SQUARE SPAGHETTI

CHAPTER 2

The Sweetest Mangoes are from Guimaras

TERENCE

A muffled cough sounded like a fart inside the room; the more you wanted it not to make a sound, the more it got everyone's attention.

But, nobody dared look around to see who did the intruding sound. Everyone stood like sentinels about to be judged for a crime they did not know.

In front of everyone strolled a petite but stern looking woman, not yet middle-aged but she was imposing to that point that she radiated an aura that simply commanded the room without even a single word.

I couldn't help but feel terrified. I may be 6'1" and towering over everyone else and Chef. Cristobal might reach only up to my chest but that did not take from the jitters that seemed to shake my very nerves. Beside me, Jake was still looking like he was drenched by a bucket of ice water.

Stupid boy, how could he have not known that the tricycle driver that took him to school was the school star basketball player, and my teammate. I'm pretty sure that I have mentioned Miguel's name at least once. But knowing Jake, he would not have been listening; as he usually didn't every time I talked jock talk. Them being together was still a mystery that I have to juice it out of him after this ordeal.

"So, freshmen class," the clipped voice of the professor slash chef finally spoke, I can literally feel a jolt of electricity travel from where she stool and ignite my very spine. I could see my classmates jerk. Hell has arrived.

I am Terence Imperial, I am one of the newest member of the university basketball varsity team, I am imposing, I am the boyfriend of the most beautiful girl in school ... and I am terrified.

"You have all been in this school for half a year," Miss Cristobal continued in a voice that could have sliced frozen butter, " In fact, you have been here for a trimester and a half. Am I right?"

"Yes, chef!" the class recited in unison like kindergarten.

"You still have half this trimester and the 3rd trimester to finish your freshman year."

"Yes chef!" I replied with my classmates. We were all nervous. We could all see Miss Cristobal taking out a brown paper bag from among the things she brought to class. Nobody dared question her what it was. I gulped, somehow I had a feeling this was already part of the practical test.

"Now, this institution has taught you the basic of cooking. None among you is a chef, yet. And for some, let me be brutally honest, but sad to say, you will never get to be chefs," her voice echoed across the laboratory. Bouncing across the pristine white tiles and rebounding back to each of our ears, those that were in front literally shivered. "But as long as you are in my class, I will make sure you soak up whatever you could from what I teach you and be decent cooks at the very least. No body that has ever been in my classroom, much less my kitchen, has ever failed in cooking. It may be a fact that only about 10% of them eventually became chefs but they all could cook."

I was trembling. I glanced at Jake who was on the same slab of marble that served as a cooking area as I did and saw that he was also tensed. Who wouldn't be?

I was sure that whatever was in that brown paper bag would be some exotic ingredient that we would all try to figure out how to cook. This was the first time that a practical examination was done individually, and with a time limit. I could hear the distinct sound of the clock; I couldn't wait to start, the suspense was killing me.