Chapter Twelve Lyra #3
Gasps. Laughter. A snort from Mandy. Even Nevin chortled.
“This does not surprise me in the slightest,” Mandy said, and I turned to see her smirking at me. “You’ve never been the brightest bulb, have you, dear?”
I winced. I could feel myself shrinking, just like I had all those years ago, when school had infuriated me beyond belief, and I’d tried to make myself small. Unnoticeable.
Rab just stared at me.
“You… failed?” he asked.
“Yup, that’s me. An absolute failure,” I muttered, soft enough for only him to hear.
The cameras zoomed in.
Because of course they did.
“Rab named a sick lamb after Lyra and nursed it back to health after she left and broke his heart.”
I gaped at Rab as his secret was revealed and he turned away from me, refusing to make eye contact. What? Was that even real? Laughter welled up, surrounding me, and making me feel like I was back at school, struggling to keep up, having answered an easy question from the teacher wrong again.
I wanted the floor to open up beneath me, welcome me into the sweet, silent void, and close neatly over my head. My cheeks burned, my stomach twisted, and I could only imagine Vaughn’s delight at having the first magickal catastrophe of the show. This would be killer for ratings.
“Right,” Nevin said brightly, clapping his hands. “Time to tally points for round one!”
Oh, good. Now everyone could quantify my humiliation numerically.
Kelly bounced forward, green hair swishing like an excited plant sprite. “Let’s start with Team Elf!”
“As you know, we’ll be awarding points for taste and presentation, and the team with the most points at the end of all the challenges will win the entire competition,” Nevin said, reiterating the rules for the cameras.
The two cheerful contestants beamed. Their soufflé hovered above their ramekin, harmonizing a surprisingly on-key version of “Deck the Halls.”
“Ten points for presentation,” Kelly announced.
“And ten for taste,” Nevin said, licking a spoon. “Perfectly sweet and delightfully airy.”
Team Elf squealed and hugged, jingling from their festive collars. The room applauded.
“Next, we have Mandy and Felicity!” Kelly sang.
Mandy’s soufflé was obnoxiously perfect. It levitated, sparkled, and belted out “Jingle Bells” like a drunk lad after a football match. Mandy folded her arms and preened like she’d personally reinvented the concept of baking.
“I’d say a nine for presentation,” Nevin said, “because the glitter is a tad excessive.”
“Slander.” Mandy sniffed, tossing her hair.
“But ten for taste,” Kelly added. “This is exquisite.”
Mandy gave me a smug little smile. Felicity squealed and bounced up and down as she clapped.
“Next team!” Kelly continued.
Henry’s soufflé hovered only an inch above its ramekin and warbled waveringly through the first line of “Silent Night.” But still… singing was singing.
“Let’s give an eight for presentation,” Nevin declared.
“For taste… a seven,” Kelly added, frowning thoughtfully. “A touch flavorless, but still charming.”
Henry looked utterly delighted, his bushy eyebrows lifting as he accepted applause with a bashful wave.
“And finally,” Kelly said, turning with far too much sparkle in her eyes, “Team Rab and Lyra!”
Oh goddess.
The judges approached our pathetic, sunken soufflé, which was basically the culinary embodiment of my emotional state. It sat there, collapsed and steaming, like it had given up on life halfway through rising.
Nevin leaned in. “Well… it slightly resembles a soufflé.”
“And there is cinnamon.” Kelly sniffed, clearly trying to be fair.
“Um, I’d say a three for presentation,” Nevin said gently.
Three.
“Now for taste,” Nevin continued, lifting a spoon.
Rab actually flinched. “You don’t have to—”
Nevin took a bite.
There was a long moment where everyone held their breath. Then Nevin nodded slowly.
“It tastes like scrambled eggs had an identity crisis,” he announced.
I wanted to crawl into the nearest oven.
“Right. Two points for taste,” Kelly said, a look of glee on her face. They always needed someone to fail for it to be a good show.
“Thank you,” I said, quietly dying of embarrassment inside.
Mandy coughed out a laugh.
Beside me, Rab stood very, very still.
I slid him a glance to see his jaw clenched and his fists tightened at his sides.
I’d just embarrassed him on a show that most of the magickal community watched.
Nevin clapped again. “And that concludes round one! It looks like Team Elf is starting out strong. Keep your eyes on them as we move into the next challenge in this Christmas special of Bewitching Bake Off!”
“And… cut,” Vaughn called, and the room visibly relaxed, while the other teams spoke excitedly about their challenges. I just stood there, blinking at the mess on our table, completely unsure of how to proceed.
There was no way I was going to make it through this challenge. And in the meantime, I was going to bring Rab down with me. If he didn’t already hate me enough, once again, I was going to remind him what an embarrassment the MacGregors were.
Turning, I fled the kitchen without another word.