Chapter 3

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                                                                    "Making Cookies"

It was the end of the school day and I was with Maggie walking towards the parking lot. I had to go to Noah’s house today so that we could make some cookies. I really hoped Noah could cook because I sucked. They always turned out like little black bricks.

            “So where are you meeting him,” Maggie asked.

            “Beside his car,” I said as I tightened my bun.

            “What kind of car does he have,” she asked.

            “A big truck,” I said.

            “Any more details than that,” she asked.

            “Not really,” I said with a laugh. Then I looked to my left and saw Noah leaning against his truck. “There he is”

            “Have fun,” she said with a smirk.

            “I will,” I said as I shifted my bag and walked over to him.

            “Hey,” he said as he pushed himself off of the door.

            “Hi,” I said as I walked around to the other door.

            “You ready to cook,” he asked after he got in and started the truck.

            “Nope but I’m ready to watch you cook,” I said with a grin.

            “You’re really gonna make me do all the work,” he said with a grimace.

            “Trust me when I say that you don’t want my help,” I said as I shook my head.

            “You really can’t cook,” he asked almost hopefully.

            “Not at all,” I promised him.

            “Maybe I can teach you,” he said after a moment.

            “I think I would like that,” I said with a smile.

            “Cool,” he said sounding surprised. Then I noticed that we were turning into a house that had a large fence around it. He had to stop at the gate and press the button on the speaker.

            “Who is it,” the deep voice asked.

            “It’s Noah. Let me in,” Noah said as he glanced over at me.

            “So you’re rich,” I said suddenly uncomfortable.

            “My parents are,” he said looking just as uncomfortable as me.

            “Are you sure I can be here,” I asked quietly.

            “Of course,” he said as his voice rose.

            “I know I’m from the wrong side of town,” I said in a whisper as I pulled into myself.

            “My parents may be rich but none of us are snobs. I promise you that. They won’t hurt you,” he said with a tender look on his face as he stopped the car.

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