Read Online Dear Opl by Shelley Sackier - Free Book Online Page A

better shot at having fun.” He swung his slippered feet off Mr. Muttonchops, who didn’t mind being an ottoman. “Let’s get going.” He pulled himself out of his chair and waited for a few joints to crack into place, then pointed toward the bags on the counter. “Dinner isn’t going to make itself.”
    I looked back toward the kitchen. “No. It waits for Mom.”
    â€œNot tonight, sweetheart. Tonight, you will learn all about the mysteries of the Orient.”
    â€œAre you talking about that shiny blob on the counter? The Orient doesn’t look edible.”
    G-pa grunted and shuffled past me. “That’s an eggplant. And you’ll soon change your mind about its taste—no matter what it looks like. It’s a guest star in our stir-fry tonight. I don’t often throw them in, but it begged to join the others in my grocery cart, so I gave in.”
    â€œI would have resisted.”
    â€œWell, after supper you may be singing a different tune.”
    â€œI like the one I have been singing. Where’s the pizza? Tonight’s supposed to be pizza night. Monday and Thursday are the fat-free hot dogs and Tater Tots. Tuesday and Friday are low-fat chicken nuggets and canned peaches. Wednesday and Saturday are pizza night and non-fat cottage cheese. And Sunday we drive-thru at McDonald’s as my reward for eating all the diet stuff. This is Wednesday. Where’s the pizza?”
    â€œThat garbage isn’t pizza. Pizza doesn’t taste or look like the gunk your mother brings home and stores in the freezer. I’m cooking tonight. Scratch that. We’re cooking tonight. Now go grab an apron and wash your hands.”
    My lower jaw fell to my belly button and would have stayed there had G-pa not pointed with an extra pointy finger toward the pantry where the aprons hung. I turned around and went to choose one. They looked brand-new. Not a spot of food on any of them. Except for the one Dad used to use.
    I plucked his off the hook and smoothed it down the front of me. It said, Dijon Vu—The feeling you’ve had mustard before . I washed my hands and heard G-pa make swashbuckling sword sounds with a long knife and something that looked like a silver stick. “What are you doing?” The sound was dangerous, but I wanted to hear more of it.
    â€œSharpening our tools.”
    â€œAren’t they safer if they’re dull?”
    â€œNope. In fact, the dull ones are the most dangerous kind. They slip off your food and onto your hands.”
    I nodded. “That’s why I say we wait and let Mom make dinner. She knows just how to open the plastic on the freezer pizza so she won’t get cut. I don’t mind waiting.”
    G-pa shook his head. “Sorry, girlie. Now get me the kitchen stool and come over to the cutting board. Pay attention. Knife skills are important.”
    After twenty minutes of sleeping with my eyes open, I glanced at the pile of colorful vegetables he had scooped into a giant dish. Evenly cubed, they waited beside a plastic bowl of onions that had made both of us tear up as he’d diced them. He grabbed a big frying pan from a cupboard below the cutting board and filled it with a few spoonfuls of oil. Twisting a knob on the stove lit a blue flame beneath the pan. Within thirty seconds, the scent of something dark and smoky came to my nose. “What do I smell?” I asked.
    â€œToasted sesame oil,” G-pa answered. “Addictive once you develop the taste for it.” He threw the onions into the pan and had me mix. Then bit by bit he added the other vegetables and told me to keep stirring so nothing would burn.
    I saw him head back into the pantry and come out with a bag of rice. The rice grains reminded me of the insects you’d find under a dead log. “We’re not going to eat those, are we?”
    G-pa poured a cup of the dead white bugs into a pot with some water and threw in