𝓛𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓽𝓼

I can hear the student remark, "I did my best," echoing inside the empty hall, and I'm positive her voice is familiar to me.

 
I peer through the slightly open door, and my suspicions are correct. Not that I'm surprised; after all, there's only one person in this section with a penetrating voice that irritates you like that. What else could it be? If not the proud, miss-perfect millionaire’s daughter, Abike.
 

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” I reprimand myself, but I secure my feet on the ground, not moving an inch.

 
“I expected you to do better!” I can hear the chef yell again. “What will I say to your dad, huh?” In asking this question, the words mirror the heavy disappointment in his heart.
 

"Who is this chef to Abike?" I soliloquize, posing a perplexing question whose solution piques my interest.

 
“Tell him whatever you like; I don’t care. All I care about is how you are going to help me win that trip to California.” She asserts herself with so much confidence.
 

Then, a memory of Mr. Collins words before the commencement of our practical examination  resurfaced.“Mr. Collins is so wrong; it’s not just an exam; as far as there is a reward attached to it, it is a bloody competition.” I whisper it heatedly. Confirming my earlier thoughts
 

"Abike, your cooking stinks; compared to every other student who took this exam, yours received a zero. It's that horrible. Why don't you know how to cook at your age? Of course, you have every maid your father's money can buy to look after you. It's too bad they can't assist you here. The true query should be, Why did you enroll?" He begs, as if in joking, "To show your father that you are more capable of taking over the hotel?"
 

“Don’t tempt me, Chris; need I remind you that it is my father’s connection that got you to where you are now?" Abike revolts angrily.
 

This is juicy stuff. I smile. “They are closer than I thought.” I whisper, pressing my ears forward to hear more.
 

Chris keeps quiet for a while, then when it looks like he has found words, he voices, “There is only little I can do for you; my hands are tied. Even if I manage to convince Mrs. Elizabeth Wright to consider you, Mr. Ofure, on the other hand, is an impervious man. That man is as hard as they come.” Chef Chris explains evenly.
 

“You have worked with him before; I’m sure he can bend.” Abike suggests before folding her arms below her bosom.
 

I hear him snigger. "Yes, I’ve worked for him before; that’s how I know he won’t bend. And if I press hard on the issue, he will make sure you fail. He is a disciplined and God-fearing man.” Chris adds, probably hoping she will understand his worries.
 

“Well, at least Mrs. Wright will bend.” She raises her left shoulder as she speaks, an action that further upsets the chef.
 

"She might, and she could perhaps even tell you she will." But she wants to make sure Mr. Ofure agrees first; otherwise, she may be in a lot of trouble, including losing her job. Nothing is final unless it has been approved by Mr. Ofure." He informs her.
 

“But she’s his superior.” Standing here, it is easy to conclude that Abike is desperate, yet the inner workings of the school's management team are not in her favor.
 

“And he is family.” His reply to Abike is sharp and immediate.
 

“With whom? You?” She criticizes him, laughing hard at him.
 

“With Mr. Greg, the owner of this institution, Mr. Ofure is married to his little sister.” He concludes.
 

"Must I do everything myself? I don't know why my father thought you could help; you are useless and not useful to me," she exclaims angrily. Now I believe I must make friends with the higher-ups, possibly the H.O.D." Abike screams, enraged at both the cook and herself.
 

“Mr. Ofure is the only higher-up you’ve got; good luck with that.” Chris replies painfully.
 

"Arrrgh!" Her scream threatens to collapse the corridor. "Act useful, Chris, or else I'll tell my dad to take away your little job." She smacked his chest hard, causing him to take a step back.
 

“You can’t.” He dares.
 

“Don’t test me.”

732 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘