Beginner's Luck
By Libby Lazewnik

Getting Ready

...“Well, how many muffins do we have to bake?” Tzippy asked, as the last of the girls clattered breathlessly down Naomi’s basement stairs.

They were returning, the following evening, from a last-minute trek to the supermarket to pick up the odd ingredient or two they’d overlooked in their first two visits. The pile of necessaries in the corner of Naomi’s basement had grown to alarming proportions. Oven mitts, platters, and baking cups had joined the rest. So had four cooling racks.

A long folding table had been set up against one basement wall, and eight hand mixers stood poised and waiting alongside eight mixing bowls. A variety of measuring utensils filled in the spaces in between. Naomi’s father had constructed an elaborate maze of triple- and quadruple-prong electrical outlets to accommodate all the mixer cords. Wires snaked from these outlets in a tangled heap, shoved discreetly under the table. All was ready for action.

It was Ellie who answered Tzippy’s question. Her soft voice seemed to fill the room.

“This is what I thought: If each of us were to bake ten muffin recipes - with a dozen muffins in each - that would come to 120 muffins per girl. Multiply that by eight, and you get -;”

“Nine hundred and sixty muffins!” Yocheved had a flair for mental arithmetic.

“Let’s make that an even thousand,” Shevy said eagerly. “Don’t forget, each muffin brings us closer to California.”

Ellie laughed. “Why don’t we wait and see how close we get to our first goal? It may take a lot longer than we think.”

“Why should it?” Naomi argued. “Whipping up a batch of muffins shouldn’t take more than ten minutes or so. If each girl does that ten times, that comes to -”

“One hundred minutes per girl.” This time, it was Yaffa who broke in with the answer. Though math and Yaffa did not see eye-to-eye in general, even she could multiply ten by ten in her head.

“Exactly! Just over an hour and a half for each of us. It’s only seven-thirty now. Even adjusting for delays, we should be done by nine-thirty, at the outside.”

Ellie was dubious. This estimate seemed overly optimistic to her. Looking around at the eager faces, however, she held her tongue. Who could tell? With discipline, they might just manage to stick to Naomi’s confident timetable.

Unfortunately, when a group of thirteen-year-old girls get together for the evening, discipline is the last thing on their minds.

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