Prue found the cookie on the blue plate.
It was the last one. Round and golden brown, with exactly five chocolate chips on top. She counted them. One, two, three, four, five.
Prue picked it up. It was warm. It was hers.
Then she heard footsteps.
Her little brother Jude came running into the kitchen. His socks slid on the floor — whoooosh — and he bumped right into the table.
"Cookie!" said Jude.
"MY cookie," said Prue.
Jude looked at the blue plate. Empty. He looked at Prue's hand. Full.
His bottom lip got wobbly.
"There's no more," said Prue. She held the cookie a little closer. She could smell it. Butter and sugar and warm, warm chocolate.
Jude didn't say anything. He just stood there with his wobbly lip and his big, big eyes.
Prue walked away. She went to the living room and sat on the puffy green couch. She held the cookie with both hands.
She could eat it right now. One big bite. Done.
She opened her mouth wide.
But she didn't bite.
She kept thinking about Jude's face. That wobbly lip. Those big, big eyes.
"It's MY cookie," she told the couch.
The couch didn't say anything. Couches never do.
Prue looked at the cookie. Five chocolate chips looked back at her. She turned it a little. She turned it some more.
Then she got an idea.
Prue marched back to the kitchen. Jude was still standing by the blue plate, one finger poking at the crumbs.
"Jude," said Prue. "Watch this."
She held the cookie up high so he could see it — round and golden and whole.
Then she broke it.
SNAP.
Right down the middle. Two pieces. One was a little bigger. One was a little smaller. A chocolate chip broke in half too, and a tiny crumb fell on the floor.
Prue looked at the big piece. She looked at the small piece.
She gave Jude the big piece.
Jude's eyes went wide. His wobbly lip turned into an enormous smile — the kind that takes up a whole face.
"COOKIE!" he yelled.
He shoved the whole piece into his mouth. All at once. His cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. Crumbs went everywhere — on his shirt, on his chin, on his socks, on the floor.
"JUDE!" said Prue. But she was laughing.
She looked down at her piece. The small one. Three chocolate chips. A jagged edge where the snap had been.
She took a bite.
It was warm. It was buttery. The chocolate melted on her tongue, slow and sweet.
It was the best bite of cookie she had ever tasted.
Jude was still chewing. He had chocolate on his nose. How did he get chocolate on his nose?
He walked over to Prue and leaned against her arm. His hands were sticky. His cheek was sticky. Everything about Jude was sticky.
"Thank you, Prue," he said, except his mouth was full so it sounded like dank oo, Pooh.
Prue wiped the chocolate off his nose with her thumb.
Then they stood together in the kitchen, the blue plate empty, the crumbs on the floor, and Prue felt something warm in her chest that had nothing to do with cookies.
She licked the last bit of chocolate off her finger.
Jude licked the last bit of chocolate off his whole entire hand.
And the blue plate sat on the table, empty and happy, waiting for tomorrow.
