Status: Complete
Revenge of the Peanuts
The Mission
"Dear Nancy Skizzorelli, It is my pleasure to inform you that you are eligible to join North Quincy High School's National Honor Society." The rest of the letter was boring formalities but when I read the one line that boggled my mind, well, my mind was….boggled. "Please gather the necessary ingredients for the creation of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for tomorrow's fundraiser for Peanut Allergies." Did anyone else think that was an awful way to raise awareness? Serving a peanut based product at a fundraiser for peanut allergies? Yeah…I thought so too.
The ingredients for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches….That was just peanut butter, bread, jelly and knives right? Well, that's what I thought. No. This was a charity fundraiser. I couldn't just get plain, ordinary products. No! I had to get the best! I had a very good friend from Italy whose parents were very homesick. She had a large backyard where she grew grapes and other vegetables that were native to Italy; how she grew them in Massachusetts with our crazy weather, I have no idea so don't ask. My mother and I quickly drove to her house on the west side of Massachusetts and as I rang her door bell, I could hear her family arguing.
"The grapes are not ripe!" exclaimed her mother.
"They are just right! They will go bad if they are not used soon!" her father proclaimed next. The door of their home opened and the smell of fresh Italian food wafted out of the door to bombard my senses.
"Nancy," my friend Isabella said as she smiled at me. "What brings you here?"
"I need fresh grape jelly for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."
"But--"
"Quickly, Isabella! Quickly!" The girl sighed and walked into her house, inviting me in.
"Mama, Papa, abbiamo bisogno di gelatina di uva!" Her parents quickly responded with the infamous, "perché" and I waved to them.
"It's very important. Sick people need your help and if you do this, your name will be on the jelly and you can sell it to get more money." The two Italians nodded to each other for a moment before nodding to me. They walked to the back of their house together and as I walked to follow them, they stopped me with a giant jar of jelly with their name on it.
"Questo è ciò che stai cercando, giusto?"
"Si, mom. That's what she needs." I smiled at Isabella and asked her parents for three more jars of jelly. My mother and I quickly got into our car and headed towards home.
"What else do you need?" my mother asked.
"Peanut butter and bread. Where do they grow peanuts?" My mother glared at me.
"The closest place is Virginia."
"What about bread?"
"Ohio."
"Can we--"
"No." I leaned back in my seat, deflated.
"How am I supposed to get fresh peanut butter and bread?" I demanded from her.
"Why do you want to get peanut butter? You're allergic." I stared at her and frowned.
"I'm going to throw this home made jelly in those National Honors Society peoples faces tomorrow." I declared as I crossed my arms over my chest and headed to the Stop and Shop for my mom to get bread and peanut butter that would, actually, kill me. I say again, what is the point of having peanut based products at a fundraiser for people like me who are allergic to peanuts!?
The ingredients for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches….That was just peanut butter, bread, jelly and knives right? Well, that's what I thought. No. This was a charity fundraiser. I couldn't just get plain, ordinary products. No! I had to get the best! I had a very good friend from Italy whose parents were very homesick. She had a large backyard where she grew grapes and other vegetables that were native to Italy; how she grew them in Massachusetts with our crazy weather, I have no idea so don't ask. My mother and I quickly drove to her house on the west side of Massachusetts and as I rang her door bell, I could hear her family arguing.
"The grapes are not ripe!" exclaimed her mother.
"They are just right! They will go bad if they are not used soon!" her father proclaimed next. The door of their home opened and the smell of fresh Italian food wafted out of the door to bombard my senses.
"Nancy," my friend Isabella said as she smiled at me. "What brings you here?"
"I need fresh grape jelly for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."
"But--"
"Quickly, Isabella! Quickly!" The girl sighed and walked into her house, inviting me in.
"Mama, Papa, abbiamo bisogno di gelatina di uva!" Her parents quickly responded with the infamous, "perché" and I waved to them.
"It's very important. Sick people need your help and if you do this, your name will be on the jelly and you can sell it to get more money." The two Italians nodded to each other for a moment before nodding to me. They walked to the back of their house together and as I walked to follow them, they stopped me with a giant jar of jelly with their name on it.
"Questo è ciò che stai cercando, giusto?"
"Si, mom. That's what she needs." I smiled at Isabella and asked her parents for three more jars of jelly. My mother and I quickly got into our car and headed towards home.
"What else do you need?" my mother asked.
"Peanut butter and bread. Where do they grow peanuts?" My mother glared at me.
"The closest place is Virginia."
"What about bread?"
"Ohio."
"Can we--"
"No." I leaned back in my seat, deflated.
"How am I supposed to get fresh peanut butter and bread?" I demanded from her.
"Why do you want to get peanut butter? You're allergic." I stared at her and frowned.
"I'm going to throw this home made jelly in those National Honors Society peoples faces tomorrow." I declared as I crossed my arms over my chest and headed to the Stop and Shop for my mom to get bread and peanut butter that would, actually, kill me. I say again, what is the point of having peanut based products at a fundraiser for people like me who are allergic to peanuts!?