Chapter Text
You were laying on the green sofa of your grandma's house, looking at the ceiling daydreaming. That's how you had spent a lot of your time here in the US. Despite your mom being American, having all her friends and family there, it didn't hold her back from her childhood dream : Becoming a chef and for that, she went to France, where she met your father. Not long after they finally finished Culinary School, they got you. A little baby that grew up surrounded by the sounds of knives cutting through meat, the smell of freshly baken bread and the view of the client's smiles after taking their first bite. You already spend all your holidays in a kitchen, trying new recipes all day or just preparing some food for your family.
And that was a problem apparently.
Since cooking was all to you, you barely took time to make friends, deeming social interaction as something you can live without. It became almost an obsession for you, participating in any contest you could to improve your skills or challenging anyone that seemed better than you. So, to make you less fixated on that and more on living your child life, your parents had the idea to take you and your little sister in the US to see your mother's side of the family. It's been a while since you four went there, so seeing all your cousins, uncles, aunt and grandparents was amazing.
For the first two weeks, everything was going fine. Video Games, movies, family gathering and many other activities to keep your mind away from the stoves. But after that, it was just boring. You tried to bake some cookies once, but your father kept you away from the kitchen as far as humanly possible. So you find a new interest : Daydreaming.
At first it was about you becoming a renowned cheffe or you becoming a restaurant owner with 4 stars Michelin, hell you even wrote a book about cooking. Everything turned around food, again, and again, and again. Until your mind itself couldn't take it. You imagined yourself becoming a superhero, a singer, a spy, a journalist, and so many other jobs. That completely messed with you. Was becoming a cheffe really your dream ? Or was it because it was the only thing you were good at ? What if you didn't achieve it ? You don't have any backups, how would you survive ? So many "What if" that kept you awake at night.
One day, you eventually told your grandma. She was shocked that you had some sort of identity crisis at only 12.
"You know what honey ? I'll show you just what you need," she told you right after that.
And just like that, you were in her car, driving toward the community center. There, she gave cooking classes for beginners.
"You'll see darlin', there is a boy around your age, he cooks like he breathes ! Really talented !"
You laughed at that, "If that's true then I hope he is ready for the contest."
At that point you already had your fair share of it. What made most of the contestants loose wasn't their skills in itselves, but their ability to not succumb to pressure. And it wasn’t like they were experimenting, it was a beginner class after all. Yet, you couldn’t stop wondering if the boy your grandma talked about was that good.
"You'll see for yourself," she smiled, parking her old car in front of the building.
As you both walk inside the building, you can’t help but admire the multitude of activities proposed through posters. Knitting, martial arts, dancing, painting. There was room for anyone ! It made you wonder what other type of art you could do other than being in the kitchen all day. Your grandma spends her time greeting colleagues, presenting you as her grandchild “the prodigy”. Apparently, she already talks a lot about you on a daily basis because they were all more than happy to meet you. Shaking hands, hugging, jokes. A few minutes passed as all of them took their cup of coffee together while you were just vibing around with the adults kids. It was funnier than you expected. A guy and his sister around your age said they wanted to become MMA fighters, which lead to them fighting every two minutes, a girl wanted to join a rock band, to the disappointment of her mother who wanted her to be into classical music, or a guy that simply followed his mother since she didn’t want him to be left alone at home.
When it was time for both you and your grandmother to go, you begged her to let you go play with your new friends, “Please grandma ! It’s the first time I have such cool friends and I already know the recipe by heart ! Can I please go play with them ? I promise I’m gonna be as still as an image !”
Your grandma sighted. It was true that you already knew how to make a quiche, but still, she wanted to show you that cooking is something you should enjoy instead of hurting your mental health. Her arguments quickly shattered when you acted as a poor puppy.
“Fine you can go,” she said as she walked inside the room full of equipment and food. “But don’t go outside of here and I want you back in two hours”.
You kissed her cheek, thanked her, and after putting your bag inside the reserve, a little room connected to the cooking room, rushed toward your new friends. People were already coming inside to join your grandma but you didn’t care one bit. You didn’t care about the cooking, you didn’t care about baking, or anything related to that. You didn’t care so much that you ran into a young boy around your age.
“Can’t you watch where you’re going ?”
Your eyes met his as you utter an apology.
“Oh don’t worry young lady,” the man next to him, probably his father, said with a not well hidden joy. “It’s not a big deal, right Reese ?”
He patted his son’s shoulder. The boy named Reese (“not a usual name”, you noted) looked at you as if you were some sort of enigma, making you slightly frown in irritation. The young boy mutters an apology, much to the satisfaction of his father, and they finally leave for the cooking class.
“Well that was weird,” you thought as you joined your little friend group.
You were so excited to make new friends that you didn’t even think for a minute that the boy you just encountered was also the boy that your grandma praised, nor the slight blush that came across his cheeks when he looked at you one last look before entering the room.
.
.
.
.
You just had the funniest two hours with your new friends. Full of chats and laughter. It made you realize that friendship is amazing ! Nearly as much as cooking even ! But unfortunately for you, it was time to get back to your grandma. Even if she was as sweet as a chocolate cake, she could also be as harsh as pure cocoa and making her stressed over something as simple as being late would be your death warrant.
“Hey Cheffe !” Layla called out, running after you with McKayla. She was now at your level and smiled brightly. “We wanted to know if you'll come back around tomorrow. It’s exhausting to be the only sane person around”, she joked, receiving a punch from McKayla.
“Sure,” you nodded, “I mean, I still have to see you practice. Kayla and John's fight isn't as convincing.”
“Hey ! We told you, it was just a warm up,” McKayla defended herself as you three walked toward the reserve where you dumped your bag sooner.
You all laugh as you enter the room. Inside there was a huge glass that allowed you to see the kitchen. All of the people inside were fully focused on their tasks. It made the little fire in your stomach twist in envy as you watched them smile at the sight of their well cooked quiche and the laugh the contestant would share without any animosity.
“Ayo what is he doing ?”
The sudden sound of your friend’s voice burst your bubble as you looked at them with a curious look. 1 were both watching in the same direction, eyes wide with shock. You followed their gaze and it was your turn to gasp.
The same talented boy was messing with the other contestant’s creation ! Was he completely insane ? And it’s not like he was getting caught either ! He was waiting for the perfect opportunity to put a lot of salt in some mixture, or turn off the heat level of some ovens. He doesn’t even look bothered about his own ! He thought this was probably done. Well if he spent that much time on other people’s quiche, you were sure he wasn’t gonna break any records.
“I can’t believe it,” you whispered, boiling in rage.
Never in all those years of work have you seen such behavior. You already wanted to put him in his place and walked toward the door leading directly to the kitchen, but you were stopped in your tracks as you felt a hand on your wrist.
“What ?” You asked, irritated.
“Don’t intervin now little cheffe,” McKayla starts, “Something tells me he’ll meet Karma soon.”
“But it’s so unfair !” You argued, “Who do he think he is ? Why would he even do that ?”
Layla raises her shoulders in defeat. It was so weird ! Does he even know about empathy to do something so mean ?
You three stayed in front of the glass, watching his moves. By the end of the contest, you were sure that he didn’t leave one dish out of his wrath. He was truly a despicable person to your eyes. Your grandma went to his quiche with a big smile. She took a bite, and from the face of the boy and his father, she gave them a compliment, a very good one. Your frown as you see her turning toward the following contestant. As she tries her quiche, she says something, and the woman’s face decomposes.
“Too much salt,” you said out loud, your friends nodding.
As you keep watching, every contestant quiche had some kind of issue that put the kitchen in utter chaos. People trying to understand who messed with their dish, while the one in question, was fleeing the scene with his panicked father.
Since that moment, you swore to yourself that if you ever meet that boy, that Reese, you’ll put him back in his place. He was ‘talented’ ? He ‘cooks like he breathes’ ? Well, he’ll need to be armed with more than that if he was gonna put one foot in the same kitchen as you.
With you, he’ll learn what true competition is…