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Cycle 18-1: Getting Diced Up

Kaitlyn finished folding the final napkin with a slight flourish. Before her, a box of perfectly folded little crowns arrayed themselves in neatly stacked rows. Settling the last one on top, she tucked the box back on its shelf and turned toward the kitchen.

Scarra stood before the stove, shaking a pan full of broccoli. Chella retrieved a plate of the day’s special from beneath the warming lamps and exited the kitchen, her steps relaxed and unhurried. Even Philip seemed a little less brusque than usual when calling “order in”.

Today was a slow day. They were rare at the restaurant, but did indeed happen - and with increasing frequency. They had just as many customers as ever before, but with how efficient Kaitlyn had become, even the busiest days left her feeling less stressed and able to actually manage her variety of tasks. On days like this, where the kitchen was also slow, she even had spare time.

The door swung open once more to reveal Chella’s wobbly figure. “Well! I have to admit, I haven’t felt this relaxed in years.”

A grunt sounded from Scarra’s corner. “Sounds like you need somethin’ to do.”

“I really do!” His wife laughed. “Why, thank goodness I can help with serving. Kaitlyn here might put me out of a job otherwise!”

Kaitlyn’s face reddened. “Uh, if there’s something else I can do to help…”

The woman waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense, honey. You’ve already been a tremendous help. Keep up the good work!”

“Order up!” Scarra slid another pair of plates toward her. With a wink, the woman grabbed them and made for the door.

Kaitlyn glanced around the kitchen once more. Let’s see… what else can I do? Napkins are all folded, I’m caught up on dishes until those plates come back, we have plenty of breadbaskets and condiments… have I really done everything?

The thought made her frown. That feels weird. I should be doing SOMETHING. There has to be something else, but Chella didn’t even have any suggestions…

Slowly, she turned toward the burly chef tending to a pot of pasta. Well… why not?

“Um, Chef?”

“Hmm? Whaddya want?”

At this point, the man’s gruff demeanor rolled off her pretty ineffectually. They guy was a total softie, even if he’d never admit it. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“What, you bored already?” He scoffed. “Go fold some napkins or somethin’.”

“I’ve folded all of them. Even the ones in the backup box. Even Chella doesn’t know what else I should do.”

Scarra paused and squinted, evaluating the slip of a girl before him. Kaitlyn forced an uncertain smile.

“You know how to use a knife?”

If anyone else had asked, she would have been indignant. But this was Scarra. Even if his demeanor didn’t intimidate her, his skill certainly did. “Knowing how to use a knife” meant something different to a professional chef.

She nodded and answered as honestly as she could. “I know basic knife skills. I do a lot of cooking on campus, in the dorms. It’s nothing compared to this, but…”

The burly chef whirled, plucking a white onion and a knife from deeper in the kitchen. Striding over to Kaitlyn, he set them on the bench and slid a cutting board over. “Here. Dice that up.”

With that, Scarra turned back to his own work. Kaitlyn, however, had to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. Wait. Is he actually having me do prep work? Scarra? Could I actually learn how to cook from him?

Her attention turned to the items before her. The onion wobbled back and forth slightly, taunting her. Ok. Don’t mess this up Kaitlyn. Well, I guess I can, there’s always next time. But still!

Picking up the knife, she got to work. It glided through the vegetable with terrifying ease. Whatever Scarra did to his knives, it obviously kept them in better shape than her cheap ones had ever been. Working with careful attention to detail, Kaitlyn focused on making the neatest, most even cubes she’d ever done.

The next thing she knew, Scarra was looming over her. “You’re still not done? What, are you tryin’ to cut each cube individually?”

She started, setting the knife down before she accidentally cut herself. “N-no! I just wanted to make sure they’re even. I mean, yours always look so perfect…”

The man growled and brought over another onion. “You can’t spend ages on a single onion. What, you want the customers to starve? Do it like this.”

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Picking up the knife, he demonstrated a different way to dice the onion. Rather than simply chop the whole thing in a gridlike pattern, he showed her how to use the root to keep the thing together while applying cuts from three directions. He even took the curvature of the thing into account.

I didn’t even realize there were better ways to cut onions. The chef passed the knife over for her to try again. But this looks way more efficient. So that’s how he does it!

Her first attempt to copy his technique was slow, but much faster than what she’d been doing. Not to mention it gave better results. Scarra nodded in approval.

“Good. Now practice on these till you got it down.”

A box of onions thudded heavily onto the ground next to her. The sight made Kaitlyn sigh.

It’s ok. It’s no different than pipetting the same identical reactions over and over in lab. It’s just beginner work I have to get through. Plus, if I get this down, then maybe he’ll teach me more.

Gripping the knife once more, she began dicing. More dirty plates came in, but they didn’t need to be dealt with quite yet. She knew well how many dishes they had to work with here.

“Order in.”

Philip strode into the kitchen, pinning the order to the bench. He glanced over at Kaitlyn’s onion-dicing efforts, and his eyebrows rose. For him, it was about the equivalent of fainting in shock. “Scarra has you helping with food prep?”

“Yeah. Well, practicing for now.”

“Impressive.”

That made her look up. First that compliment a few loops ago, now this. What is up with him? “Thanks? Like I said, I’m not any good at it yet.”

“That’s not important.” The guy crossed his arms. “The fact that he’s decided you’re able to be taught speaks volumes. Be aware that he can be an exacting teacher.”

She smiled wryly. “Kind of like you?”

Philip blinked. “Do you find me exacting?”

Uh, yes. Obviously. But she just shrugged. “Well, do expect a lot from me.”

“Nothing more than what you’ve proven yourself capable of learning.” Philip looked down and picked a bit of lint off of his vest.

Ok, what gives. Pausing for a moment, she peered into Philip’s cold grey eyes. Both he and Scarra are treating me way differently than before. What happened? What did I do? Did their personalities change without me realizing it?

“Why do you guys expect so much of me?” Suspicion laced her tone. “I mean, I haven’t even been here that long. You barely even know me.”

“You are willing to put in time and effort beyond what is expected of you. Not just in your work here, but in tutoring as well. With such proof of your intentions, it makes sense to match your investment or give you the opportunity to further leverage such efforts.” Philip fell silent for a moment. “At least, I would assume Chef Scarra shares a similar outlook.”

“Order up! Oi, Philip! Are you distractin’ her over there? Do I need to put you to work too?”

Philip bowed his head. “Of course not, Chef. I’ll get these served.”

Philip spun to retrieve the newly set out plates. “I must get back to work. Hopefully you make this opportunity count.”

Before she could respond, he was already out the door.

***

The cold autumn breeze whipped by, sending Kaitlyn’s hair fluttering into her face. Leaves swirled about her feet where she stood outside of the Hartland stadium fence, hands shoved into her hoodie pockets for warmth. Within, the faraway figures of the cross country team darted back and forth along the track.

The distance made it difficult to make out individual figures - a worthwhile tradeoff for anonymity. Coach had better eyes than his old age would suggest, so the choice of where to stand had been unexpectedly difficult. In the end she’d settled on a spot near a tree, far back from the fence itself. Even from here, though, she could still make out the telltale mop of wavy black hair that stood above the others.

It still hurts. But less, now.

She didn’t visit here often. She hadn’t at all the first few loops back - the prospect of intentionally seeking out Alex loomed over her like a dark specter, even despite their interactions when she’d stayed with Vinny. It took a bit of time to come to terms with that.

At first, she’d started working out again. At very specific times and places to avoid any chance meetings, of course. But the physical activity did make her feel a bit better and more productive every loop. Soon enough she’d even worked up the courage to run on her own whenever she needed to clear her mind. But now, these visits were an important ritual she’d taken up to check on her feelings.

He seems happier, even from here. She allowed herself a small smile, staring out beyond the chain link fence of the stadium. I wonder if Cedric and Rachel are the same. I’m not sure if they’d have changed too.

Were these visits helpful? Maybe not. Maybe they just made it harder to let go. But maybe they were helping her come to terms with the loss.

It’s not really a loss. He’s right there, after all. The bronze-skinned figure dashed along the track, outpacing the next runner by a significant margin. I could just…

She cut the thought off. Nope. None of that, now. Let him be, Kaitlyn.

One day, perhaps, the feelings would fade. Maybe one day she’d even be able to join cross country again without all of this baggage. One day far, far in the future.

But for now, she turned and left.

***

Cycle 18 Complete!

Ending: Under the Radar

Total Endings Unlocked: 6

Writing - F (0%)

Calculus - F (0%)

Statistics - F (0%)

Chemistry - A (98%)

Genetics - A (100%)