she doesn’t need to. She shouldn’t have to. I know what’s inside.
“It’s an apology note, Dad. For making a scene about the cookies. But I’m the one who should apologize. It was my idea.”
Dad and Sam look at me the same way Dad and Mom sometimes do. I’m sure you’ve gotten the same look from your parents. The one that says, “I’m glad you’re telling the truth, but you are in SO much trouble.” That’s what’s happening right now. Dad waits for me to finish. I’m not so sure that’s a good thing, but it’s too late to stop now.
“We both wanted you to break up, so I asked Sarah to make a big scene about hating the cookies. I thought I could chase Sam out of the store for good.” I muster the courage to look Sam in the eye. “I’m sorry I’ve been so mean to you. I think you’re really nice, and I know my dad really likes you. It’s just… it’s just a lot. But the plant was an accident. I had no idea Grandma was gonna lose it on Sarah.”
Sam takes the same kind of breath I do when I’m nervous. “Can I tell you a secret, Ellis?” I nod. “You’re the reason I gave you and your dad those first-class tickets. Remember? I handed them to you. You’re a special kid. I could tell right away. And even special kids make mistakes. Can we begin again?”
I nod. What a relief. “Thanks, Sam.”
“But I really do hate chocolate,” Sarah adds. “I make no apologies.”
No one can believe their ears.
Even Jada is shaken. “This is the Cookie King and the Cookie Kid. You don’t like chocolate?”
Everyone’s piling on Sarah.
“Don’t listen to them,” I say. “Hold on.” I quickly escape and return with a baking sheet of warm butterscotch chip cookies. Everyone surrounds the VIP table—our noses working overtime. “Here.” I remove a cookie from the baking sheet and hand it to her. “Dad and I made these for you.”
I can tell Sarah is honored. “This is such a stepbrother move,” she says, clutching her cookie.
Stepbrother?! Easy now. “It’s only a butterscotch cookie. Just try it.”
Sarah takes a bite and chews it carefully. She’s focused. We all wait for her to swallow. Then she takes another bite. She’s thinking hard. Chewing. Thinking. Chewing. Now she takes a third bite.
“Sarah!” Sam says, exasperated. “Say something!”
“What? These are incredible! You should try one.”
That’s all we need. Everyone grabs a cookie from the baking sheet.
“Hershel, come try one,” Dad calls. “And bring some milk with you.”
Hershel cradles milk pints in his apron just as Wishbone enters. He’s out of breath.
“I got your call, Big Brother. Lay this butterscotch situation on me,” Wishbone pants.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on the radio right now?” Dad asks.
“I got an extended remix of ‘Give Up the Funk’ spinning in the mothership.” Wishbone checks his wrist. “Six minutes on the watch. Now hit me with the butterscotch.”
Jada lights up seeing Wishbone. “You’re back on the radio? Our calls worked!”
“You called the station?” I can’t believe she would do that for me.
“I had some help.” Jada and Sarah give each other a handshake that looks very close to Alex’s and mine.
“I knew it. I told you she called,” Alex says, punching me in the shoulder. I punch him back.
“You never said anything about her calling.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Sarah interrupts, “Can you two stop?” She turns to Jada. “They’re so annoying.”
Wishbone isn’t paying any attention. He’s got butterscotch on the brain. He grabs two cookies and pops them both in his mouth before taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes. “Big Brother. Pops. You did it again. This cookie proves that we all can get along. There is room for all brothers and sisters. I see little chocolate chip cookies holding hands with little butterscotch chip cookies—being judged by the character of their crunch. Free at last! Free at last! You dig me?”
“NO!” everyone says. Everyone but me. For once, I do know what Wishbone is saying. I’ve been afraid of sharing Dad, sharing my clubhouse, sharing the store. But the cookie store is supposed to be shared—whatever Grandma says about the customers. The more people, the better. You can’t have a cookie store without people in it. Sunset Cookies should be a place where everyone feels like a VIP—even people who don’t like chocolate. I think the butterscotch chip cookie is the perfect addition to the Sunset Cookies family. Sure, it’s not as sweet as a chocolate chip cookie, but it’s got its own vibe. There’s room for both.
“Hey, Dad, we should add butterscotch chip cookies to the menu and start selling them, too.” Dad gives me a surprised look. “Things are always changing. You’re either changing wit’ it or going up against it.”
Wishbone gives me a fist bump. “Preach. Like disco and funk. My man. You’re the glue, Big Brother. Howlin’ Johnson! Holding it together!” Wishbone looks at his watch again. “Oh, snap, my song’s about to fade. Catch you all on the flip.” Wishbone grabs two more cookies before dashing down Sunset back to KIRA. Jada’s mom and her boyfriend, Roderick, walk in on his way out. Alex’s and Jordan’s dads arrive, too, for their cookie store pickup.
“What do I smell?” Mr. Reedy asks. “You’ve got something new baking.”
Hershel returns with another fresh batch of butterscotch chip cookies. “I baked the last of your batter, Ellis. There aren’t too many, but you all can try them.” Hershel places the cookies on another table. The adults all gather around to sample Sunset Cookies’ newest flavor. We kids stay at the corner table. I put my arm around Alex.
“Thanks for being honest with me. About Sam. About Sarah. You were right. I wasn’t very nice.”
“You were mean,” Alex corrects me.
“Okay. Easy.”
Alex gives me the secret handshake. “You can always trust me. You’re definitely a VIP, Ellis.”
“And you’re my best friend.”
“Oh, shoot, I’ve gotta water your grandma’s plants in the greenhouse. She’ll kill me if I forget.” Alex dashes out the back.
I look around at all of my friends. “This store needs some music.” Digging through the crate, I find the perfect album and drop the needle. “Every 1’s a Winner” by Hot Chocolate. The whole room is dancing, eating cookies, and drinking milk. Sunset Cookies—where the music is sweet and everything good to eat. It feels like a little bit of this store belongs to all of us. Just how it should be.
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A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Dear Reader,
Thanks for following Ellis and his family on another journey. Like Cookies & Milk, this book is rooted in my own real-life childhood. Lots of things changed once my dad’s cookie store became successful. I had to learn to share him with a lot of people. Tons of conflicting emotions wrestled inside of me. Yes, I was happy for him. Yes, I liked traveling to new places and having adventures with him (I once got to deliver cookies on a helicopter). What I didn’t like? Sharing him with all sorts of strangers.
It’s a funny thing about being famous—everyone thinks they know you. I guess they do in a way. Decades later, people still tell me how happy they were to meet my dad. It makes me proud. I’m not annoyed anymore. I used to feel I was in my father’s shadow but ultimately discovered a cure: When you create enough sunshine around your life, the shadows disappear.
My family also changed after my parents’ divorce. My dad met another woman. We actually met her together on a plane ride from New York to Los Angeles. They dated, and I watched them get married. Soon, they had a daughter, and I found myself an older brother. At first I was jealous. I had to admit that I had hopes of my mom and dad getting back together. I was also confused. My new stepmom was pretty cool in ways that my mom was not. It felt wrong to love her.
