That following Monday morning, Flora stood outside the door of the room in which that afternoon's class was to be held. It happened to be on the campus of a smaller community college nearby, so the Professor had dropped her off on his way to his own university. And now, a quarter til eleven, Flora was feeling like a small pond fish who had been dropped into an ocean.
All around her were people, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder in that narrow hallway. Even just looking at the feet of the crowd, the diversity was evident, with a healthy mix of Converse and loafers and sandals and high heels and so on. Flora wouldn't know about their faces or the rest of their dress because she could only focus on the floor in front of her. She dared not look up, or else she would have to face the discerning looks that were no doubt being thrown her way. She could practically hear, 'Are you lost, miss?'
"Hey, are you lost?"
Flora jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She whirled around to see the freckled face of another girl facing her.
"Whoa, take it easy!" The girl smiled nonchalantly. "Wasn't trying to scare you."
"Sorry," said Flora sheepishly. "I guess I'm just nervous."
The girl shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You're here for the class, too, right?"
Relief surged through Flora, and her shoulders relaxed instantly, releasing tension she didn't even know she was holding on to. "Yes, I am! I thought I was the only one here who wasn't an adult."
"All the more reason for us to stick together. I'm Ivy, by the way."
"I'm Flora." A moment after she said this, Ivy laughed.
"Two nature names. Both plants, even! I guess it's meant to be that we found each other, huh?"
Flora giggled. "Ivy and Flora. It almost seems too good to be true!"
Ivy nodded, reaching into her pocket. "Gum?"
"Hm? Oh, no thank you."
Ivy raised an eyebrow as she popped a piece into her mouth. "You sure?"
Flora nodded, her usual energy constantly returning. "Oh, I'm much too excited, now. I'm afraid I'd swallow it!"
An unrecognizable look crossed Ivy's face. "Excited?"
"Of course! I'm excited for the class! And now I'm as nervous since I'm not alone anymore."
"So… you weren't just forced into this class by your parents, too?"
Flora shook her head. "No, I'm the one who wanted to sign up. This is a great opportunity to learn from such a great chef."
"Ah." The pause that followed was perhaps a little too long to be comfortable. "I see."
Before another long pause could ensue, the door to the classroom opened and the crowd around them began to filter in. Flora followed the people ahead of her, glancing back at Ivy when she could spare her attention. She was close behind, seemingly focused on just moving along.
The room was very wide, with rows of symmetrical cooking stations with a stove, counter, sink, and oven each, as well as various appliances and utensils.
"Welcome, everyone," Chef Dupain said from the front. "Two to a cooking station, please. There should be enough for everyone."
Behind the bulk of the crowd, Flora managed to find an open station, but it was towards the back. She took a moment to familiarize herself with where everything was situated, and as she did, she noticed someone move in next to her to join her. It was Ivy, who was holding a whisk and grinning.
"Hey, Flora," she said, "do you think this class is going to be whisky?"
Flora giggled. "That's a good one!"
Ivy's grin widened, setting the whisk down on the counter. "I'm glad you thought that pun was in good taste."
Another laugh from Flora followed. "Very funny." She picked up the wayward whisk and put it back in its place among the other utensils.
"Good morning," said Chef Dupain. The light chatter that was going on around the room died out as he began the class. "Today we will start with-"
"Oh, Flora," whispered Ivy in a suddenly serious tone.
"Hm?" she replied absently.
"Did you hear about that one Italian chef last week?"
Flora's eyes widened in surprise. She turned her head towards Ivy.
"No, I didn't! What happened?"
"He..." Ivy's neutral expression morphed into a Cheshire grin. "...pasta way."
The surprise and concern melted away. "Oh. Ha, ha." Flora rolled her eyes and looked back towards the front of the classroom.
"Hey," whispered Ivy once again. At first, Flora ignored her, being far too intent on soaking up every word the master chef said. Her partner was persistent.
"Hey, Flora."
Flora waved her off, as he chef was giving instructions about the preparations for the dish they would be making, a kind of pasta with a tomato and herb sauce. People around them were pulling out bowls and ingredients from the storage space under the counters, and Flora followed along.
"Flora-"
"What?" Flora hissed, dropping a bag of flour onto the counter with a noticeable thump.
Ivy was holding the bowl that Flora was supposed to be mixing ingredients into. "I just wanted to say that you're adora-bowl."
"Very funny. But could you please give that back? I really need it."
Ivy set it back down on the counter nonchalantly. "No problem, boblem."
"Thank you." Flora set back to work, settling back into the pace of the rest of the group fairly quickly. She measured in the proper amounts of oil, flour and salt, and then cracked three eggs into the mix one by one, carefully observing and replicating Chef Dupain's technique. This time, no pieces of shell found their way into the bowl. This was certainly cause for celebration, but she couldn't truly enjoy the moment.
"Egg-cellent job, Flora!" Ivy quipped. Flora only glared in return. Ivy sighed. "Gosh, it's like walking on eggshells with you."
"Ivy, please," she whispered, hoping that none of the others in the class noticed them. Fortunately, everyone seemed intent on mixing and kneading their pasta dough. "I'm trying to pay attention. You're really distracting me."
"So what you're saying is that I knead to stop?"
"...yes."
Ivy moved a few feet away, further down the station. Right next to-
"I have a sinking feeling that you don't think my jokes are funny anymore."
A lady does not cause a scene. A lady does not cause a scene. A lady does not-
It took everything Flora had in her to remain composed. Somehow, she managed to ignore her partner snickering at her own joke and refocus on the chef's instructions. Not too far behind, she mixed and kneaded the dough and set it aside to rest. Her partner did nothing but stand there and smile, the only idle person in the class. This was decidedly better than the constant puns, but Flora had a feeling that she hadn't seen the end of the mischief.
"...and cut the tomatoes like this. Be careful to keep your fingers back so you don't injure yourself. In case you do, immediately stop and-"
"That would not be very knife, huh, Flora?"
"Ivy. Seriously."
"Hey, now," she said mischievously, her voice no longer quite a whisper. "No need to be sharp with me."
"Stop-"
"Excuse you, two young ladies in the back," said Chef Dupain, interrupting his lesson. "You're disturbing the lesson. Please quiet down, or else I'll have to ask you to leave."
Flora's face flushed as red as the half-sliced tomato on her cutting board.
"I'm sorry!" she squeaked, ducking her head and stepping away from Ivy. She was acutely aware of every eye that was upon her.
The chef cleared his throat and continued like nothing had happened.
Her face burning, her stomach churning, Flora meekly continued, trying to work diligently as though to say, 'It wasn't me, it was her!' A quick glance to her left revealed that Ivy did not seem the least bit embarrassed or bothered. She seemed quiet, though. As though she were plotting something…
"Now that the dough has settled for ten minutes," continued Chef Dupain, "we can form the pasta."
Flora reached for the dough, but as she did, she noticed giggling off to the side. Oh, no. Not this again. If she heard one more joke-
"Y'know-"
"Shh."
"Oh, come on, at yeast give me a chance."
"If I'm kicked out of this class because of you-"
"I'm not Alfredo you, Flora."
Flora took a deep breath to steady herself.
"Please," she whispered, "Just leave me alone. I really want to be here."
Ivy looked at her for a long time. Then she shrugged. "Alright, whatever you want."
"Thank you," Flora sighed. "You have no idea how much this means to me."
Ivy shook her head. "It's fine. I don't really care."
Flora jumped back to the task at hand, taking the dough in her hands and shaping it as instructed. It was almost therapeutic, actually. Now that she knew what she was doing and wasn't worried about burning down the kitchen, it was very enjoyable. Fun even. Flora found herself humming as she worked.
"You're actually pretty smart, taking a class like this," Ivy comment idly.
Flora looked up at her. "Really?" She smiled at the compliment.
"Yeah. I mean-" There was a glint in the girl's eye. "-chefs really make a lot of dough."
Flora bit her lip. "I thought you said-"
"Yeah, I know. But I had been noodling that one for a while."
Camel's back, meet straw.
The Professor got a phone call that morning only a short while into his first lesson. It was from Flora, in tears, asking him to come pick her up from the class.
"Did you finish early?" he asked. "Or was it shorter than it was listed?"
"No. I…" she sniffed. "...I got kicked out."
"What-!?"
"Long story. Just... please-"
"I'll be right there."
Fortunately, his own class did not mind being released early. Unfortunately, it began to rain while he was en route. By the time he made his way through the ensuing traffic and found Flora, she was soaking wet and sobbing uncontrollably, only able to take shelter under a very narrow awning which did virtually nothing to protect her against the weather. He took of his coat and draped it over her shoulders as he helped her to the car.
"Are you alright, Flora?" he asked, but she was silent, still shaking even when they were both in the safety of the Laytonmobile. The Professor switched on the heat and started the drive home.
The light ahead of them turned red. As the Professor slowed the car to a stop, Flora spoke in a quiet voice.
"I guess I'm not supposed to cook after all."
"Why would you say that?" asked the Professor. When she hesitated, he tried again, more gently. "What happened?"
She sighed. "Another girl got me kicked out of the class. I was trying really hard to pay attention, Professor! I really was. But… I couldn't control… I got mad at her for distracting me when she knew I was trying to pay attention. And I snapped at her in front of the whole… the whole..." She paused to try and stop herself from crying as she spoke, but her voice still returned very hoarse. "I messed it all up again!"
"You didn't," insisted the Professor. "Things like this happen to everyone. Please, don't give up. I'm sure if I spoke to the instructor and told him what a bright and thoughtful young lady you are, he would understand and let you return-"
"Forget it," Flora grumbled. "I'm not going back."
"Flora-"
"I don't want to go back." A tear rolled down her cheek. "I… don't want to learn how to cook. Not anymore."
She was unresponsive for the rest of the car ride home, much to the distress of the Professor. He tried to lift her spirits, but it didn't seem to reach her. As soon as they reached their flat, Flora took a long shower and retreated to her room.
That is where she stayed for the rest of the day. No offer of tea or sweets could even stir her enough for her to come to the door.
The Professor felt so helpless. Seeing her so miserable hurt his heart. He knew he couldn't have prevented this but he still felt like he should have done something. He paced back and forth through the house, quietly of course, so he wouldn't disturb Flora were she asleep by now. The clock on the wall read a quarter til ten.
The telephone on the counter caught his eye. Perhaps it was true that he had done everything he could do to teach her…
But perhaps there was someone else who could help.
He picked up the phone and dialed, hoping that the other party would be awake to answer.
