When it was time to present, I stood by my dish, my heart hammering against my ribcage, as Professor Hawthorne approached. The silence stretched on for what felt like forever. I watched him closely, searching for any sign of approval. Then he spoke, so quietly I almost didn’t catch it. “A+.”
Abby The silence in the room is thick with tension as we wait for Logan’s verdict. Vanessa’s and Xavier’s praises still echo in the back of my mind, but it’s Logan’s opinion that really seems to hold the weight of the world. I can’t explain why, but it somehow feels as though Logan’s opinion hol
Abby Logan’s smirk unsettles me. It feels as though he somehow has the upper hand in a game I didn’t even know we were playing. “I don’t understand, Logan. What are you talking about?” My voice is steady, but inside, I feel anything but. Logan leans against the door frame, casual as ever. “Ken
My smile wavers as I turn away, my mind still on Logan’s words. Hasn’t your sous chef told you? The question echoes in my mind, over and over, like a broken record on repeat. As I busy myself with doling out the coffee, my eyes keep flicking to Karl. He’s listening to a story of Vanessa’s, laughin
Abby “Abby, I…” Karl’s voice wavers ever so slightly, his words trailing off. There are a few moments that feel like an eternity as his eyes dart around the room, and I feel like I can’t take it anymore. “Karl, just say it!” His eyes widen slightly as my voice raises an octave, but I’m not b
Karl The drive home feels like an eternity, each passing minute melting into the next. I can’t stop thinking about how I left Abby’s house, with nothing but a stiff hug and a half-smile. Abby’s words, or rather, her lack of words, continue to echo in my mind as I drive. I thought she might react
Abby The morning sun warms my tired body as I step out of my apartment. Chloe and Leah are waiting outside so we can all walk to work together, leaning against the wrought iron fence outside my apartment. “There’s the star chef,” Chloe says, pushing away from the fence as I approach. She’s weari
Abby I’m still clutching my phone so tightly that my knuckles are probably turning white. I’m standing in the middle of the cold storeroom, my hands shaking slightly as I wait for Mr. Thompson’s verdict. “I’ve called to inform you of the results from last night,” he says. “First of all, I hope y