Im nerdy...... And secretly Super

This ain't NO Cinderella Story?!

Chapter 7: This ain't NO Cinderella Story?!

Blaire

Crap! I'm going to be late again!

Sprinting as fast as I could down the school's hallways (without face-planting), I raced towards my next class. I was halfway through the school day, with only lunch and science to go. Ever since this morning's Cody encounter, I have been out of it.

Seriously.... I was still in such a daze, that when my Maths teacher asked me, 'If I have five bottles in one hand and three in the other, how many do I have?'

My answer?

'A drinking problem.'

Yea. Not so much the favourite student anymore. Pfft! As if I was any good at that subject anyway! If you read closely, you can see the hidden meaning behind why the subjects called MATH.

MATH= Mental. Abuse. To. Humans.

So very true.

Spotting my classroom number, I shoved open the doors with a loud 'BANG!' All heads turned to face me as soon as they heard the loud noise. Giving them an awkward smile, I strolled to the back bench and swung my bag off my back.

My cooking teacher Mrs. Wallburt, gave me a chilling stare, as she said, "You're late."

No. Really? Thanks for stating the obvious.

A small blush formed on my cheeks, as all the attention was still on me. Ducking my head, I watched as I twiddled my thumbs nervously.

Mrs.Wallburt cleared her throat. "Ok. Today class, we are going to be learning how to cook Waffles."

The class oohed and aahed. I bit my lip and just rolled my eyes. Great. Another recipe I can learn to completely destroy. Yea.... turns out I'm much like my Dad when it comes to cooking. Too impatient, prefer to use powers and tend to burn the shit out of everything. Add my clumsiness, and you've got yourself the world's greatest Disaster Chef.

Someone calling my name, snapped me out of my thoughts. "Blaire? Blaire!"

Looking up, I found everyone staring at me once again. Oh crap. What's happening?

Mrs. Wallburt called my name again, "Blaire, you shall be my cooking assistant for today's lesson I think."

Standing up, the high pitched squeaking noise of my chair broke the intense silence of the classroom.  I gulped, as I met some of the vultures piercing gazes. Otherwise known as my classmates.

Oh no. This is bad. This is very bad. Me and cooking? One word.... Nuclear. I've tried to cook so many times, and not one of those experiences turned out good. Trust me, I should know. It took me seventy two trips to the emergency room to get the message through my head, that I should not be allowed to step foot inside a kitchen.

As I got to the front of the room, I faced Mrs. Wallburt, wiping away the beads of sweat that had gathered across my forehead.

She smiled at me. Oh boy.  "Okay Blaire, this recipe is very simple. Don't look so frightened, there is no chance of any injury or risk of you getting hurt," she joked.

Oh, I'm not worried about my safety. Although YOU should.

"Ok, now can you please pour me two cups of flour? It's underneath that bench right there."

Doing as she said, I peeked under the bench and spotted two white bags. Spotting the one that said, 'Flour,' I picked it up and dropped it on top of the bench top. Snatching the bowel, I lugged the opening of the bag over the side and began pouring.