The Cooking Disaster

Dear Readers,

Hi, this is Jessie.

Today was the first day of my summer cooking class.

And let's just say it didn't go so hot.

So, when we got there, Noah and I found ourselves sitting at this table in the middle school's cooking team's kitchen by the science labs. Ladasha, Maya, Summer, and Maurice all arrived. Maya was grumpily listening to Summer and Ladasha argue over shoe brands while Maurice sat nearby, looking bored. Each girl was used to being the most popular, but they'd had to settle for being in a popular group together.

Maurice was still the most popular guy.

Other then like Noah.

Yeah.

*awkward*

Several other kids came in, but I didn't really recognize any of them. They all had that "sort of familiar" look that I knew was because I'd seen them in the hallways at school.

Anyway, so we were just sitting there obediently (Me: I'm bored. Noah: I bet I'm more bored. Me: Don't count on it.) when all of a sudden a voice boomed from behind us, "HELLO, KIDS! WELCOME TO YOUR SUMMER COOKING CLASS! I'M MRS. KARP!"

We all turned, a little bit horrified by her loud voice. In front of us was the dread huge, fat, and ugly sixth grade history teacher that was rumored to have put the mayor to sleep in class as a kid. (and he makes the most boring speeches) She looked like a decaying dinosaur, except not quite as pretty. Her hair should've been white, but it was dyed a violent red, teased up into a huge beehive hairdo. Large black glasses sat like a block on her Roman nose. She wore old ucky eighties clothes that would've made us die if our mothers had even tried it on.

Oh my gosh.

This couldn't be real!

"We're going to die," groaned Noah under his breath.

"I HOPE YOU'RE ALL COMFY," she went on, "BECAUSE NOW YOU'RE IN MY CLASS! AND IN MY CLASS, 'COMFY' ISN'T IN OUR VOCABULARY! NOW, WHO WANTS TO START COOKING?!"

Nobody raised their hands.

"EXCELLENT! LET'S START WITH THE BAKED POTATO!"

Baked potato? What kind of a cooking class was this?!

"I'M BREAKING YOU INT GROUPS! YOU, YOU, YOU, AND YOU, TOGETHER! YOU, YOU, YOU, AND YOU, TOGETHER! YOU, YOU, YOU, AND YOU, TOGETHER! AND YOU?!" I was the last kid left, and she was giving me the evil eye. "YOU'LL BE COOKING WITH ME, YOUNG LADY!"

I was definitely going to die.

Noah was off with some kids that we didn't know, and the popular kids were all split up. Mrs. Karp grabbed my arm and hauled me over to another table so that it was just the two of us.

"WELL, GET COOKING!" she yelled, sitting down and putting her feet up on the table. She grabbed a book with a name that didn't look so great and started to read.

I stared at the table. A potato, fork, and plate were in front of me. I got to work, and placed the ready potato into the microwave when I was done, putting it on for... I glanced over my shoulder at Mrs. Karp. How long was I supposed to cook just one potato? At home, we always made four. (one for each of my parents and two for me, because I was always starving) So how long did you just cook one potato?

"Um, Mrs. Karp...?" I started.

"DON'T TALK, JUST COOK!" she shouted back at me.

I cringed, and put the potato in, my finger hesitating over the quick-cook numbers. Finally, I clicked the five. I was cooking it for five minutes. Yeah. That was right. Right?

I sat down awkwardly at the table, starting to twiddle my thumbs. Was that potato done yet? I avoided looking at Mrs. Karp, looking all around the room. I closed my eyes for a few moments.

What woke me up sounded like a hand grenade.

Someone screamed.

I jumped out of my chair and turned around.

My potato was exploding in the microwave!

"YEEK!" I cried, jumping over and turning it off.

I yanked open the door. The fizzled potato looked like garbage. A few more pops, and then it was only the smoke.

"THERE'S A FIRE!" one of the girls screamed.

Well... let's just say the fire alarm went off and we all got rushed out of there. I didn't want to go back the next week, but Mom made me.

So, yeah.

Could it get any worse?!

Love,
Jessie

*fictional