Any Way You Slice It Read Online Free Page B

looked over toward the counter. There was only one of Louie’s pre-made pizzas left, and the three remaining contestants showed no signs of slowing down.
    Someone’s going to have to make some more pizzas , Katie thought to herself. Then she realized that “someone” was her.
    This can’t be too hard , Katie tried to convince herself, as she picked up a ball of dough. I’ve seen Louie do this a thousand times .
    Katie floured the cooking board, and threw down a ball of dough. She pounded the dough just the way Louie did. Then she stretched out the dough, and tossed it gently in the air. Phew! She caught it.
    Katie threw the dough up in the air again. “Wow, this is fun!” she exclaimed as she caught it once again.
    Whee! Katie tossed the dough, higher this time, and twirled her body around in circles, just like Louie often did. But Katie wasn’t Louie. She had no practice in tossing pizzas. It wasn’t so easy to catch the dough as you twirled around.
    Plop! The pizza dough landed right on top of Katie’s head!
    Katie shivered as the thick, damp, raw dough stretched down slowly over her face. It felt all gooey and disgusting—like some sort of weird, edible Halloween mask.
    Suddenly, people started applauding. They thought it was a show—like the clowns outside Olives and Oregano.
    But Katie knew it wasn’t a show. It was a big mistake.
    Katie pulled the thick, gooey pizza dough from her head, and threw it in the trash. Then she reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a ball of dough. She floured the counter, and pounded the ball flat. Then she tossed the dough, ever so slightly—she wasn’t taking any chances this time.

    “Hey, Louie, how ’bout a song?” one of the audience members asked.
    Katie gulped. Louie always sang Italian songs while he made pizzas. Katie didn’t know any.
    “Yeah, come on, Louie!” Ian Camilleri called out.
    Katie racked her brain, trying to remember the words to one of Louie’s songs. But his songs were always in Italian. The words never meant anything to her.
    Finally, Katie sang the only song she knew that might work. She changed the words a little bit, just to make it seem more like something Louie might sing.
    “On top of pizza, all covered with cheese,” she began. “I lost my poor meatball while somebody sneezed.”
    The crowd started laughing.
    “Boy, Louie’s in a funny mood today,” Katie heard one teenage boy comment.
    “It rolled off the table,” Katie continued singing as she carefully ladled tomato sauce on the circle of dough. “And under a bush. And then my poor meatball was nothing but mush.” She sprinkled cheese on the pie.
    Katie looked at the finished pizza. It was kind of lopsided, more like an oval than a circle. But there was plenty of sauce and cheese on it. It didn’t seem too bad. She opened the oven door.
    “Hey, Louie, don’t forget your secret spices!” Ian Camilleri shouted out.
    A wave of panic washed over Katie. The secret spices! She had no idea what they were. Louie didn’t tell anyone what spices he used to make his pizzas different from the rest. That’s why they were called secret .

    But Katie had to do something. Everyone was staring at her. Frantically, she reached out and grabbed the first spice shaker she saw. She sprinkled a brown spice on top of the cheese and sauce, and slid the pizza in the oven.
    “That’s it for me,” a teenager named Jake Lawrence announced as he got up from the table and handed Katie his plate. “I give in.”
    The crowd applauded for Jake. Katie joined in. He’d eaten ten slices of pizza. That was a pretty good try.
    Now there were only two contestants left—Neal Flemming and Carolyn Evans. Katie placed more pizza slices on their plates, and watched nervously as the two competitors chowed down. Those were the last slices Louie had made himself. The next pie was the one Katie had thrown together.
    And judging from the strange, unfamiliar smell coming from the oven, that pie was not