The Boiling Point | ✔️

06 | show me

ASHTON

I pack my chef uniform in my backpack instead of wearing it out of the house. It's a miracle my dad let me go to this school in the first place, and with Clocul being the shining gem in this turd of a town, shoving this preppy uniform in a college dropout's face is just asking for trouble. I know there's resentment.

The locker room is empty when I rush in. I change fast and smooth out the wrinkles as best I can. Fortunately, since we only have to wear the uniform in the kitchen, the days where we start off with theory classes won't have to be like this. I catch up with the others right as they're filing into the kitchen, eager hands ready to get cooking.

We had the safety class in here yesterday, but it'll take me a while to get used to. It's a blur of stainless steel and top quality industrial equipment, everything you could need to cook whatever you want. Taking it all in makes a buzz of anticipation go through me.

"How fuckin' boss is this, guys?" Ryan, new in town, sidles in next to me and Nick. Shortly followed by Diego, another new one. They were both tailing after us yesterday like little ducklings. Well, I wouldn't call Ryan little. He's big and red-faced and blonde. Already clear he talks a lot of blustering bullshit too. Probably crazy fun to party with, though. 

I half-listen to Ryan and the others while I look around. Charlie's chatting to that new girl, Crystal. It's weird seeing Charlie in the uniform. Usually around seventy percent of her skin is exposed, even in winter. Her curls are pulled back into a low ponytail, a rule the girls have to follow so their hair stays out of the way while they cook. That's also weird to see on her.

The only times I've seen her hair out of her face before was when I was the one pulling it back.

She smiles when she catches me looking, Crystal following her gaze and dragging hungry eyes over me. Summer did exactly the same yesterday.

My eye contact breaks when Lola and Summer pass by me. Of course she'd gravitate to Lola. She's safe. A kind, cool-tempered person who shares those qualities just by association. The perfect friend for creating an illusion of being composed. That spitfire can only be stifled for so long. I give it till the end of the week until sweet little cupcake shows her true colors to the class.

Chef Kent enters the kitchen and hushes everyone down. On the demonstration table in the front, there's already multiple heaped crates with fresh vegetables. I'm mentally running through what recipes we're going to be using them in, my hands itching to do something cool.

"Today I'll be teaching you cutting techniques!"

A collective sigh of disappointment flies through the class as everyone seems to have their hopes crushed, but she raises her hands like she was waiting for that reaction.

"Yes, yes. I know you all want to jump right into complex recipes. Well it won't happen instantly; you have to start with the fundamentals before we move on," she explains, trying to ease our grumbles. "Now everyone choose a workstation before we begin, and make sure you're happy where you are. Your places are permanent for the year."

The rectangle workstations are in the center of the kitchen. Eight stations split into two well-spaced rows, each designed for a pair to work at. A stainless steel surface with a stove for one person, the same on the opposite side for the other. Nick and I claim our turf at the back, eagerly checking out all the equipment.

"Uh-uh, no. Don't think so, boys." Chef Kent interrupts our chatter, wagging her finger between us. "I can already tell this is going to be trouble."

"What is?"

"You two working across from each other."

I roll my eyes. "You don't even know us."

"I don't need to know you to see that you're friends, especially after your screwing around yesterday with the knife sharpening rods."