by Obert Skye
Aaron also called whisking “super stirring,” and he thought broiling meant to roll things in nuts. The only real advantage we had was that all of us were incredibly average, and according to the name of the show, that was what was most important.
My friends came over to my house around noon for last-minute questions and one final pep talk. I tried to say things that would rally them and get them fired up for the competition.
Trevor looked slightly pumped up, and Jack called me a cooking nerd. The rest of my friends seemed too nervous to say anything. I knew none of them really wanted to do this, but they all felt obligated because of Janae and her friends challenging us. Jack kept insisting …
And I kept telling him that all he would have to do was just stand there and chop things or clean bowls. Rourk had other concerns.
I put my head in my hands and sighed. I had already told Rourk ten times that there would be no latex involved, but he still kept asking. Besides, he wasn’t really allergic to latex—he was just scared of balloons.
Teddy was doing this for the dough.
They all knew that today was just the tryouts and that there was no money involved. I had told them a hundred times that if we won the tryouts, then we would be on the actual show and then maybe we might win ten thousand dollars.
Trevor started to lecture Jack about saving his money while the others argued over whether or not they should buy a solid gold car or a solid gold plane.
I couldn’t think about any of that. I just wanted to make it through the day without looking worse in front of Janae. This wasn’t supposed to be about selfish things like money or monkeys. This was supposed to be about me looking awesome in front of Janae.
To make things even more troublesome, my mom was gone doing something with Tuffin so she couldn’t drive us to the tryouts. That meant my dad would have to do it. Don’t get me wrong—I love my dad, but he drives like my grandma’s great-grandma.
I don’t think he’s ever put the pedal to the metal. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever really pushed the gas pedal down. It always feels like we’re crawling when he’s at the wheel. Once, when I needed to get to the store to buy some shoes that were on sale, he drove so slow that by the time we got there I was out of luck.
So it made me uneasy to know that we were going to be dependent on my father to get us to the tryouts on time. The rules to the competition clearly stated that any team that wasn’t there by the start time was automatically eliminated.
I grabbed my backpack and my recipes, and we all loaded into our huge van. My dad pulled out of the driveway and began to drive in the wrong direction. I knew the Civic Center was near the small hills, and we were heading away from them.
My heart passed out. I hated my dad’s quick stops—they were never quick. In fact, his quick stops were a big reason he was always late.
I couldn’t talk my dad out of his quick stop, no matter how hard I tried. He needed to drop off a swing at a park on the other side of town. One of their swings was broken, and he had promised to deliver a new one today. I begged and pleaded with him to go to the tryouts first, but he kept saying …
When we arrived at the park, my dad got out his toolbox and took off the broken swing. He then attached the new one and asked me to test the swing to make sure it worked.
By the time we got back into the van, there were only twenty-five minutes until the tryouts started, and we were at least twenty-six minutes away. Even Jack was growing anxious.
Despite being in a hurry, my dad drove five miles under the speed limit while whistling. Also, every school zone we went through, he slowed down even more. I rubbed my eyes out of frustration. It was Saturday, and the schools weren’t even in session, but he insisted on going slow anyway.
I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and moaned. The tryouts started in ten minutes, and we were at least fifteen minutes away. Trevor suggested we all cry to make my dad go faster. It wasn’t the best plan, but it was all we had. But our wailing and complaining didn’t seem to faze my father in the least. He just kept whistling and talking as if there was no urgency at all.
My dad stopped the car completely while we waited for a train to cross in front of us. I was thinking about pulling my hair out when I felt something tap my right foot. I looked down, and there, peeking out of my backpack, was Hairy. I had brought him only because he had promised to stay hidden. I motioned for him to get back in, but instead of listening, he pulled out his right hand and lifted up his wand. He pointed it toward my dad’s head and mumbled something. Strong red sparks flew out of the end of the wand, and instantly my dad’s glasses fogged up.
I looked at Hairy and panicked. I wasn’t sure how my dad being blind would help the situation. To make things scarier, all the van windows began to fog up too. The van grew dark, and there was no sign of an outside world. I could feel my seat rock and then, with a swift forward motion, I felt the entire van being lifted. My body pressed back into my seat as the vehicle lunged forward. Everyone was screaming and crying for real now.
My dad seemed oblivious to it all. He took off his glasses and was wiping the lenses with his tie. Since he couldn’t see very well with his glasses off, he didn’t even notice the fogged-up windows or the fact that we seemed to be flying—which was weird, because it felt like we were soaring miles above the earth.
A few seconds later, we could feel the van drop and touch the ground. We all bounced in our seat belts as the vehicle came to a sudden stop. Instantly the windows cleared up, and I could see that we were parked out in front of the civic center. My dad finished cleaning his glasses and put them back on.
My friends and I caught our breath. I looked down at Hairy as he slipped back into my pack. I felt sick, exhilarated, and nervous all at the same time. Part of me had been hoping to be late and be disqualified so I wouldn’t have the chance to fail.
We all stumbled out of the van and into the Civic Center.
CHAPTER 15
ABOVE AVERAGE
Inside the civic center, everybody was running around. The noise was as loud as when my sister blow-dries her hair and sings with the radio turned up.
We checked in thirteen seconds before the cutoff time. Following that, a lady with tall black hair gave us all name tags and showed us on a map where we would be stationed.
The tryouts were being held in a huge room that had mirrors on the far wall and large buzzing lights hanging from the ceiling. At the front of the room was a stage with two potted plants on it. I could see Principal Smelt and his band setting up on the left side of the stage near the bathrooms.
There were a lot of other teams participating in the tryouts, and the tables were lined up in rows with dividers between them. Each table had a mixer, an oven, and a few knives and spices. There was also a box with the words average ingredients written on it.
Because we were the last team to show up, we were put at the last table in the far corner. Janae and her team were right across the aisle at station 36. Janae was there with five other girls. Three of the girls were the Dodge triplets—Pixie, Patsy, and Petra. I had never really gotten along with the triplets. They were cranky and always together. Whenever they walked down the halls at school, they held hands and wouldn’t get out of anyone’s way. I’ve been shoved up against the lockers more than once by them squeezing me to the side.
Not only were the Dodge triplets cranky, but their dad owned a catering business, so they probably were pretty good cooks. Janae’s team had matching aprons and rubber gloves. There was even a banner on the front of their table with their chosen team name.
Both our tables were at the far end of the room near the mirrored wall. Music started to play, and everyone began to clap as the host of Average Chef, Chad Average, walked up onto the stage. The stage was so far away from us that we couldn’t really see. Luckily, there were TVs we could watch on the walls in the back. Chad Average waited for the clapping to stop and then shouted …
I thought all my friends knew what
to shout …
My friends stared at me like I was crazy. Chad Average clapped and then held his hands up to quiet all the tables. He told us we had one hour to make the best food we could, using the eight average ingredients in our boxes. At the end of the hour, a judge would taste our meal. The two highest-scoring teams would be featured on the Average Chef TV show in two weeks.
The contestants put their hands on the top of their boxes and counted down with him. I then lifted the lid, and we all looked in.
The ingredients were simple and every table had the same ones. There were no real surprises in the box. I was already thinking of a few things we could make. But before we could start, we needed to know which of the eight average items we were supposed to focus on. I was hoping it would be the bacon, but I was wrong.
There was a huge groan from everyone in the room. Water was the most boring item in the box. There was no way to make water anything but plain. Rourk had a suggestion.
As much as I could see the wisdom in what he was saying, I wasn’t going to quit and let Janae and her team beat us.
The host shouted, “Let’s all aim for average,” and then rang a bell. The competition was on. Everyone around us instantly began to chop and wash food as Principal Smelt and his band started to play music.
It was lame, but it was probably one of their best songs. I opened my backpack to get my recipes, and there was Hairy, smiling and waving his wand.
I had no time to mess with him, so I told him to keep quiet, grabbed my recipe cards, and zipped him back in. I flipped through the cards and found two recipes that I thought we could use—a soup and a salad. We didn’t have all the ingredients, but I figured with some creativity, we could make them work. Everyone seemed okay with my choices.
Teddy crushed up crackers. Rourk sifted flour. Aaron took the apples and started to peel them while Jack worked on chopping up some lettuce. Trevor and I mixed flour and egg together and created some dough. Time was flying, and after twenty minutes, all we had were some piles of chopped things and a wad of sticky dough.
I looked over at Janae’s table. She and her team were whisking and measuring like they were food fairies. Everything looked so peaceful and happy at their table.
I threw some croutons in the oven to bake, then began mixing some of the chopped food together. A lady with a microphone and big teeth stopped by our table and began to ask questions. The microphone seemed to make us all nervous, so we just stood there smiling.
The big-toothed lady tried asking another question. We just kept smiling. Only Aaron found the courage to speak up. Of course, he didn’t really answer the question.
The lady didn’t look too impressed with us. She left and went to talk to Janae’s table.
I put my head down, and we all kept on working. Before I knew it, an alarm rang announcing that there were only ten minutes left.
I pulled out two plates and set them on the table. I then looked at the oven. The croutons I was baking weren’t quite done, and the bacon on the stove was still way undercooked.
The room seemed to sway and then come to a complete stop. Then everything froze, and there was no longer any sound. The question lady was frozen mid-stride, and I could see pepper and other ingredients floating in the air. I seemed to be the only thing moving. I looked around, and Hairy popped up on the table waving his wand and smiling.
Somehow Hairy had stopped time; his spells were getting so much stronger. The only noise now was the sound of our bacon frying. Everything except for me, Hairy, and what I was cooking remained frozen.
I wanted to be excited, but I knew there was probably some rule about contestants not being allowed to stop time. I looked at Janae’s team. They were all frozen.
I stared at the mirrored wall next to us, and for some magical reason, my reflection was doing something odd in the mirror. It looked like I was walking over to Janae and dumping a huge pile of salt into the food she was making. I wasn’t actually doing it, but the mirror seemed to be showing me what I wanted to do.
It was just like the mirror of Erised at the end of Harry Potter. I looked down at the salt shaker on my table. I picked it up and thought about how easy it would be to ruin the food Janae and her team were making. The problem was I liked Janae way more than I wanted to win this stupid cooking contest. There was just no way I could do that to her. I set the salt shaker down and sighed. My reflection seemed mad at me for chickening out.
Hairy spotted his own reflection, and the Chewbacca part of him started snarling. He growled at himself and then ran as fast as he could, slamming up against his own reflection.
As Hairy fell to the ground, his wand sparked, and like a film speeding up, time began to move again. I grabbed Hairy and shoved him back into my pack and then stood up and tried to look innocent. The bacon in my pan was now perfectly cooked, and the croutons were done. I was going to spend more time marveling over what had happened, but I was interrupted by Chad Average announcing …
My friends and I began throwing things together. I took the croutons out and pulled the bacon from the stovetop. We put some of the chopped lettuce in a row, and Trevor tried to shape it like a big piece of bacon while I put some chopped apples and bacon in a bowl and poured water over it.
Teddy mixed some gelatin with water, and we dripped it over the salad as Rourk and Aaron made a decorative ring of jam around the soup bowl while Trevor added pieces of fried egg to the apple, bacon bits, water soup. Jack was in charge of the silverware and he had forgotten it. He started freaking out about us missing our spoons and forks, so I had to calm him down.
Jack actually smiled and came up with a solution with only two seconds to spare.
We all threw our hands up. I looked at our plates and thought we just might have a chance. I was pretty certain what we had made didn’t taste great, but it looked okay.
We glanced over to see what Janae and her friends had made. I don’t want to sound braggy, but ours looked way better. In fact, it looked like they hadn’t finished. One of their plates was okay, but the other one only had peas on it.
I glanced at Janae as she stood there frowning. She looked at her food and sighed. I felt bad for her. I was extra glad I hadn’t dumped that salt on her food. Jack pointed at their practically empty plate.
I don’t know why I did what I did next. I mean, it was a competition, and I wasn’t supposed to talk to the enemy, yet for some reason my legs started to move without my permission. I walked out from behind our table and up to Janae’s. The triplets growled at me as I congratulated Janae.
Janae smiled at me. A bald judge with a tiny nose came over and tasted Janae’s food. The judge seemed to like it, but then marked them down because they were missing part of their meal.
The bald judge then came to our table and tasted ours. I’m not positive, but I don’t think he liked what we made.
He called our food disgusting, bland, and chewy before running off. We then stood around until it was time for the results. After all the tables had been judged, Chad Average walked back up onto the stage to announce the two winning teams. The first team to win was a table of women who were all wearing red hats. They had made bread boats in jam and swamp water salad.
I personally think the red-hat ladies cheered louder than was necessary. It took a while for Chad Average to calm them down. Once they finally left the stage, Chad read off the second and final winner.
I couldn’t believe they had called my name. I thought after the way the judge had gagged and run off, that we didn’t have a chance. I looked at my friends. All of them seemed equally confused. Trevor’s eyes widened, and he pointed toward the stage. I was so shocked by what I saw that my mouth dropped and all my fingers fell to the floor.
It wasn’t me that had won. It was a different Burnside.
Tuffin and my mom were the second winning team. I had no clue they were even in the contest. They had been at station 3. My mom had gladly included Tuffin on her team. In fact, it was Tuffin’s ideas that had won
it for them.
I wanted to be mad, but for some reason, I was proud of Tuffin. I figured if it couldn’t be me that people adored, it might as well be my little brother. Everyone clapped wildly as they put a chef’s hat on Tuffin and knighted him with a spatula.
I never found out if our food was any good, because by the time I finished congratulating Tuffin, Rourk had eaten it.
Rourk actually did us all a favor. By the time we got home, he was so sick from what we had made that he couldn’t go out for “congratulations” and “nice try” ice cream with the rest of us.
We all tried to act sad, but it sort of served Rourk right, seeing as how he had eaten all the food. Plus, we all knew how much more ice cream there would be for each of us without him there to hog it.
CHAPTER 16
OPEN
Two weeks later, Tuffin and my mom went on TV and competed against the ladies in the red hats. Tuffin didn’t win, but he had a great time, and unlike his older brother, he was nice enough to let me be on his team. I even got to be on TV when they filmed me chopping onions.
