Finding Obsidian

34 - Voices In My Head

He looked at our three plates appraisingly. "Maybe I really should have gone to MIT."

I glanced at the judge panel distractedly. "Yeah. You should have," I muttered in response. "At least then you wouldn't be here."

The knife stopped twirling. "Oh, here?" he taunted. "Helping you win, you mean?"

"We haven't won yet." My response was curt, and curbed any further conversation. Now that we were done, I didn't want to talk.

I gave Vanessa's team a sidelong glance, and felt a surge of unease when I found her already watching me. She gave me another wolfish grin and a salute. The knife was still in her hand.

What was it with everyone and the knives today?

The voice of the announcer dragged my attention from her, but my unease persisted. "The judges will be proceeding according to the number attached to the tag at each table. When your number is called, you may come up to the panel and serve your dish."

Rian and I simultaneously looked at our name-tag, and I stifled a groan. There were one hundred and fourteen contestants at the ecomp this year. And we'd just happened to get lucky number 114.

We were going last.

"Well, this is gonna be a delightful wait," I muttered irritably. I watched as the first group was called, some nameless pair from a third-rate school. My nose wrinkled as they passed. Was that fish?

Rian chuckled darkly nearby. My eyes cut to his in surprise. "You still hate fish?" he asked amusedly. Apparently he'd caught me surveying the competition.

I scowled in response. "Yeah. Fish are nasty."

"But you like sushi," he said matter-of-factly.

My scowl deepened. It irritated me that he still had access to all that knowledge from when we were friends, even though we were as far from friends as possible. "That's because sushi is good. And it's more than just fish."

"It's healthy to have a balanced diet."

"It's also healthy not to eat stuff that smells like feet."

He gave a short laugh. "True enough, I suppose." He smirked at me, but it wasn't as smug as before. "It's just a shame that I won't get to see you grow taller before I go."

Normally, any mention of my height would have had me ready to punch someone. But this time I simply averted my eyes. "I guess not."

We fell into silence after that. The line passed along. I waited with growing nerves as the contestant number on the board increased, getting closer and closer to 114. 

It seemed that after each pair went up to serve their food, the judges would sample a tiny taste and question them about it. After that they'd receive a score, which would be featured on an enormous screen above the panel. The average score was around 20 out of 30. Small fries.

I couldn't quite hear what the questions were, though, and I wasn't exactly looking forward to staring into Waddles' smug face and failing them. My thoughts drifted to imagining every possible way I'd be humiliated. It was good stuff.