Vanilla

Eighteen

"Everyone knows no one," said Si Yin, grabbing at the opportunity. "So I'm Xu Si Yin a first-year and if you have trouble saying my name, I have another one for you. Also, I honestly think LC picked me because of him," she jerked a thumb in my direction and all I could do was laugh nervously.

No one seemed to disagree with her opinion.

"If we know what we're good at, we can split tasks good," said the student across me, pale complexion and flawless skin surpassing any form of sparkling vampire fiction-writers have dreamed about. "I'm Pongsakorn Fhaumnuaypol but people call me Bank. I am Thai. I am also quite old."

Rosi dismissed his introduction with a wave. "You're only three years older than most of us. Two years for Nabila but anyway—"

"Why's your nickname 'bank'?" Si Yin fired away, earning herself a glare from her direct senior but remaining completely oblivious to everything around her. This, I'd long gotten familiar with. "Is it spelled b-a-n-k, like the place you get money and put money in?"

Bank nodded. "My parents like money... I'm in horse-riding by the way. LC told me to look after his horse when you bite your tongue that day. No one ever touch his horse before... I think he like you a lot."

I raised a hand to stop him from going any further, smiling nevertheless so as to maintain a civil and harmonious group dynamic. Still, I was beginning to see why we were picked; understand the thought he'd put into this and rationale behind each and every member of the team. Admittedly, this line-up wasn't too bad at all. We were each sufficiently different in terms of background and culinary knowledge despite being made up of mostly six reds. Most importantly, all of us were familiar with the use of heat and spices in our respective cuisines—which paved a solid foundation for exotic and complex Brazilian recipes in the middle of the Amazonas. But was I so generous as to give him the credit for predicting the exact theme and requirements of the cross-year or simply attribute this all to his characteristic style of on-the-spot winging it?

Hm.

"I am aware of what the rest of the school thinks of me, thank you very much," I said to Bank. "But I'd like to request that our first impressions of each other be formed with direct, personal contact and not established through hearsay or, well, rumours. I'm very pleased to meet you all and am looking forward to working with you. Oh, and please call me Julian—"

"Yeah," oh good god, he's back so quickly. "I know you."

I turned, making space so that we weren't standing shoulder-to-shoulder. "Well, Leroy, not everyone's you, so. Oh and perhaps you'd like to introduce yourself too, since your name has apparently been changed to 'I make bad decisions.'"

The team captain snorted, filling the gap in our circle of members. "I like taking risks."

"A little too much," I pointed out before noting that the conversation was turning a little too personal for comfort. "And? Any news you'd like to tell us?"

He took this to the group and, in a matter of seconds, seemed like an entirely new person from my perspective. After all, I'd never had the chance to see him lead up close. This close, specifically; not just staring after an empty back and yet, I had to admit—there was nothing surprising about him being good at it.

"Locations, ingredients, equipment: determined by lots," he began. All eyes were fixed on him at once. "Draw a 'one' and you get a grill, spices, pans. There's even a hunter if you have rabbit or deer on your menu, and you get access to the village fields and food garden. 'Four' is the opposite—"

The shrill screech of Keith's mic cut him short, turning heads and raising palms to ears. The emcee himself seemed to regret tapping the head of his microphone. "Sorry. Sorry people. Okay, so I've just got some new info from the board featuring last-minute additions to the rules, so. This might be unfamiliar with some of you but we're going to have to draw lots one more time. Only the captains. One to four.