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Cooking Complex (Hollins)

1: Not The Only One

1: Not The Only One

Jun 30, 2023

It's back.

I knew that this day would eventually come but I've been in denial for so long.

The tarantula bastard.

Maybe I can kill it in one hit and call it a day? But for the life of me, no bone in my body is willing to move closer to this hairy bastard.

Come on Brooke. The French part of your family —your cousins and uncles — practically own a zoo. Surely living in Australia all your life gives you some kind of confidence with venomous animals.

I knew that was a hoax as much as anyone else.

I slowly stand up from the floor, making sure that my foot- steps are light and that I don't make him move. I've got to get one of my thongs and slap him out of existence. Quickly I move to the side of the bed, watching the spider slowly crawl to the corner of the wall.

I feel my skin tense as I grab my thong and take a step slowly towards the spider. Feeling adrenaline as I inch closer and closer towards the spider.

Yesterday's consequence slaps me in the face, as I literally trip over my jumper on the ground. Falling to the ground with a thud; back first. I wince in pain as I slowly sit myself up to notice that the tarantula is gone.

Jesus.

I check the time

8:10 am.

Crap. I'm not going to be late to school all because of Mr Harry Legs.

I hop out of bed. Quickly undressing, I hop into the shower and turn the tap for hot water. Only for it to be cold. No sign of warm water. I sigh, frustrated, and scrub myself clean using coconut body wash.

Finish rinsing and closing the tap, I cover myself and brush my teeth as fast as possible. Quickly drying myself I decide on my style for the day:

Casual and chilly.

A yellow crochet cardigan paired with a plain white t-shirt and high-waist jeans. High-laced converse with short black socks and a beige cross-body bag.

Finish up with medium size hoop earrings.

Leaving my bedroom, I get my car keys and lock the house behind me. Hopping into my car, I turn the ignition and drive down the street to my favourite place in Hollins.

Byron's Beverages.

Arriving at the store, I see Byron chilling on the balcony, waiting for me.

'Here you go, mate. Try not to be late!' He shouts running up to my car and handing me my latte.

'Thanks, Bear! I'll rock up later to pay you back.' I say before reversing and driving myself to school.

Arriving and parking on campus grounds, I leave my car and

Hopping into my car, I turn the ignition and drive down the street to my favourite place in Hollins.

Byron's Beverages.

Arriving at the store, I see Byron chilling on the balcony, waiting for me.

'Here you go, mate. Try not to be late!' He shouts running up to my car and handing me my latte.

'Thanks, Bear! I'll rock up later to pay you back.' I say before reversing and driving myself to school.

Arriving and parking on campus grounds, I leave my car and go down a crowded hallway trying to head to Maths.

Scuttling past people, I notice that I'm not the only person who is in a rush today. At least, I can have this latte in class.

Just as that thought passes through my mind, I get pushed towards the left and my drink slips out of my hand and landing right on a guy's chest, splattering over his light hoodie.

Oops.

'What the...what is this stuff!' he exclaims as the coffee cup rolls on the ground. He lifts his drenched hoodie, sniffing it and grimacing.

As he looks up from his hoodie, I couldn't help but notice something. He has the perfect eye shape. Cheekbones and is one of the few guys I've met in this school who has acne and doesn't look all that bad. I can't tell if he's taller than me or if that's just my imagination. The caffeine from my latte was enough to snap me back to reality.

Not now, Brooke. Priorities. You literally spilt a drink on this guy.

'I-It's a Cinnamon Latte. Sorry, bud.' I say before picking up the cup and getting out my tissues, attempting to dry the hoodie.

'Watch where ya going. Dammit, this one was my favourite.' He squirms out of my reach and shakes his head, walking off in anger before I can say anything else.

But feeling guilting is not my top priority — Maths is. Chucking the plastic cup in the bin, I run upstairs and head to Room 101. Parked conveniently close to the staff room and the principal's office where Principal Walters stays to avoid me.

Making it just in time for Maths, I sit in the middle seat, right behind my bestie, Mariah.

'Hey Mare,' I say breathing heavily. 'I made it.'

'Good for you, sweetie,' she turns and gives me a bright smile that falters when she sees me 'Are you doing fine? You have eye bags.'

'Yeah. I had that dream about my Father again.'

She purses her lips, judging me with her eyes. 'Hurry up and go talk to a therapist or something. You can't keep ignoring this dream.'

'I know. But I don't want to be a pain to Mum.'

'Suit yourself. You heard what I've said though.' Mariah remarks before facing back to the front.

As my Maths teacher walks in, thoughts of a therapist run through my head. I don't think Father had a therapist, so I shouldn't either. 


doremitea21
Deni Mariah

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Dear Professor Neuman,

I believe that the position of Head Chef of the Year is an important award that should be earned through hard work. Having the student, Derek Norman, with no evidence of a cooking background (other than taking a Food and Hospitality course for the past 2 years but that doesn't count) be allowed to join the club all because of his nepotistic connection to Professor Neuman isn't fair. I believe that you should reconsider this and not select Derek Norman for the position of Head Chef of the Year.
I expect that you will consider.

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Brooke Monet
Year 12 Student at Hollins Senior College
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1: Not The Only One

1: Not The Only One

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