Julia’s Kitchen by Brenda A. Ferber Page B

in cursive, not print.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo, you printed.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo, it’s not the same.” Sometimes Marlee could be so dense.
    â€œBut what difference does it make? This looks good. Who cares if it’s not exactly the way your mom did it? They’re your cookies now.”
    My cookies? I turned that thought over in my head. “You think?”
    â€œYeah. Well, maybe they’re our cookies. After all, I am the one with the nice handwriting.”
    I laughed. I let Marlee finish decorating the rest of the tea cookies. Then we ran to Walgreens to get a basket, some cellophane, and tissue paper, which I paid for with saved-up allowance. My cookies. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the sound of it.
    On our way back to the apartment, I collected the mail. There was a package. For me! I looked at the return address and saw it was from Roz.
    â€œWhat do you think it is?” Marlee asked.
    The small brown package was medium weight and about the size of a CD case. “I have no idea.”
    We rushed upstairs and opened it. Inside was a silver bracelet with the words “Life is a journey, not a destination!” engraved on the top and “Enjoy the moments!” underneath. I’d seen Roz wear it before.
    â€œCool!” Marlee said.
    There was a note:
    Dear Cara,
    In honor of your mom’s birthday, I’m sending you this bracelet. You may remember I have one just like it. Your mom gave it to me when I first moved out to L.A., and it has inspired me many times over the years. You’re on your own journey now, a journey you never planned, but still, your own unique path. Enjoy the moments!
    Lots of love,
    Roz
    Marlee read over my shoulder. “When’s your mom’s birthday?”
    â€œToday.”
    â€œOh, Cara, I’m sorry.” She put her arm around me and gave a tight squeeze.
    â€œThanks,” I said, glad that Marlee understood.
    â€œIt’s kind of cool, though,” Marlee said, “that we put this basket together on her birthday. Do you think she knows?”
    â€œOh, she knows.”
    â€œYou sound so sure.”
    â€œI am. I can’t explain it, but I am.”
    Marlee grinned. “Well, good. Then I’m sure, too.”
    I slid the bracelet onto my wrist and ran my fingers over the engraved words. I loved it. I had been meaning to call Roz for some time now. I would do it tonight.
    Marlee and I put the basket together, cushioning the cookies in colorful tissue paper. But just as I was about to tie off the cellophane wrapping, Marlee said, “Wait! We forgot something.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œThe quote. The little saying. Like Roz said at the funeral. Your mom always put one in each basket.”
    How could I have forgotten that? Of course. But what would we say? Marlee and I started throwing ideas around.
    â€œWelcome to the world?”
    â€œGirls rule and boys drool?”
    â€œSugar and spice and everything nice?”
    â€œGirls rock?”
    Nothing we thought of sounded good to both of us. Finally, I said, “Let’s look in my scrapbook. Maybe we’ll see something there.”
    We paged through the book, studying the photos as we went. At last we found it. The perfect quote. It was from one of the pages I’d taken out of Janie’s journal. Marlee wrote it in her best handwriting with little hearts and swirls around the edges. I had to laugh, thinking of how out of context the quote was. Janie had been talking about the start of the soccer season. “Ready or not … here I am! A girl like nobody you’ve ever seen before!”
    The basket was complete. The sky was clear blue. I didn’t have to worry about rain, after all.
    And my worries about taking the bus? A complete waste of energy. It was as easy as the lady at the bus company had said it would be.
    Marlee and I stood in front of 1414 Baer Avenue, a small green house with