5
507words
But I wasn’t the only one struggling.When Claire announced she would make cream of mushroom soup,I snorted.
If that counted as a dish,my sticky rice cakes should,too.
When I named my dish,the audience chuckled.
The screen joined in:
[Mara’s a true tribe girl,promoting her Appalachian cakes on the show!]
The staff set up our ingredients,along with close-up cameras.
The bias was blatant.
Claire got plump,fresh mushrooms,ample butter,milk,cream,even wine.
My sticky rice was dark and gritty,the soybeans in uneven sizes—a clear downgrade.
Claire was the show’s star,after all.
I grumbled inwardly but showed no expression on my face.
The contest began.Claire bustled about,slicing mushrooms,simmering milk,flashing perfect smiles at the camera.
I leisurely steamed rice and roasted soybeans,just glancing at the comments on screen from time to time:
[Claire’s so skilled!Cream of mushroom soup must be her favorite.]
[Of course—it’s unforgettable when shared with her love,Nathan.]
I didn’t know how mushrooms came into all this,but I knew Nathan couldn’t eat them.
When I escorted him out of the tribe,I had kindly picked wild mushrooms for him to take home.
His face paled,and he waved them off,explaining he was allergic.Once,a new maid used mushroom seasoning,and he passed out,barely saved in time.
He said only those closest to him—and me—knew this secret.
I blushed then,thinking the potion was working,as this handsome boy opened his heart to me.
Lost in thought,I didn’t notice Claire approach me.
Holding a bottle of wine,she “accidentally”spilled it onto my soybean pan.
“Oops,Mara,sorry!”
“I just wanted a peek, but my hands slipped and ruined your ingredients.”
Fury surged.I smirked coldly:
“No worries.It wasn’t like you did it on purpose,right?”
I blew a low,melodic whistle.Claire looked puzzled.
Ten seconds later,the audience gasped: “Cockroaches!”
All eyes shifted from close up shot of me to what Claire was cooking.
Dozens of cockroaches,big and small,swarmed her counter.Claire’s face went ashen,and she stumbled back,collapsing on the stage.
“Kill them!My soup!”Her shrill scream shattered her gentle facade,revealing her true self.
The director yelled, “Get rid of them!”
Staff rushed in,frantically swatting,but it was too late.Two roaches had already crawled into Claire’s nearly finished soup.
In the chaos,the soup spilled,leaving only a mess.
I stood by and watched,my lips curling.
Claire,livid,pointed at me,shouting:
“Mara,you little witch!You did this,didn’t you?”
“You were humming something—I knew it!You summoned those roaches!”
I mocked her:
“Claire,you flatter me.A shortcut-taking girl like me with that kind of power?”
“You spilled wine in my soybeans,and I didn’t complain.You didn’t look after your ingredients, you let roaches ruin them,and now you blame me?”
My words silenced her.The screen erupted with comments:
Claire’s fans echoed her:
[It’s Mara’s doing!She’s from a tribe—probably used some dark magic to bully Claire.]
[I saw her lips move on the screen—she was definitely chanting a spell!]
My growing supporters fought back:
[Claire’s gone too far—cutting in line,slandering Mara as a mistress,ruining her ingredients,and now blaming her for bugs?She’s the real sneak!]
[If Mara had that power,she would have struck back when Claire started bullying her,why wait until now!]
