Always You (Barker Sisters Book 1) by Haley Zaragoza

Author:Haley Zaragoza [Zaragoza, Haley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

11

Ellis

I am quickly learning that I despise cooking. I dragged Valerie along with me for this third task since Josiah was busy, and I think she’s almost as miserable as I am. I found a cooking class through the local community college. It’s every Thursday night for six weeks. I was so excited it happened to fall on one of my nights off, but now I’m not so sure it’s the blessing I initially thought it was.

The teacher is a haggard old woman who looks like she just wants to move into a cabin in the middle of nowhere and never see another human being for the rest of her miserable life. And honestly, after interacting with her for five seconds, I really think she should go for it. She’s so mean that she shouldn’t be allowed to be around the general public.

I know it’s ridiculous that I didn’t previously know how to properly chop vegetables, but I wasn’t harming anyone with my incorrect methods. I got the job done efficiently enough—or so I thought. Mrs. Josephine let me know otherwise, though, and she yelled at me as I attempted to chop an onion and bell pepper the proper way. At least I was able to blame my tears on the onion. I don’t want everyone in the class to know I was actually crying because I was scared of the five-foot, seventy-year-old woman.

I’m starting to think Mrs. Josephine doesn’t actually want anyone to enjoy cooking, because she’s making everyone in this room miserable. Earlier, a poor eighteen-year-old girl ran out of the room sobbing because Mrs. Josephine threw her homemade pasta in the trash. She said it was garbage and only fit for the opossums and raccoons to eat. It was downright ruthless. Valerie took pictures for proof that it really happened.

“Ellis, how much more of this torture must we endure?” Valerie asks as she drops her homemade pasta into a pot of boiling water. On one hand, I really want to see how the pasta turns out. I’ve never eaten homemade pasta, and I don’t know when or if I’ll get another chance. But on the other hand, I’m tired of shaking in my boots every time Mrs. Josephine walks by. I’m one mean look or word away from joining the eighteen-year-old and running out of here in tears. There are so many other things I could be doing with my night off—actually fun things.

I look around the room. Everyone in the class looks so sad. This can’t be what the school was hoping for when they started this class. I turn off both our burners on our stovetop, and Valerie’s eyes are full of relief.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re an angel! A goddess! The most merciful mistress!” she says in the worst version of a British accent I’ve ever heard. Heads around the room are turning to look at us, curious as to how we’re happy at a time like this.

We grab our things and run out the door, listening to the shouts of the evil dictator, Mrs.

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