Sweetly & Home Economically ✔

Prologue

Home Economics.

I was most looking forward to it since the day began, so the spring in my high-heeled step was obvious to my classmates when I entered the room. They greeted me with warm and knowing smiles, fully aware of my happiness. I didn't necessarily know any of them that well, but I returned their welcome with a grin of my own.

It was all in my job description of being popular; I was expected to smile and be friendly to everyone. I was not a cheerleader by any means; I couldn't back flip, cartwheel, do the splits, or even jump very high. Look up 'flexible' in the dictionary and there would be a picture of me with a big red X across my image. I definitely wasn't rich and rolling in dough.

Well, maybe a different kind of dough...

I also didn't have that stereotypical Queen Bee personality. There was only one reason why I was considered popular.

Stressed Bakery.

My mom's bakery was a hot spot for all teens. Though in our small town it was a hot spot for everyone with it's free WiFi, steaming cappuccinos, and the best desserts around. Because I worked there after school, I saw my fellow students there all of the time and served them their treats and coffee.

The student discount was the cherry on top. My two best friends told me it was also my kindness towards others, selfless acts, and willingness to help whenever asked. Or in other words: I could be a pushover.

My friends might not share the same love of baking with me. They did share a love of eating though, so it balanced out. I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to hang me by my ankles and shake me to see if any cupcakes fall out. Part of me wished they were here. We would get in so much trouble together, I thought, smiling to myself. Maybe it's best they aren't here after all.

I held my head high and walked to the last available table. The classroom was organized with two seats at each work station. The thought of sharing the small space with someone else led me to frown. Cooking with others wasn't the issue. I was used to it, usually at the bakery or at home with my parents. Cooking with someone I wasn't close to however, did not sound good to me.

As I took my seat, I prayed I didn't get stuck with someone who would expect me to do all of the work because of who I was and my cooking experience. My prayers were answered when the teacher walked in and closed the door. Surely it meant there wasn't anyone else. Who would be late to Home Ec? I reasoned with a relieved sigh.

"Hello, class," the woman addressed us with a kind expression. Her brown hair was tied back in a low bun, and she had bright red lipstick on. A shade that I was almost sure I owned too. "My name is Mrs. Cordier. This semester we will be learning our way around the kitchen." Her middle-aged yet elegantly beautiful face turned serious and her voice stern, "So if you can't stand the heat, get out of my class."

Her pointed look across the room made students flinch and lower their eyes. I sat, unaffected, with my lips upturned. I like her already...

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Cordier relaxed her shoulders slightly. She slid some thin reading glasses above the tip of her petite nose as she glanced at the paper in her hand. "So let's begin with introductions, shall we? When I call your name, please stand up and say something about yourself. Such as," she paused, thinking for a moment. "How about your favorite food to eat or make?"

It wasn't long until she reached the letter H in the alphabet.

"Abigail Hensley."

I stood up confidently and flattened the skirt of my polka dot dress. When I opened my mouth to speak, the door suddenly burst open. The words were caught in my throat as my mouth hung open from shock at the person who entered the classroom.