The cookies were going to get burnt. I knew it. I broke into a run, and switched off the oven. It was swelteringly hot in the café kitchen, but hey, at least I could burn off some calories.

Or maybe you had to exercise to do that.

Anyhow, I had to get those damned cookies out of the damned kitchen before the damned customers complained.

Correction; before Lauren Moffat complained.

Since we'd bulldozed through the wall of the Hoosier Sweet Shoppe, We'd had a lot more customers. Unfortunately, after the whole Coffee Pot incident, though she wasn't as popular as before, without her devoted posse, she still wanted to make my life hell. So, she visited the shop daily, and ordered, just to keep me on my toes. Oh, and to tell me how large my butt looked in my capris. Need I remind her of the size of her legs in those sheer thigh-highs?

Turning my attention to the burnt cookies, I bit my lip and started scraping off the black stuff. No success. I threw the lot in the bin, and ran out the back door, in my apron, to buy some cookies from the Super Sav-Mart. Yeah; Mum was going to kill me, but whatever. I was desperate.

People were shooting glances at me, but for once, I ignored them. I grabbed a family-sized pack of cookies, and paid the cashier woman. She glanced at my apron, smirked, but didn't say anything. I glared at her, and darted back into the kitchen.

I was sure I'd just lost a few pounds.

Swearing, I chucked the packet in the microwave, and pulled them out thirty seconds later, and piled them on a plate. Well, some of them. Lauren had only ordered five, because of her superficial cheerleader's diet. Oh heck. Typical.

"Steph! You're such…a Steph! Get your ass over here; I've got an appointment at the manicurist's!" she shrieked. Rolling my eyes, I walked outside, and dumped the plate on her table.

Darren glanced at me, eyebrow's raised. He mouthed, "Heck, what a drama queen."

I mouthed back, "As usual," and stomped back into the kitchen.

I wasn't happy.

Of all the people, Mum made ME, be the one stuck in the kitchen, making cookies, cake, and beverages. Yeah, I could make coffee. Easy. And tea was fine too. Just chuck a Lipton in some water. Cake? Yeah, cake mix.

COOKIES?

Hell no. Firstly, my batter was half demented. And there was no recipe to tell me how long to bake them for, so they were either half raw, or burnt.

And Mum refused to allow me to buy a recipe book from the Super Sav-Mart. Which kind of sucked.

Darren walked in, with a sympathetic look on his face.

"Yo. Lauren just left. I reckon you should change your shift time, she knows when you come now. Anyway, pretty quiet out, it's boiling, so go home. You look like you need a rest," he offered.

"Hello, I'm the one who owns this place. Well, nearly. But you know what I mean. You should be the one going," I laughed.

"Nah, it's fine, I'm meant to be here, I get paid. You don't. So leave," he said, shooing me out the back door.

"Oh fine, thanks, you're a darling!" I chirped, in a Lauren voice.

He chuckled, and handed me my bag.

"Like, totally!" he replied, and closed the door.

I took off my apron, and hung it in the back shed, then walked home, exhausted.