Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner by Samantha
The tiles on my grandma’s kitchen floor squeaked as my mom and my grandma prepared dinner. I held the door open for my aunt and uncle as they walked in the room by the door.
“Hi!” she said, in her cheerful voice. She quietly strolled into the kitchen and began to lay the dinner dishes out.
I sprinted out the back door and into my grandma’s yard.
“Okay,” I shouted to my siblings, all eagerly waiting to start the game of Capture the Flag, “We can start!” I sprinted toward the edge of my side hoping to distract my brothers who were on the other team. Within the next couple of seconds though, something else distracted them. Ding, dong! went the doorbell. We all groaned. “I’ll get the door!” I yelled. As I walked to the door, I began to ponder who was at the door. Everyone was here. I opened the door, but at first I didn’t recognize him. “Who-” I began to say, but then I realized who it was. Mark Cheverton!
“Um, hi.” I said, clearly stumped that one of my favorite authors was here.
“Hello,” he said, smiling. Then he held up a dish and said, “I brought some turkey. Can you show me to the kitchen?” I paused, then said,
“Okay. Follow me.”
When we got to the kitchen, he set the turkey on the table. He shook hands with everyone and greeted them. Then he turned around and shook hands with me. “I’m Mark Cheverton.” he said.
“I’m Samantha .” I replied. He smiled.
“Nice to meet you.” he said.
“You, too.” I said.
Now he knew me, but of course my siblings would like to meet him! “Um, my siblings are in the backyard,” I told him, “Would you like to meet them?”
“Yes, please.” he said to me.
We walked out the back door. “Finally!” my younger brother groaned, but then he went quiet and jumped behind a bush. Typical Ben, I thought, trying to act all stealthy. He always did that when someone he didn’t know came.
“Who is that?” Oliver asked. I was shocked. Didn’t he know who this was? I picked up the book “Confronting the Dragon”, by none other than Mark Cheverton, who was standing in my grandma’s backyard, grinning as my siblings attempted to guess who on earth this was. My brother didn’t pick up on the clue, so I turned to the About the Author page. On the top was a picture of one of my favorite authors, Mark Cheverton. Oliver squinted at the picture, compared it to the actual person and then said,
“Oh. Well you could have told me, Samantha.” Then he hit me on the head. “Ow,” I muttered.
“Hello,” my brother said shaking hands with Mark.
“Hello, I’m Mark Cheverton, but call me Mark.” he said to Oliver
. “I’m Oliver ” said Oliver,
After everyone greeted Mark, we continued to play Capture the Flag, Mark jotting down notes on a notepad every time he got inspired by one of our moves. I dashed, jumped, grasped the flag, and bolted down to my side, narrowly missing the hand of my younger brother, who fell over after desperately reaching for me in attempt to get me in “jail”. Mark jotted down many notes, probably about my win, and then flipped the page of his notebook, the first one being full. I sat down in one of my grandma’s wire chairs and looked at Mark’s notebook. After reading it through, I gave him a few ideas for him to jot down into his notebook. Then, like a fire truck’s siren, my younger brother screamed, “Dinner! Dinner! Dinner!” I got up and walked inside the house.
In the kitchen, the tables were covered with a mountain of food, from the smallest pea to the largest helping of turkey. I piled my plate with peas and turkey, then filled the rest of the space with mashed potatoes and gravy. By the time I got to the table, my plate was nothing but a sea of gravy with islands of turkey, mashed potatoes, and small, round peas. Mark came to the table with Oliver talking about computers, high school, and physics. His plate, as well as Oliver’s, was piled with small amounts of everything. After a few minutes, Mark stopped talking to Oliver and turned to me. I wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying, so all I heard was “Blah, blah, blah, physics?” “What?” I said.
The boys laughed. Then Mark told me some of the things he’d done in Minecraft before, and some of the things in it to inspire his books.
“Once I built a house,” I told him, “A creeper blew it up two times!” We talked and laughed about our Minecraft adventures. It took forever to finish our dinners, and after that, we talked more and more. Finally, after about an hour, someone yelled,
“Pumpkin pie!”
Everyone rushed to the kitchen to get a huge slice of pumpkin pie with an ocean of whipped cream on top. Everyone ate and talked, cheerful conversation flooding the room like the Red Sea after Moses and the Israelites crossed. Then the room turned quiet and someone turned on the TV. Mark finally stood up and stopped his conversation with Oliver. He picked up his notebook and his bag and walked to the door.
“Bye,” I said.
“Goodbye and Happy Thanksgiving!” he told me. Then I waved as he got into his car and drove down the road.
That was a very exciting Thanksgiving, and possibly the best one yet. This year, I’m waiting at the door, trying to guess who’s coming to dinner. The doorbell rings and I rush to the door. I wonder who’s coming to dinner?