I do not own Twilight or any of its' characters

EPOV

Chapter 44

Last Day

Finally, we had reached the end of the term. By this time tomorrow, school would be over. Bella and I had not decided as to when we would be going back to Forks, but it certainly would not be right away once school had ended. A few of my classes had already finished a day or so ago, but I still had at least three today, including my last exam in my main culinary class with Chef Scott.

Today we had to present the dish we had created in our practical class while in lecture we had our final written test. I wasn't concerned about the written test, come to think of it; I wasn't concerned about the presentation of my dish either. Nothing really fazed me today. I was just glad to be finishing up for the year. My ankle was almost completely healed after a couple of weeks, but I still had a lot of weakness in it, no matter though, I wasn't planning on doing any running or strenuous activity anyways.

It was three o'clock when I entered practical. I only had one more hour left.

"Good afternoon everyone, please take your seats at your workstation." Chef Scott politely requested.

I sat on my stool at my table and watched him carefully as he spoke. For a spring day in Alaska, it was actually quite warm today. Most everyone had t-shirts and light jackets on. I noticed that Chef was wearing a very high collared under armour shirt on under his jacket, which struck me as strange. Wasn't he warm as well? Come to think of it, he had been very overdressed lately. I wondered why. Why did I even care? I let the thought leave my head as quickly as it had come and continued to half listen to him. He prattled on about what he expected from us, blah, blah, blah, something about we could have up to half an hour extra time if we needed it, but no more than that, blah, blah, blah. There was no way I would be staying past four, which began to irritate me because Chef was going on still and cutting into my cooking time. I was not Rachel Ray and this was no thirty minute meal. I needed at least forty five minutes.

Finally, Chef's speech came to an end; I unlocked my locker and started getting out my utensils. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I quickly pressed a button on the side to silence it. I had gotten a new phone to replace the one I had shattered in all that mess we got into weeks ago and I actually preferred the new one to the old. As inconspicuously as I could, I glanced down at the phone, new text message from Bella. A small smile crossed my face as I pressed the button to read it. She was probably having a harder time than I was waiting for class to end, if I disliked school at this point, she loathed it. Are you going to get out in time? I quickly typed back, soon. She wrote back saying that she was going to get out a little late, and I typed back, I'll take care of dinner, just come home when you're done. I shut the phone and slipped it back in my pocket and started to organize my things on the counter.

The prepping of my dish took much less time than I thought it would. I decided on the sautéed chicken with garlic, prosciutto, and golden beets in olive oil tossed with pasta and parmesan cheese. I had been making it over and over again at home, fine tuning it and I had finally mastered it. For awhile, Bella and I were eating it once a week, like clockwork for a month. She never complained once. Once I had prepped everything, my water was starting to boil; I salted the water, dropped the pasta and timed it. Meanwhile I prepared the chicken and added in the shredded beets at the last moment. I managed to have a few extra moments to prepare a side salad and also enough time to clean my work space, which counted for twenty percent of our grade. By four o'clock, I was completely finished.

Chef Scott saw me standing alongside my table, which was the signal that we were done. A few other neighboring students had just finished as well, and I had to wait as he slowly, tortuously made his way around the room, making out a grading sheet for each person. To pass the time, I tuned into his thoughts as he graded everyone. The majority of everyone was being given Bs and B+, a few got A's and very few got below a C. It seemed like my graduating class would be a fairly competent bunch. I had made a few acquaintances throughout the year; after all, I was a mainly solitary person. However, it was good to have a few people to pal around with when Bella didn't feel like going out. I shot a glance over at one of the guys I knew; Scott had just given him a D. That's unfortunate, I thought to myself, I'll have to take him out for a beer sometime before he goes back home for break.

Chef Scott made his way over to me and smiled politely. "Mr. Cullen," if I were a dog, my hackles would have stood up at the sound of his voice.

"Yes Chef?' I replied smoothly.

He studied my serious expression and formal stance, he smiled a little wider, "why so sullen, Mr. Cullen?"

Really? Did he really just say that? Did he really just make a rhyme using my surname? God I couldn't stand him. I hoped that he wouldn't be back next year. I realized he was waiting for me to reply to his ridiculous, humorless joke. With the patience of what I considered saintly, I gave him a congenial smile and said calmly, "just anxious to get home Chef."

He chuckled softly and looked down at my grading sheet and started to write something, "can't say that I blame you, if I had a girl like that waiting for me, I'd want to get home to her too." It sounded innocent and complimentary enough, but there was something about his tone that was suggestive that made me want to snap his neck.

"Actually Chef, I meant back home to my family in Washington. My girlfriend and I are no longer together." I don't know what made me say it, but I suddenly felt an intense need to protect her from him. I didn't even say her name, I didn't even think it, I wanted her as far out of his memory as I could make it humanly possible.

He stopped whatever he was writing and stared down at the paper. He glanced up at me, "I'm sorry to hear that, Edward. She seemed very nice." You don't even know her I thought to myself resentfully; I hated fake, pretentious people.

"It wasn't working out."

"That's how it goes sometimes." He said casually, looking back down and continuing to write.

He asked me about the dish, and went about his culinary duties. He tried it, asked about the ingredients, and I explained everything clearly and accurately to him, I even made a joke or two, brimming with charisma. I didn't really care what my grade was, I scanned his thoughts as he tasted it and commented and wrote up my grade. I listened for anything that seemed abnormal for a culinary teacher to be thinking. I found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary but I did, however, get an A; As if that would surprise me.

"Alright Edward, you're all set. You'll get your final grade in the mail, should we mail it back home or at your Alaska address?"

"Home would be fine, thank you." I replied with a smile.

"Excellent, well, have a good summer, we'll see you next year." He said clapping me on the shoulder.

"Thank you Chef, you do the same."

He nodded politely, smiling warmly at me. I grabbed my bag and my jacket and headed out at ten past four. I felt like a burden had been lifted off my shoulders, school was officially over, and I didn't have to see Chef Scott for at least another three months. As I got to the threshold of the classroom, I put my sunglasses on and hoisted my bag on my shoulder and then Chef Scott called behind me.

"Mr. Cullen, your home address is in Forks, Washington, is that correct?"

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned slowly, "yes, that's correct." I answered.

"Hm, awful rainy out there isn't it?" He asked, smiling dumbly at me.

"Ever been there?" I asked firmly, staring at him.

"Once or twice."

I gave my head a firm nod and began to walk away, feeling the burden settle itself back down onto my shoulders.