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I was about to say something when Evangeline stood up and began speaking. I stared at Brooke for a moment, watching as she began making notes, and when she didn’t look back at me, I turned my attention to the instructor. I’d had one task—just shut up and listen—and I’d been incapable of doing that.
Brooke
1 year later
I made my way into the small coffee shop on campus. It was quieter than usual this morning, but then I realized that most of the classes had already had their finals, and most students had gone home for the summer. I placed my order and then took my coffee and croissant to a small table in the corner.
My stomach turned as I spread a little jam onto the pastry and took a bite. Today was the only day that truly mattered, I thought to myself. The final challenge of the year, the final exam. It was a two-part exam, half written and the other practical. I took a sip of my coffee and swallowed the hot liquid. I was nervous, and my hand shook as I set the cup back down on the table.
It wasn’t the doubt in my ability that was making me shake, but the scene that I figured would arise during the final exam. Every week this past year we’d had a challenge, and I’d passed every one of them with zero help from Tristan. In fact, I’d have failed every single joint challenge had I not taken charge and told him to sit there and be quiet. Had I not done that, I feared each joint challenge would have ended up like his independent challenges. It wasn’t that he’d received a failing mark, especially once he began copying each step as I did them, but each were marked with a “needs improvement.”
However, in the end, we both ended up with a passing grade going into the exam. I wasn’t sure if he had stayed behind in class to make up extra grades or what, but by my calculations, and what I’d seen, he should have been failing. I was shocked when our grades were posted yesterday, and I saw where he was sitting. I was at ninety-five and he was at ninety-three.
I took another bite of my croissant. Our final exam today was worth fifty percent of our mark, and I feared what would happen if, in fact, we were paired up. I glanced down at my watch and noticed I had twenty minutes to get across campus and into the class. I shoved the last of my breakfast in my face, grabbed my book bag and coffee, and made a dash for the door.
I sat in the classroom, beside Tristan, trying to listen to what Evangeline was saying. He was gazing out the window, like he usually did, not paying attention to anything, only this time he was tapping his pencil on the desk. The constant drumming was driving me crazy, and I reached across and ripped the pencil from his hand. His head spun around and his eyes locked with mine for a second, but I focused my attention on Evangeline.
“For the practical component of the final exam this year, we will be making French macarons. You can work together or apart but let me remind you that if you should choose to work together, you will be graded together,” Evangeline said.
I watched as she made her way to the back of the class and turned the lights on over the baking area. There were enough spaces for each one of us in the class to work alone, yet some of the pairs were already joining together, like I knew they would. I went to get up and make my way to the back when I felt Tristan grab my wrist.
“Brooke, can I talk to you for a second?” he questioned.
I let out a breath, annoyed at the fact that he’d stopped me, “What is it?” I asked.
“Can we work together on this one?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Why on earth would he even think I’d consider working with him on this? It was the final mark of the year, and if this went the same as all the other projects we’d worked on, well, I’d fail. I shook my head. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“But, Brooke, I…”
“No, Tristan. I wish you luck, but I am working by myself,” I said and made my way back to the back of the room.
Tristan must have followed closely behind me because he slid into the small workspace across from mine, just like he normally did. He looked around nervously, as if he had no clue what he was doing.
“Class, you have two hours… Get to work,” Evangeline said. “Those of you working together, please keep the talking to a minimum so you don’t disrupt the others.”
I took a minute and got myself adjusted, placing my bowls where I wanted them, then I got to work creating my filling. I wanted to make sure I got my idea for the filling down on paper before I began making anything. I quickly marked down the recipe from my grandmother on a piece of paper from memory—a whipped chocolate and coconut ganache that had been my favorite filling growing up. I doubted anyone would have anything like it.
Once I was satisfied, I grabbed the sifter from under the counter and a bowl and began filling the sifter with icing sugar. Once I’d sifted that, I poured the ground almonds into the sifter and sifted that into the icing sugar. I reached under the counter and pulled out a second bowl, dumping the sifted contents back into the sifter and starting again.
“What are you doing?” Tristan asked, looking over at me.
I didn’t answer. I just kept sifting away.
“Seriously, how many times are you going to sift that?” he asked, already pulling out the blender.
Again, I ignored him, grabbing the food processor and plugging it in before dumping the mix of icing sugar and ground almonds into it. I turned it on, allowing the mixture to spin around the machine then dumping it back into the sifter. I went about this process three more times and then looked over at Tristan, who stood there smirking.
“What?” I mouthed.
“Bit much don’t you think? Wasting all this time sifting that?”
“Whatever you say.” I knew from what I’d read that was the secret.
“Mr. Ryan and Miss. Kinley, if you wanted to work together you should have. That’s enough talking. Get back to work,” Evangeline said, coming up and checking on us both.
I set aside the mixture and grabbed the bowl of egg whites and cream of tartar. I turned on the mixer and began whipping the egg whites, slowly adding in the cream of tartar as soon as the egg whites began to foam, and then began slowly adding in granulated sugar. I tipped in some purple food coloring and continued beating until stiff peaks began forming and softly smiled to myself. Everything was coming together just the way it should.
