My Mixed-Up Berry Blue Summer Read Online Free PDF Page A

a long time.
    â€œI know things are hard right now,” she said. “Everything OK with Tina?”
    I nodded. I didn’t say anything about Mr. Costa.
    â€œChange is hard sometimes, but good, too,” she added. “Eva’s just excited, hoping the rest of the world understands us.”
    â€œWhat if Vermont is not ready?” I asked.
Or me,
I thought. But I felt a little bad for ignoring Eva again.
    â€œDon’t worry about it. You just do what you do best.” She ruffled my hair. “Making pies.”
    I dumped in eight cups of flour to start a quadruple recipe of pie crust: two cups flour, thirteen tablespoons of butter, a teaspoon salt, and a quarter cup water times four. Once I had guessed the measurements, but I had learned to do it precisely to avoid sticky or dry crust.
    I clicked the knives against each other, cutting the butter into the flour. Pie making can be good thinking time. Right now I didn’t know what to think except that I wasn’t interested in change, not the Eva kind.
    I worked the dough with my hands, stealing a smidge of salty, flour-coated butter. Finally the dough held together, and I formed four balls.
    â€œKnock, knock,” Luke said through the screen.
    â€œWant to make pies?” I waved my floured hands.
    â€œWhy not? My dad’s not needing me.”
    I handed Luke a rolling pin and we began rolling dough under wax paper.
    â€œI went to the Costas’ today,” I said.
    â€œAnd . . .”
    â€œWell, Mrs. Costa’s real butter makes a difference in her crust.”
    â€œNot surprising,” he said. “What else?”
    â€œMoonbeam practically glows, Tina keeps him so clean,” I said. “She’s entering him in the fair.”
    â€œAny trouble?” Luke swung the rolling pin like a bat.
    I pretended he was scaring me. “No.”
    Then I was quiet for a minute and told him what I had heard Mr. Costa say. “They seemed friendly like always,” I said. “I just can’t see them being nice and then hating Mom and Eva inside.”
    Luke began working on the next ball of dough. “We saw a lot of those ‘Take Back Vermont’ signs in Burlington. It could have been anyone.”
    â€œA lot?”
    â€œWe also saw some ‘Keep It Civil’ signs.”
    â€œI just want the whole thing to disappear.” I pressed the crusts into the pie plates and began measuring the sugar and the flour for the fruit. This is the part that takes talent. I tasted the strawberries. They were sweet but a little tart. The rhubarb is always sour, so I added a little more sugar. Lemon never hurts either.
    As soon as the sugar and flour were mixed in, the juices started flowing. I scooped the fruit into the shells and licked my fingers.
    Luke smeared his whole palm in the bowl and began licking his hand. “Got anything else to eat around here?”
    â€œIs that you, Luke?” Mom called from the office. “Did your dad forget about dinner again? I was thinking you guys might like the leftover sandwiches from the shop. We didn’t sell too many today.”
    â€œWe’d love ’em,” he said.
    â€œI’m almost done.” I sealed one of the pies with my two fingers and thumb. I fluted the edges of the last ones and placed them in the oven.
    Outside, the evening was warm. A breeze kept most of the mosquitoes away.
    â€œRace you to the shop,” I said. Luke took off and passed me in a second. It felt good, flying through the darkness toward the shop’s light.
    Inside, we found five sandwiches. “That means Mom sold only about ten sandwiches today,” I said, surprised. There were even cookies left over, so I grabbed one.
    â€œMore for me!” He scooped the sandwiches into his arms.
    We sat on the dock, looking out at the lake. The sky was turning pink and purple as the sun set. It gave the trees a warm hue, setting Luke’s island aglow.