[Birchwood]

"Okay I'm leaving this conversation before it gets any worse than it already is," I had to leave before the onset of a migraine. Talking to him always required more brain cells than necessary and I couldn't afford to spend more than the remaining amount I had from hours of fuming over Pierre's lack of common sense last evening. "Bye nerd."

I made a quick time check just in case, but one of the things I actually liked about talking to him was the speed at which it would end. Like, at a proper conclusion. Some people take forever to decide on something and, hours into the discussion, wouldn't stop going back and forth on something we thought we'd decided upon in the first minute. Three-thirty. Dad should be in his office by now.

Pierre was a bitch but I could not get him out of my mind the entire evening after yesterday's elimination list fiasco, knowing that I'd been unfairly marked down over some stupid little opinion of his. So with the ranking stuff settled and my path to receiving an invitation to the spring bake-off cleared, I headed straight for the headmaster's office on the third floor of the administrative building.

Being the youngest of the family and the only daughter was like, a free ticket to making as many complaints as I wished. Dad's never refused me five minutes of his time in his office, usually stopping his paperwork to give me his full attention and then reverting back to it once I was done.

Like, I've always warned him about the so-called 'friends' he invites to evening dinner parties because he's honestly too damn nice all the time to see their little back-stabbing eyes actively looking out for some material they could blackmail our family with. Kind of like mom, but less hysterical? Thank god she moved out. Lindy's a lot less dramatic but Dad and her got remarried only a year after the divorce so obviously, we weren't all that keen on the wedding. Five months later and we're still keeping an eye on her bank account. Just in case the numbers go up too much, too fast.

Honestly though, the thought of Pierre taking advantage of dad's kind nature got to me just as I took a turn down to the end of the corridor, where the double doors to the headmaster's office were. How dare he embarrass me in front of—oh. I paused right outside the door. Someone's in there.

The voices inside didn't sound like they were coming to an end anytime soon so I was about to turn back with a worse mood than before when they started becoming a little clearer and louder. Yes! He's sending them out, which means the guest is leaving.

I waited outside by a corner, three feet away from the double doors. Dad's voice, I could easily recognize as they got closer and I think he's got to be, like, a foot away from the door when the two of them decided to stop. It was painful, waiting for one of them to reach for the knob or something because, lol, I needed to vent about Pierre, like, now—

"Henri. There is a limit to my influence..." That's dad. "I cannot... increase the number of plates... is a... number for that. Things like leadership and teamwork... yes. The rubrics are vague."

Henri? I was still waiting for their exit. It took me horrifying moments to realize who it was he was talking to. Henri Pierre?

I couldn't make out what he said in response but could, however, tell from his tone the kind of face he was making. Tldr; he wasn't happy. And somewhere in his agitation, there was Cox and Chen in it. Just their names.

"If you would just put some faith in your students... I can't afford to tamper with anything else." Dad sounded even closer than he was before. "Imagine if we haven't gotten rid of the previous number one—if you're having trouble dealing with these two... things could have been far worse."

I felt it. A creeping dread; an emptiness at the back of my throat and my entire mouth that went dry, like I was moments away from throwing up and my system was preparing for it to happen.

"Remember what you owe me." This was Pierre. "Do you... how much I had to do to keep... critics quiet about you buying your daughter... convention in Paris?"

He was harder to decipher. Not just because of his accent but because he was practically a stranger whose verbal habits threw me off and because this wasn't what I wanted to hear. Already, I could hear my heart in my ears. Deafening.

Dad was quiet. I felt like screaming.

"Henri. Trust me, I know... I know how you must be feeling and that is precisely why we've agreed on a deal like this. I am doing the best I can—opaque judging criteria, indirectly forcing our top student into quitting school... just to make this victory of yours a little more believable. You can't expect more than that. The other judges aren't fools, you know."

"You know what... promised." He had us cornered and I so wanted to punch him through the wall. "You know the pressure I'm under. Winning bonus... not enough an advantage when you continue to... others before us."

Frustration. Anger. I couldn't and yet could understand every word they were saying and I was never boiling like I was now—bubbling and spilling over in rage and disappointment. Everything pooled behind my eyes and, when they paused for some silence, I hear something trickle onto the carpet floor. Oh my god, Violet. You know better than to cry.

Something else was happening in the room. It was quiet for way too long and I was about to put my ear against the door out of concern for dad when there were footsteps and the I bolted behind a nearby pillar just as the door burst open. Nothing came out.

And then, it was Pierre reminding dad about the deal. Then his footsteps down the hallway and me waiting until they were no more; then heading for the stairs down to the first floor, away from the headmaster's office with the worst, bitter, sour taste in my mouth.

=============

"Miss Birchwood? You're... are you alright?"

I ended up in the staff room and quite honestly, I didn't even recall ever passing the corridor it was on—which meant that I'd somehow wandered there without actual thinking and by this point, I wasn't going to bother with the specifics. All I needed was someone to scream at. The receptionist would've done the trick, but it wasn't really appropriate and I couldn't find a single thing on her to nitpick on! Even the Swarovski rhinestone on the second ring of her middle finger was a perfect shade of Montana. Fuck.

"I want to see Lindy."

Her face turned from shock to understanding and then stiff, half-sheepish fear. "Yes. Yes of course. Ah, but Chef Lindy is in a board meeting with the rest of the instructors at present and... it only just started. Perhaps you could come back in an hour...?"

I was about to scream. The weight on my shoulders was unbearable and I didn't even know what the hell was making it so heavy and hard to breathe except thE FACT THAT LITERALLY EVERYTHING??? WAS??? WRONG????

Dad bought me a spot on the Summer patisserie convention in Paris even though I so didn't need it; Chef Pierre for some fucking reason knows about this and had the guts to use this as leverage to, what, get his school a win so that, what, he can get promoted from his stupid-ass position that can't even get his own promotion; Dad had to cook up lies to get Layla Tenner to leave school so that it would be believable that we didn't win; and we might still end up losing anyway, all, because, of me?

I wasn't going to stand around for an hour.

The big ass 'fuck you' I gave to the receptionist was uncalled for but the shock on her face made it so that I could get past her without her chasing me down for the next five seconds within which I was able to spot the main conference room that was in use and headed straight for that. I actually liked bursting doors open; the dramatic effect suited my taste and once, I even thought of making it my official hobby.

Heads turned, eyes refocused and I was just standing in the doorway, heaving while staring at the presenter up on the podium, who'd stopped midsentence to follow everyone else's attention. Her eyes went wide.

Chef Romanov was the first one to speak. "Miss Birchwood. Is there a fire? What is the emergency?" He seemed confused but also genuinely frightened. I'd say no one in the room had ever seen me in tears. It's mostly just screaming and throwing a tantrum—that's how I roll. Not tears.

Lindy met my eye and at the very least, she had the common sense to know that something was wrong. She didn't say anything. Just breathed, standing there and waiting for me to say something like I was capable to say anything in my current state before finally getting the message and excusing herself with a sigh.

"One minute. Christian? Could you take over just a moment on the part about the additional course units. I'll be right back."

She gestured to the door and I moved out of the way, letting her pass and then following her as she led the way past several other empty meeting rooms down the hallway and then to a staff pantry at the end. She was about to open the door to the balcony so that we could speak in private but then noticed how cold it was outside so instead, she just closed the one to the pantry before crossing her arms and waiting for me to speak.

"Well? We have a minute. And this better be good because it's definitely one of the worst tantrums you've thrown so far."

I was so mad, I even let this slide. Technically speaking, I was already mad enough to instinctively turn to my stepmother of all people but she also happened to be the only other adult who wasn't dad that I could actually look to for help. Alright Violet, time to do what you hate doing—confiding in others.

"Dad messed up. Really bad. Oh my god this is the stupidest thing he's done so far."

"Yes, yes. Did he forget your first word anniversary or something?"

"Oh my god shut up you are so mean!" I snapped back and I think something in my throat must have broke because my voice died and for some reason they were replaced by this ugly bawling I never knew I was capable of executing. If this blows up and I never get to be a pastry chef, I guess I'll settle for an Oscars. The look on Lindy's face was priceless. The shock value was out the roof.

I told her the whole damn thing. Some parts were hard to get out because it wasn't as though coming to terms with the fact that my hard work for the past two rounds plus placing first in the cross-year and rising up the ranks to ninth place could very well all just be a complete ruse was an easy thing to do. Every cent of effort. Down the train. Discredited by a single, foolish act.

Better yet, we basically had no chance of winning and still, people like that nerd and Cox and Chen and Xu were working their asses off, giving up their spots for me.

Lindy handed me a glass of water in the middle of my rant and I gulped the entire thing down in less than three seconds before continuing my rage and confusion. Obviously, this meant that dad played some part in my rise to fame and and and exposing the truth of what he and Pierre were up to would have meant to some extent destroying myself too and I wasn't too sure how I felt about that.

After all, truth was never the priority. It was the confusion and frustration that got to me in the first place that had me cornered enough to turn to Lindy of all people, and by the time I ended my grand speech, she was looking at me like I literally had no marbles left to lose.

"I know you're not going to believe me," I finished into balls of tissue paper. "But I heard Dad and Chef Pierre in his office."

The look on her face was just unreadable. She didn't say a word for the next couple of seconds while I was blowing my nose as loudly as I could to fill the silence but she did seem like she was thinking hard; only, all those thinking apparently made her speechless. After what seemed like years later, she finally asked if I'd told anyone else.

"No, of course not. Who am I even going to tell? They'll lose all respect for my accomplishments when, obviously, I don't need any help from anyone in the first place! Why did Dad even have to do that? I can get invited to conventions by my own efforts. Why doesn't he get that?"

"And what about recordings?" Lindy went as far as to ask. For a moment, I froze.

"No... I was... I was too... oh my god I should have done that oh my god I've caught someone else's stupidity."

She refilled my glass of water and that, too, I gulped down in three seconds while she talked. "This is a serious matter, and I can tell from your... behaviour that you know it is. You'll have to keep it to yourself for next couple of hours or so, okay? Leave the snooping around to me and no one else can know that you are involved in this or Pierre or whoever it is might hold something against you.

"And I'm glad that you decided to confide in me," she finished with a rare smile. One that she'd already given to glasses during our first practical class and never, never to me. I'd always wanted to punch her for that.

I didn't say much in response because I was feeling very moody and PMS and just overall tired from all the emotional burden so I listened to her explain that she was going to have a talk with Chef Allan and maybe the other judges before looking into the matter. I on the other hand, was to do nothing and keep quiet and obviously I couldn't just do that because then I'd just never be able to sleep at night with all those residue thoughts in my heads running around being all jittery and whatnot.

"Okay fine," she gave in eventually. "No one's going to hear you out if you don't have any proof, so if you have Tenner's contact number... something we could use to prove that they pressured her into quitting..."

==============

Today needs to end. Like, right now. It needs to go.

The sun needs to set; the sky needs to dark, the birds need to stop chirping like happy little things because no one else is allowed to be when I'm tired and done.

Lindy's solution was to send me back to Hudson where my spare room was so that I wouldn't bump into the others spending their time socializing at the cocktail party in Roth Hall after the bonus round and accidentally spill my overflowing cup of piping hot tea. Either way, my makeup was ruined and I had nothing on me to touch it up so retreating into some cave was actually a proper solution. I wasn't in the mood to entertain anyone bragging about their experience and the exposure they got from The Golden Eagle's kitchen.

I was like, a hundred feet away from Hudson residences with the reception in sight and my student pass out and ready for scanning when someone else came into view as soon as we made it onto the part where two roads converged into one.

Xu had her hands stuffed in the pockets of her bright red windbreaker which I was not a fan of and her eyes fixed on the road ahead without even noticing that we were practically five feet apart on the same pace to likely the same destination. It was a one-way road.

She skipped the cocktail party? I thought, surprised. Must have lost pretty bad, then...

It was the only explanation for her not wanting attending the party and, well, making her way back to the residence alone. Wait. She's in Hudson too?

"If I soaked it in hot water and then transferred it into the cold to stop the process I could've saved minutes." She was talking to herself. Loud and clear. "But then it would take longer to fry in the wok... but it's on high, and the heat's enough, isn't it?"

I cleared my throat, waiting for her to notice me but all she did was continue to speak to herself so I sped up till I was directly in front of her. Still, no response. That conversation she was having with herself basically had all her attention. Mad that I was grasping for straws of the attention of someone clearly insignificant, I maximized my walking speed the rest of the way to the reception, tapped my card on the scanner, made my way to my block and stopped to wait for the elevator. It took forever.

"... using a meat fork for the twirl but would the vermicelli stick? It's not like pasta so the..."

Oh my god you cannot be serious, I thought, jamming the call button five times. She's in my block!

She came into the lobby and stood right beside me, still lost in her thoughts and absorbed in the dumbass conversation with herself that clearly wasn't as important as I was. Not a single glance my way was made and I was furious with both her and that stupid vermicelli thing she was so concentrated on. Fuck vermicelli. I'm sad! My eyes are puffed! My makeup's ruined! It's so obvious.

The elevator arrived with a ding and when the doors slid open, she was the first to go straight in and that was the exact moment she raised her head and our eyes met in the full-length mirror that spanned the inside of the lift.

She froze.

I froze.

The elevator doors closed behind us on auto.

The ventilation fans stopped functioning because neither of us went for the operating panel with the floor buttons.

"Uhhhhhhh hi." Xu had the gall to say through the mirror. I hadn't recovered enough to even fumble with the buttons. "You're... crying. Cried. Past tense."

Looking at myself in the mirror made the whole makeup situation a lot worse than I imagined it to be. I looked like shit.

"Yeah well, what else do you think I did? Seasoned my eyeballs with salt for red eyes?" I went for the operating panel and pressed the button for 'six'. Xu made no move to do the same and I was further shocked into thinking that her room was on the same floor as mine.

"Maybe? I don't know. Who made you cry?"

"No one. It's none of your business."

Thank goodness the ventilation returned, and the fans came back to life or I probably wouldn't be able to stand the awkwardness riding an elevator up six floors with nerd's best friend who has now apparently seen me in my ugliest state. Luckily, her phone was nowhere in sight and she didn't seem to be thinking about sneaking a photo of me in ruined makeup. That kind of photo, I'd never allow on any social media platform. Twitter being the worst.

"Is it just me, or you're super cold all of a sudden. You were all cute and embarrassed that time during the cocktail party after round one you know. Where did all that go to?"

I had to calm myself before looking in the mirror and registering the pink in my cheeks. By god, was this not an ideal elevator ride. She followed me out onto the sixth floor and again, I tapped my student ID against the scanning device to the right of another glass door and headed straight for the suites. First years weren't eligible for one so Xu would have to be in the other direc—oh my god she's... is she following me??

"What are you doing," I spun around to ask, stopping short in the middle of the hallway. She gave me a look like I was the one asking the obvious.

"You're obviously sad, so why don't you just tell me what happened," she said as I brisk-walked all the way to my room number and fumbled for my key fob. "Your room's a studio suite, right? What about some real good spicy stuff for dinner so that you can cry your heart out? Sounds good right?"

"W-what?!" I dropped my keys and had to pick them up, scanning the fob over the lock, and as soon as I managed to unlock my door, Xu had the nerve to put her iron grip on the handle while I was pushing it open—refusing me entrance into my own room.

I looked at her like she was crazy. "I don't need you? Like—"

"Yeah well, who else is gonna listen to you, huh? You don't have any friends."

Lightning struck; thunder boomed, I felt that hard and fell to my doom. Oh my fucking god. How dare she... how dare she say the truth in my face without batting an eyelash? Doesn't she have the tact to, I don't know, please me, the literal goddess in a school of brats? Can't she tell I was having the worst day of my life and that the truth was not going to help?

Apparently, I actually broke down crying in front of my door, in the middle of the hallway, crouched down, hugging my knees as though my life depended on it. "I have fans, okay? I don't need any friends! Like, who needs friends when you're popular and like, have fourteen thousand followers on Instagram??"

Her face did not have a single streak of emotion whatsoever and I was, quite frankly, shocked by her response. Usually, I had people panicking in milliseconds of my tantrums—and that didn't even involve a single teardrop—because they were mostly afraid I'd go around badmouthing them (not wrong) so they'd at least show some kind of redeeming pity but this... this Xu girl was just! She just!

I watched her pry the key fob out of my hand and unlock the door to my room before grabbing me by the back of my collar and, like, literally hoisting me into my room. What? Where did that? How does she have so much strength??

She had the nerve to sit me at my own dining table and search the rest of the living for the tissue box before coming back with a bunch of them in her hand and stuffing that right in my face. The next thing I knew, she was scanning the contents of my fridge. I was, like, offended? Upset? Shocked? Stupefied?

"What do you feel like eating? Oh, and how hot can your tongue handle?"

W-W-W-W-WHAT?! How hot can my... w-what was she thinking of doing to me? Oh my god should I say something? What do I say? Do I words?

I felt my face burn like it was on fire while Xu continued to ransack my fridge, spouting a whole load of nonsense. The embarrassment worsened my runny nose and I was sniffling, blowing my nose, and sniffling again. Just, dying.

"Ooh, you have kimchi. I'll make you some really hot kimchi fried rice. Like, level eight-out-of-ten spicy. You're okay with that, right?"

It took me a good long moment to actually realize that her previous question about the heat and my tongue and handling or whatnot was actually referring to the level of spice she was going to add to the dinner she was all of a sudden making for me in my own kitchen and of course, I had to slap myself awake.

"Well... yeah, but. Aren't you, like... didn't you just spend five hours in the kitchen on a wok?" I couldn't understand where her energy was coming from and was quite frankly in awe. Also just generally annoyed and felt like pointing out everything wrong with her.

"Five hours, yeah. But I didn't win," she sighed, magically producing a non-stick pan of mine that I was pretty sure I hadn't been able to find for the past month or so. "Second place. Tied with another girl from CSS, she's really good, so... it's like I'm not satisfied or something, you know? And I didn't eat my meds all day so... I'm just feeling jittery from not winning. Hidden energy, you know."

I reached for more tissues, watching her set the pan on the induction cooker before prepping the ingredients. Kimchi was something I secretly indulged in and I wasn't going to let anyone, let alone her, know that I was actually craving some kimchi fried rice. It better be good, because the only other time I had it was in Seoul, at a Michelin star restaurant celebrating traditional South Korean cuisine.

I wasn't in the mood to converse but for some reason, the words were kind of automatic. I wasn't required to use a 101% of my brain like when I was talking to nerd boy (and still not understand half of the things he's saying) and didn't need to be thinking twice about what I was actually saying. Kind of like if I were talking to someone who didn't care about my image at all.

"Oh. Wasn't it you who talked about taking meds last time? What was that all about? Are you sick or something?"

She glanced over her shoulder with wide eyes and then burst out with a huge 'WhAaAat?!' like I'd said something that blew her mind. "You forgot about the whole thing? Oh my god, you made me so worried about letting it slip and now you're telling me I was basically anxious over nothing."

Then she got to prepping and wasn't very good at having conversations while doing all that so I sort of just let her do her thing and slipped away for a quick shower. Which was weird because I've never really had anyone over, let alone to cook for me 'cuz, well, most people know that I have tastes and lol not just anyone can satisfy my preferences, so. Also, people can't take criticism. I think we've fired, like, maybe ten chefs in the household since dad was appointed the headmaster and stopped having time to cook for us. Now that I think of it, no one outside the family except our personal chefs have, ever, cooked for us.

"Okay, try this." She set a plate of kimchi fried rice before me at the table, topped with a perfect sunny side up (runny yolk) and seaweed strips as garnish. It was moments before my first spoonful that I realized I pretty much hadn't eaten all day except for some rolled oats in the morning, mouth watering at the garlicky, spicy fragrance even before tasting.

Obviously, presentation wise, it was far from the first-class stuff my brothers served in their restaurants and what I was used to back home with our house chefs and premium ingredients making up most of our meals. This was literally thrown together in minutes from whatever I had in the fridge and yet... tasted absurdly, unfairly good.

I didn't say a word; just cleaned my plate while Xu finished her own.

"So... you gonna tell me who made you cry?" She said halfway through our silence, just when I thought she was going to settle with making me dinner and seeing me without my makeup on.

I made her promise to keep whatever I was about to tell her to herself before confirming that, well, it wasn't as though she had many friends any way and even if she told her only friend, aka nerd boy, he wasn't the kind to tell anyone else either. So... unfortunate or not, I ended up spilling the tea.

Compared to Lindy who was technically both my stepmother and one of my culinary instructors, Xu was, like... a nobody. Which oddly made it easier to delve a little deeper on how I was actually feeling about the situation with dad, and the fact that I was entrusted the fifteenth place in the second round in order to advance to the next.

I mean, clearly, now that I knew what was going on and that the truth was no matter how hard we worked to win the interschool, we wouldn't be able to unless dad gets exposed and I get discredited for everything I did up till this point. So obviously, I wasn't feeling too good on whether or not I actually deserved the advancement to round three. Like, I was kind of, sort of the main reason everyone was going to lose. Then nerd boy can take my place anyway, so that meanwhile, I could at least set my mind on dad and Layla Tenner before Pierre gets ahead of himself and causes more trouble. At least I had Lindy on my side.

Xu was surprisingly quiet while I let her in on the details, only reacting in terms of facial expressions and gasping and stuff even though there were times she clearly had something to say but would cover her mouth with both her hands to stop herself from interrupting me. Which was kind of nice.

"Wait, so," she uncovered her mouth after I done. "The thing with Layla Tenner quitting school and all—that... that had to do with Headmaster Birchwood? Wait, but, so then, but wasn't he...? Didn't the judges for the cross-year say anything or... did he somehow convince them?"

Already, I was being the most clear-headed I could be about this whole fiasco. "I don't know, okay? He somehow got them to forfeit whatever she did but that's so not like my dad, I just know it. He wouldn't do something like that... Tenner was our ticket to winning the interschool but not only that, like, he wouldn't... sabotage a student, I. I don't know..."

Xu slumped onto the table. Her pixie cut was actually a very good decision for her face shape. "Maybe he's desperate. Like, Sasuke-angst desperate. The Pierre guy threatened him with the uh, the buying you into the convention thing... and uh, stuff happened... sorry, I can't connect the dots like how Vanilla does it, so like I'm kinda useless here. Plus, if you're looking for someone to expose your dad and Pierre in an objective...? Manner? Vanilla's, like, the best writer I know of. I mean, you and I basically know one writer from the Chronicle."

I paused. Re-wiring.

"What's Vanilla?"

"Uhhhh." She was back to doing that weird sound whenever she had to fill the silence and search for words, jumping from thought to thought and I could literally see it happening in her brain. Her awkward and stiff face muscles gave everything away and almost at once, I could tell that this wasn't free information and then, I made the connection. Told you I was a genius.

"So that's what 'V' stands for?"

Xu sat up and rubbed her hands together like she was praying and pleading. "I don't think you're supposed to know this ohmygod can we redo the past two minutes like I promise I'll do better just forget everything I said like please my life depends on it and I can't have you making fun of my best friend on social media or laughing in his face."

This got me frowning. "Huh? What are you talking about? I don't have time to do all that. I'm just surprised 'cuz like... what? I thought it stood for Viktor or Vincent or, or Vladimir or Vaughn or something evil along those lines."

"Wait WHAT?" She burst out laughing. "Does he look like a Vincent?"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "I don't know, don't most villains have names that start with a 'V'? He's like, a know-it-all villain so I wasn't surprised when he had a 'V' in his name but to think it was something all soft and cutesy like Vanilla. Ew. I'm stealing his birth certificate and changing it to Vladimir."

Xu literally cackled and it was oddly contagious. But then she dropped the next sentence that made me double, triple-think about my life. "Okay, but, like, your name starts with a 'V' too."

We were silent. Then I stood up to do the dishes and she joined me at the sink, still thinking about the name thing before I somewhat arrived at a miraculous conclusion that maybe people whose names started with 'V's were somewhat destined to be the frontline of our battle against everything that we stood for.

Wow. I am actually a genius.

===============

A/N: AAAh!! This, my beans, is the start of le drama and I can't wait for more! I'm so sorry it's kind of short in terms of scene numbers even though the content is still around 5.6k words but I really took to fleshing out Violet's character and love that she ultimately plays an important role in the entire story unlike the many other female antagonists I have in my other work. I always enjoy writing her POV (the language is hilarious and though I will personally never speak or think in such a manner, it's hilarious to attempt to).

Next Wednesday (instead of Thursday), I will be updating 'Not Good for the Heart' on Inkitt instead of the main plot of Vanilla ;-; because Xandie's birthday hehe. So for my beans here, I'll see you on Sunday for MOARRR JUICY PLOT!!

-Cuppsss