Mirror Mirror on the wall, who's the baddest of them all?
That would be Stefan Chase, the ultimate bad boy that had ever lived. Why? Oh, not because he rode a motorbike, wore a leather jacket or smoked a cigarette - nope, this guy was much worse tha...
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C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N
"Two blocks of halva?!" Mom shrieked. "How many pieces are there?!"
"U-um..." Mom's new cooking assistant stuttered frightendely, as he pulled out a shaky finger and began to count them one by one.
Mom rolled her eyes. "Raiya?"
"Eighty-two pieces in one," I replied immediately. "Which means one hundred and sixty-four pieces altogether."
Mom's hands immediately went to rub her temples. "There are two hundred and seventy-four guests today."
I cringed. "That means each serving is 0.598... approximately 0.6 of a piece."
"You should've been able to make double the blocks with the amount of time I had given you!" Mom cried in her mother tongue, but the assistant didn't understand a thing because he was Bengali. "You are fired!"
She turned away from the devastated boy. Poor guy, but mom was right. Actually more than right — Mentally calculating, he could've made 3.232 times the amount with the time he had. But I chose not to share that information with my mom, for the sake of the poor boy's health; to prevent ear damage.
"Mom, would you like me to help—"
"—Never." Mom immediately replied, staring me down. I gulped as I could see the fire in her hazel-green eyes that were identical to mine, the same fire that I caused three years ago when my mom decided to teach me how to cook. I was banned from entering the kitchen for the rest of that year. "Go get dressed! Guests will be arriving anytime now. Make sure you wear that light-pink lehenga."
I nodded, and sighed as I made my way out of the kitchen.
"Raiya." I halted in the middle of the hallway as dad called my name, walking through the front door and towards me.
"Yes baba?" I asked nervously. My father was a scary man, especially lookwise. Have I mentioned that before?
He stood right in front of me, and crossed his arms assertively. "Why were you talking to Henry's boy?"
I swallowed. "W-What do you mean baba?"
Dad's eyes narrowed. "I saw you today, talking to that boy in front of his house. Explain."
Oh, shoot.
"Uh... I was just..." Dad's eyes grew more suspicious as I struggled to explain. Think, Raiya, think! "Making sure his family are coming tonight. Mom wanted me to."
