My First Day

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I stepped into the limo. This is it! My first day in the Masterchef kitchen! I hope I impress the chefs! The limo driver stepped on the gas pedal. I peered out the tinted windows. Toronto looked so fresh this time of year. It was mid September, but the cool, crisp air was no match for the electric heaters in the modern day limousine. The tall buildings, tinted with frost practically glowed against the silver, evening sky.

The sleek, black vehicle drew to a stop. I thanked the limo driver, bounded out, and lost my breath to the sight of the Masterchef kitchen. I stood there, gaping until a lady asked me what I was doing. I told her a random excuse from the top of my head: I had to wait for a few minutes before I could enter. I looked down, and hurried into the building.

At the door, I had to show 3 pieces of identification to the guard. I gladly pulled out my passport, drivers license, and birth certificate. The guard glanced at me, and back to my passport, probably making sure I'm the teen in the picture. He gave my papers back, and gave me directions to where I would be staying. Second floor, down the hallway to the right, third door on the left. I kept repeating that in my head, until I got to the door. Not knowing if I was alone or not, I knocked.

A short, blonde-haired girl opened the door. She looked my age. Carefully, she looked down and stepped aside allowing me to enter.

"Hi!" she smiled, once the door closed, "my name is Alora Gateau. What's yours?"

I was surprised at her outgoingness. She had seemed so shy at the door. I walked over to one of the remaining empty beds by the window in the 3 person room. I flopped on the covers, when I suddenly remembered her question.

"I'm Leah Drinsa. Nice to meet you, Alora."

There was a knock at the door. Alora and I both said "come in", and a bellboy rolled in a cart with my luggage.

"Wow!" exclaimed Alora, "Did you pack for a year? I'm not even sure I own this much stuff!"

"I know, I know, my friends always tease me for my over-packing habit." I told her. "Is it OK if I take this bed, Alora?" I asked, gesturing to the bed, now messy from my flopping. By now, the bellboy was gone, and my stuff on the floor.

"No ones stopping you! And, by the way, my friends call me Ally."

"OK, Ally."

There was yet another knock on the door. I skipped over to open it, and standing outside was a tall girl with strawberry-blonde hair and glasses.

"Hi! Come in and make yourself at home." I told her. She slowly dragged in her suitcases and bags. Closing the door behind her, the quiet girl strolled over to the remaining bed.

"My name is Alora Gateau. You can call me Ally. This is Leah Drinsa. Us three are roommates for our Masterchef journey, so we might as well make ourselves at home. What's your name?" Ally asked.

"My name is Melissa poulet, or Mel if you want. nice to meet both of you." Mel told us.

We talked to each other about our cooking talents and jobs, while we settled in. It turns out Mel is an expert at chicken and turkey recipes, and is a lawyer. Ally prefers to cook desserts like cake, muffins, cupcakes, and all that other fun stuff. She works for the medical assistance in the army. We talked until 10:00 then decided to sleep. So far, my Masterchef experience was a success!

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