The Home Economics is my best class.

I was working with my classmate, Tabitha, whom I consider the most confident person I've ever met in my life. Her short blonde hair with red highlights stood out to me the moment we first met. I love her work ethic.

'Brooke, have you got the puff and short-crust pastry ready?' Tabitha is folding the filling gently.

'Yep. You can start adding the filling in.' I finish setting the last pastries into the tin.

We're making mini apple pies and going (decently) well. I help her start adding the filling at the shortcrust on the top.

Let's hope I didn't add a little too much nutmeg. I'm not trying to give the worst aftertaste to everyone else. We finish adding the filling and place the muffin tin in the preheated oven; sighing as we close the oven door.

'You're a lot more agitated than usual.' Tabitha noted, walking over to the sink.

'Is something going on?'

I force a smile. 'I have a little competition going on in my cooking club. Trying to get Head Chef to rub it in someone's face.'

'Ah, I see. I have a slight idea. You do have a competitive nature, Brooke. Which isn't a bad thing. Everyone is different. I wish you luck.'

'Thank you. I-I'll need it. I am the most qualified and the best person for the position. The other candidate is a nepotist.'

'So, I guess I am that nepotist.'

I turn around to see Derek, with an expression that screams you better take that back. However, I will not take that back or lose this battle.

'Indeed, you are, Mr Briggs.' I agreed.

'Ahh, I see. Ms Monet seems to mix up the difference between nepotism and talent. I think she should be educated about those differences.

That little...

I push back a box braid and cross my arms. 'Well, that's quite an assumption you have made about me. Is that a common thing? Make random assumptions about people you barely know. I wonder how you got friends.'

Derek rolls his eyes before looking back at me with a smirk that still pisses me off 'Well, I wonder how you are even qualifying for the position of head chef. Your pie seems to be close to exploding.'

I turn towards the oven to notice that he was right. A few of the pies of the far right were close to erupting.

'Should we take it out?' Tabitha asked me.

'No. Don't worry about those. The rest are fine, so we'll be okay.'

Did I add too much baking powder?

We didn't have enough all-purpose flour for the class so a few of us had to rely on plain flour mixed with 1/2 a tablespoon of baking powder. Even with the state, they are in now, I couldn't exactly do anything about it. If I opened the oven door, steam would pour out which interrupts the circulation that cooks the food in the first place.

So, I practically have to let them go with Derek's smug face greeting me when I eventually take them out.

As I predicted, as I got the pies out, half of them were picture-perfect while the other half looked like they came back from war. Derek's pies were all picture-perfect. The class swarm around him like a hive of bees around honey. Across the room, he sticks his tongue out at me.

Screw Derek and his good cooking skills.

The P.A. system goes off which alerts us to quiet down. It's the usual afternoon announcements that not only talk about events, and classes but also clubs.

'Good morning, students of Hollins Senior College. I am Sophie Jones, your local school president, presenting the afternoon announcements for today.'

I quietly turn off the oven and take off my apron, still listening for any time I hear the word "year 12" or "cooking".

Sophie went on to talk about exam week, year 10 and 11 camp and along with Year 12 Extracurricular Excursion which is either a plane trip or camp, which if I knew, I'm doing both.

'Now, onto the school clubs. Let's start with the culinary club.'

My ears perk up. This is the moment I'm waiting for. My eyes search for Derek and find him, already looking at me.

He sticks his tongue at me, and I do the same back.

'That position is mine.' I don't say it but rather mouth it.

He just stares and then tries to mouth something. I can't tell if he said, 'Hell no' or 'I know.'

Probably the latter.

'So, the person chosen for the position of the Year 12 Head Chef of the year is Mariah Fitzgerald. Congratulations.'

What? How?

The expression on my face isn't anger, or sadness, but rather a confusion. Derek looks at me, his face is just as confused as I am.

Neither Derek nor I got the position, but rather Mariah has only been in the club for 3 months.

***

'How did Mariah get that position?'

I'm in my bedroom and it's around 10 pm. My hair and clothes are in mess, mostly since I got home and fell asleep immediately. Leaving me messier than usual. I'm on the phone with Mama and ranting (as I usually do) about Mariah and the Head Chef position. The conversation is mostly in French because I can't be bothered to try and find some way to translate English slang.

'Ma, I don't know myself. I worked so hard for it, only for her to get it. I don't get it at all.' I kick my legs in the air as some kind of form of therapy.

'Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. You tried your best and that's all that matters.'

'Merci, mama.'

'No problem. But seriously, you're overreacting. You can still be a chef even without winning that Head Chef position.

I sulk sitting on my bed. 'I know. I would have preferred if I had beaten Derek. Well, I have already accepted this.'

'Doesn't sound like someone who accepts this? Must you be so hard on yourself? Everyone knows full well, how great you are. No need to get a position to prove that.

'You're right. Thanks, Mama.'

'No problem. Who's this Derek boy?'

I lay down. 'What?'

'That's the name I've been hearing lately. Derek did this, and he did that, and he is annoying and blah blah.'

'He's just some guy who I was competing against for the head chef title.'

'Doesn't sound like some guy. Every time we've talked lately, Derek is the name I hear all the time.'

'He's my enemy, Mama.'

I hear her heavy sigh. 'Brooke, this isn't 14th Century England. Calm down.'

'Alright then. He's my rival and I was supposed to beat him, but you know, Mariah got that position.'

'If he is your so-called enemy, wouldn't you be happy by the fact that he didn't get the position?'

'Oh. You're right. But that doesn't change the fact that I didn't win the position. Doesn't change a single thing.'