Me: Hello! I'm back for the week-end and decided to crank out a chapter! Yay!
Kashino: Wow... Addict.
Me: First I don't update enough, now I update too much? You're really hard to please...
Kashino: Well-
Me: I do not own Yumeiro Patissiere!
My Journey, My Story
Chapter 7: Decision-Making Time, Grand Prix?
I cock my head to one side and blink, a little bit dazed and confused. "Grand prix?"
Aunt Lemon nods, "The 'Cake Grand Prix' is about to start. It's a tournament for teams of 4 to enter."
Himoto rolls his eyes and says, "Seriously, how do you not know that? Your own parents are Grand Prix legends."
"Eh?" I reply, in awe. Mom and Dad were legends in the grand prix? I knew they were involved, but something deserving of that title...
Isho-kun nods, agreeing with Himoto. "Your mother and father's team were the youngest people to ever win a Grand Prix. At 14-years-old, Team Ichigo dominated the Grand Prix. Your mother scored a 499 out of 500, sealing them a victory and two years abroad at St. Marie Paris."
2 years on the Paris campus? I heard about that, Dad told me about it. But I never really got into detail about it. Not even that much on their Grand Prix victory. Mom isn't one to boast about her accomplishments and Dad never tells you anything unless you ask.
"That's right," Komanda-kun continues off of Isho-kun, "Your mother made her famous Sourie D'angel, or Angel's Smile strawberry tart. They are currently one of the most in demand sweets in the world." He points to me, "Your mother doesn't sell them in her shop, right?"
"No," I shrug, it's not a big deal, really. "They just have way too many customers ordering it. She can only make so many. Plus, all the media comes around so they can try and get Mom to admit her secret formula. She just decided it wasn't worth selling."
Mom still makes them of course. She likes to give them out when special people come to visit. It's because she says, 'I love putting smiles on their faces and they deserved it anyway'.
"Exactly, so if you've tasted one, you're considered lucky," Komanda-kun finishes.
"Lucky?" I repeat, tapping my finger to my chin, "I've had like... 15 in my whole life." This causes Himoto to face palm. I roll my eyes, just avoiding an argument.
Aunt Lemon clears her throat, "Anyway, I was thinking that you 4 could be a team. A Grand Prix match works as so, there are always a different set of rules, but in the end there is always one thing, a theme. Either, you make your own or they give you a guideline theme to follow. You were able to create your own theme with this personality cake assignment and execute it perfectly. I think you would do well."
We're all 13-years-old right now, if we were to win the Grand Prix, it would knock out Team Ichigo's or Mom and Dad's team off the record for being the youngest team to win in history. Also, no one could beat us, because we are the youngest age accepted into St. Marie.
But the idea scares me. I can't imagine baking something and having people judge me on it. Baking is a fun thing to do, that makes people smile. It's supposed to be enjoyable and relaxing. I don't want to make sweets in a stressed and timed setting.
"I don't know..." I mumble, not wanting to make my final decision right away.
Aunt Lemon nods, "And you can think about it, so don't worry. Grand Prix registration isn't for another 3 days, but just think about it. I think you four will be very good competition."
When she walks off, I look to our creation we spent hours planning yesterday. "Do you really think we could make it?" I ask finally. I pick up one of my macarons and take a bite. Chewing slowly, I eye each of the boys, wondering what their thoughts are.
"Well..." Himoto replies slowly, "I'm not really that sure about it."
Waving my hand carelessly and picking up one of Himoto's own petit fours, I say, "I don't either."
"But it would be a good experience for us," Komanda-kun reasons, "After all, it would be a great way to gain skills, not to mention it's extra credit."
Himoto seems to twitch, "Extra credit?" What does he need extra credit for? He's already top of class anyway. And he's definitely not a geek who takes extra credit for fun.
"I think we should go for it," Isho-kun flips his hair over his forehead, "I have a good feeling about it."
I don't. I'm not sure at all. It sounds like a lot of fun, but at the same time I don't know if I can stand the pressure.
Not of the competition, but of all the expectations my parents have left behind. They are the youngest team to ever win a Grand Prix title, Mom got a score of 499 of 500 and that's near impossible. People are going to think that I'm just as good, if not better. I'm not sure if I can handle that.
"I'll think about it," Himoto finally says begrudgingly.
"How about this," Komanda-kun tries, "If we all decide to go for it, we will. But if even one of us says no, we won't."
I nod slowly, "It sounds fair." I really don't want to be the only one to say no. But, if I don't want to do it, I won't be any good at it at all.
"We've got 3 days to decide," Isho-kun continues, "So think about it."
The warning bell for the next class goes off. As we all pack up and head out to our next class, I put thoughts of the grand prix far back in my head.
XxXxX
No matter how hard I try, I can still feel the question lurking in the back of my head. Should I join the Grand Prix or not?
It's been plaguing my mind, like a bug flying around a room, constantly landing everywhere. You know it's there and no matter how much you try to ignore it, you can't. It's after school now and I find myself walking aimlessly. I'm not sure what to do. It's the first time it's ever really happened. Kashino Lynne, doesn't know what to say.
"Oi, where are you going?" I look up to see Himoto. One thing that makes him unlike Dad, is he's tall. He's almost a full head taller than me. Maybe half.
"Huh?" I ask, distractedly. I realize I was about to walk right into the school's lake without hesitation.
He smirks and asks finally, "Still thinking about the Grand Prix?"
I nod slowly and sigh deeply, "I... I just don't know what to do."
"Why not?" Himoto questions, "You seem like the type who would charge right into a competition without thinking at all."
I blush, realizing he's talking about the competition I accepted from him in a heartbeat. Of course, he infuriated me, so that was a factor in it. "Is that what you think of me?" I roll my eyes, sticking out my tongue, "A reckless competition freak?"
He shrugs, "In a nutshell."
I almost fall to the floor in shock. "You're mean," I grumble finally, sitting down on the ground. I pull my knees up to my chest. Himoto looks even more intimidating because he's looming over me.
Sensing this, he sits down beside me. "Sorry..." He mutters quickly. Immediately after he swipes his hand across his mouth, as if wiping something off.
That's the first time he's ever apologized for something. Maybe, a little of that old Himoto is still in there. I'm actually so taken aback, I forget to reply. "I-it's okay," I stammer at last.
"What's so bad about the Grand Prix anyway?" Himoto continues, leaning back on the palms of his hands, "I mean, what's holding you back?"
I wonder why he cares so much. "Pressure," I admit finally, "Everyone's going to be watching me because of my Mom and Dad. Like you said in class, they're Grand Prix legends."
He's silent. I guess it's because he's listening, so I continue. "I don't want everyone thinking I can be just like my parents or maybe more. I'm not skilled enough to get a 499 out of 500 like my Mom could. I don't want that kind of expectation on me."
"I can see how that would be, I guess," Himoto says slowly.
"And I hate people watching me like that, sweets were meant to be relaxing and enjoyable. A Grand Prix match is too stressed and carefully watched." Why am I telling him all of this anyway? What's it to him?
"It doesn't matter whether in a Grand Prix match or not," He tells me, pausing to think about what to say next. "People will watch you regardless."
I look at him and ask, "Why?"
"Because, when you bake, you have this aura around you. It's cheerful and optimistic and light. It makes people want to watch you." Turning away, to look at the garden that overlooks the lake, he mumbles quietly, "N-not that I watch you. I just saw how you worked yesterday on your sweet."
That's right. He was watching to make sure I didn't screw up. That was it, right? I mean, it's not like he wants to watch me...
"Really?" I whisper, in awe. No one's ever told me something like that before. The wind blows by softly. My blonde hair sways in its' ponytail.
He nods slowly. Patting my hand gently, he says, "So don't worry about being watched or the expectations set by your parents, show them who you are and what you can do. Not what they think you can do."
I find his gesture oddly comforting. It's strange. "Himoto..." I whisper slowly.
He pulls his hand away and begins rubbing at his cheeks, causing them to go red. "Well, I've got to go," He stands abruptly, "See you Kashino. Don't get lost. We don't need to go out looking for a baka like you."
I sigh, again, just when I thought he had a good side. Himoto runs off and I'm left to be on my own. My parents would know what to do. They always do.
It suddenly dawns on me. I should call them. They told me to call whenever I needed help. And I definitely need help on this one.
Slipping my cell phone out of my pocket, I dial the house number. It's only 6:00, which means they should be at home and awake.
The phone rings 4 times and I'm almost afraid no one is going to answer. Finally, there's a click and a small voice says, "Hello?"
My eyes brighten instantly, it's Dylan. "Dylan?" I answer softly.
I can hear him gasp audibly on the other side of the line. "Lynnie?" It's like I can picture him bouncing up and down. "Is that really you?"
Laughing a little, I say, "Of course it is silly! How are you?"
"I'm great! Dad just showed me a new chocolate collection of his," From his tone, I can tell he's smiling a toothy grin. In a hushed tone he says, "But... It's a secret, so don't tell anyone."
Giggling, I reply, "Of course, of course."
"Plus," His voice sounds a little sad now. It fazes me for a second, why is he sad? "I miss you." He mumbles finally.
It breaks my heart to hear him say that. I love my little brother like nothing else. Of course, he's annoying and we argue a lot, but that doesn't change the fact that I love him like crazy. Dylan's the one who would give me hugs when I cried. He'd cuddle with me when I was lonely and he always knew when I needed to be left alone.
He may be younger, but he was always there to listen when I needed someone to talk to. A hand to hold when I needed comforting. Someone there for me, when no one else could.
If anything ever happened to him, I'd be broken. I love him that much.
"Oh Dyl," I can feel tears pooling into my eyes. I miss him too. "I miss you so much, you wouldn't believe."
"I bet I could," He says quietly. I laugh in spite of the feeling we are both sharing. He was always good at that. Making me laugh, even when I was about to cry. "Everyone misses you. The family isn't the same when you're gone."
I wonder how they are doing without me. I'm the constant comic relief, as Michael puts it. I'm always making our family laugh, or being the outspoken one.
"Mom feels pretty lonely without you, not even Dad can make her feel better," Dylan continues. Even Dad doesn't make her feel good? She must be crazy sad, Dad always finds another way to make her feel better. "But, Dad's worse," He keeps talking.
My ears perk up, Dad, worse than Mom? If Dad can't even cheer Mom up, how much worse can he be? "He won't admit he misses you, but we all know he does. He throws so much work on himself, it's more than he can take. He doesn't sleep a lot and keeps himself busy. I think he's just trying to numb the feeling of missing you."
Dad too? My whole family sounds depressed without me. I didn't want it to be like that. I wanted to go on an adventure and have fun. I didn't realize my family would be so affected. "I'll come and visit soon, I promise," I assure my brother. He says he misses me, but how is he really? Is he sleeping well? Is he eating all his vegetables like I made him?
"Okay," He says, unsure of what to say next.
"The real reason I called," I admit finally, "Is to talk to Mom. Can you give her the phone?"
"Okay," Dylan repeats, his tone slightly, well, toneless. "I love you," He whispers softly.
"I love you too Dyl, I promise I'll come visit you soon. I'll show you all my new sweets and I'll bring you something cool."
He's smiling. I know it. "I'll be waiting."
And then he goes and finds Mom. As she says, "Hello?" I can hear him running out of the room.
XxXxX
"Mom?" I say slowly. I wait for her response, which is almost immediate.
"LYNNE!" She exclaims, "Oh Honey! How are you?"
I giggle; she was always one to be loud. Just like me. "I'm great, I just have a question for you..."
Mom's voice lowers, "Is it about boys?"
My face turns an intense shade of red. "OF COURSE IT ISN'T!" I yell loudly.
"Hey," Mom groans, "No need to get defensive... Or kill my ears."
I sigh, "Sorry. And no, it isn't about boys." I think of Himoto. And Isho-kun and Komanda-kun. But I push them out of my thought, that isn't what I wanted to ask Mom about.
"What is it then sweetie?" Mom uses her sweet motherly tone. I've always loved it. It feels so comforting and safe.
"Aunt Lemon's my teacher, did you know that?" I ask her first. Just so the story makes sense.
It takes her a while to answer. "Oh sorry, I was nodding at the phone and then realizing you couldn't see."
I face-palm silently. That's Mom for you. "Well... Did you know?"
"Yes, I did."
"Well... Today, she recommended that my group compete in the Cake Grand Prix," I tell her slowly.
Mom's voice is ecstatic, "That's great sweetie! Are you excited?"
"That's the thing," My tongue feels like it's made of sandpaper. Mom's excited for me. But, I really do plan on saying no. "I haven't agreed yet. I'm thinking of turning down the offer."
I wonder if Mom's jaw dropped. She has a tendency to do that when she's shocked. "... Why Lynne?" She asks.
"Well... I don't want to be measured with you," I admit to her, "Everyone will expect me to be just like you and Dad."
"Oh," Mom replies simply. "That's it."
"Yeah..." I trail off awkwardly.
"Lynne, no matter what, your father and I will be proud of you, isn't that all that matters?"
I rub the back of my neck, a little bit frustrated. "I know, but still everyone else is still expecting something, what if I don't live up to their expectations?"
"Who cares?" Mom answers, her tone free, "They can want anything they desire. But they got you and they're going to have to suck up and deal with it if they don't like it."
Typical Mom answer. "I guess... But the Grand Prix doesn't really sound like fun anyway."
"Trust me, it's tons of fun," Mom assures me. I can imagine a huge smile plastered on her face. "I know it sounds really stressful and tense, but at the end of the day, it's great."
"Oi, Ichigo, are you gossiping about me on the phone again?" It's Dad's voice. It makes my heart flutter. I miss him a lot too.
Mom covers the phone's microphone, but I can still hear her. "No! If you MUST know, I am talking to your daughter!"
"Lynne...?" Dad asks slowly.
"Well DUH. Do you have any other daughters?"
Dad sighs, "Well you said you didn't want any more kids..."
"THAT ISN'T WHAT I MEANT!"
I laugh to myself. Same old Mom and Dad. Always arguing about the weirdest things. "Can I talk to her?" Dad asks, his tone is a little odd. It's almost like he's scared to.
"Of course," Mom says lightly, "I think you need it." I hear her hand the phone over.
"Dad?" I ask.
"Hi Lynne," He says. I wait for him to say more. But he doesn't.
"So..." I trail off, hoping he'll finish my sentence. He doesn't. "I was thinking about joining the Grand Prix, Mom was telling me about how much fun it was..."
"It is," Dad confirms Mom's story. "But don't forget, it's hard too. Especially because you're so young."
I pout my lips and stare at my shoes, "I... I guess so."
"It was hard enough for our team and we were in our second year. Don't get your hopes too high."
"MAKOTO!" Mom scolds in the background, "You're being such a pessimist!"
"... I'm being honest," He retorts back. Not bothering to muffle the sound being inputted into the phone.
"No you are not! Give her the encouragement she needs!"
"OKAY OKAY!" He snaps finally. "Lynne, honey, I'll tell you this, no matter how hard will be, you should still try. I'll be rooting for you."
"Thanks Dad," I reply. A smile is taking over my face and there is a warm feeling spreading through my heart. If Himoto, Komanda-kun, Isho-kun and my parents all have so much faith in me, maybe I should go through with it. "I think I'm going to go with it."
"Good luck," Dad says, his voice lowers as he whispers, "I miss you. Love you."
I'm about to say good bye, when I hear Mom say, "I think that's the first time you've admitted you miss her."
Dad sighs, "Shut up." And the phone clicks off.
XxXxX
The next day, I meet Isho-kun, Komanda-kun and Himoto in baking class. They all look at me with questioning eyes.
"So...?" Komanda-kun asks.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" I grin brightly, "I'm in. How about you guys?"
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