Finding Obsidian

34 - Voices In My Head

I was only snapped out of it when I heard the next number called. A quiet murmur rippled throughout the room. The familiar clack clack clack of dangerously high heels made its way to my ears. And Rikki was nowhere in sight.

Vanessa strode past our table, holding all three dishes while Jared walked ahead. His face held a cruel arrogance, as did hers. Truly a match made in heaven, I thought drily.

The dishes she was somehow balancing on her arms, however, were impressive. I couldn't see much as she stalked past me, but what I could spot looked top-of-the-top gourmet. I remembered having the same sensation when I'd first arrived at my study abroad, and everything seemed wildly out of my league.

But I'd come a long way since France. 

We waited patiently as they served their food. Rian's fingers were tapping incessantly, but I didn't understand why. He wasn't threatened by Bainbridge—he wasn't threatened by anybody. Why was he so on edge?

Finally, the screen flashed white. Their score appeared, and I scowled.

28 out of 30.

Jared smirked coldly as he descended the steps, Vanessa at his side. As she passed by, she grabbed my arm and yanked me towards her. I stifled my surprise and instead focused on ignoring the way her nails were digging into my forearm.

"What the hell, Vanessa?" 

"That feeling you have right now?" Vanessa hissed in response, her eyes alight with that same unsettling hysteria I'd seen earlier. "That inadequacy? Get used to it, Hanna. I won't let you win."

"Uh, not that I'm against a good catfight, but do you really think this is the time—"

"It never should have been you," she interrupted snarkily. "You don't deserve to be a chef. God knows why Prof recruited you in the first place."

I rolled my eyes. "You know, you sound a lot like a Disney villain right now. Or maybe a Mean Girl."

"What?"

"'Cause you're monologuing."

"Shut up! That stupid nonchalant attitude is why you don't deserve win," she replied angrily. I rolled my eyes again, just because this entire conversation was ridiculous. Other teams were starting to give us strange looks. "This hardly even matters to you. You shouldn't have been allowed anywhere near the ecomp!"

I only raised a brow, bored of her meaningless chatter. "Is that all? Because if it is, I have more important things to get back to."

She scowled and finally released me, but not before sending me another ugly glare. "Break a leg," she said snidely, and stalked off after her partner. 

"Ugh," I muttered, rubbing the fingernail imprints on my arm. I glared at her retreating back. "That's not even a chef saying. That's for theatre."

"You have interesting taste in friends," Rian remarked drily. I gave him a scowl of my own and didn't respond, content to instead watch and wait for our turn at the panel.

And it eventually came.

The announcer called for pair number 114. I shot one last look at our supporters in the stands before scooping up a dish, leaving Rian the other two. We strode by our other competitors swiftly, reaching the steps in a matter of moments. Finally, we stood before the judges.

"Ms. Hanna Jordan and Mr. Rian Aronhalt," the announcer called, but his voice faded into the background. I placed the first dish in front of the judge to my left, the woman from before, as Rian served Mr. Soo and Waddles.