Chapter 22: The Final Exam

Wall had never seen his boss so upset. "What is wrong, Sir?"

"Where to begin?" Mario set the paper down and swiveled back and forth in his chair. "This new restaurant, Haunted House Dressing, here's another article written about it. Just listen to these quotes. 'The atmosphere is an adventure matched only by the adventure in my mouth.' 'This is definitely the best place in town.' 'With a pun as good as Haunted House Dressing, how could this place go wrong?' And on and on! But do you know what the worst part is, Wall?"

"I do not, Sir."

"The new chef is that bane of a child, Einstein Masters." Mario touched the patch over his eye. "I hated him for what he did to me. But what really makes my Italian blood boil is that he's trying to destroy my business."

"Sir, you are not really Italian."

"I'm aware of that! The point is, I don't want this Haunted House Dressing to fade away, like we did to the others. I want them ruined. I want them to taste the bitter flavor of defeat. I want--"

"I understand, Sir."

"Good." He stood. "Now go!"

"It is my night off, Sir."

"Oh. Yes. I forgot. Tomorrow then."

***

Ein dreamt of a giant maze. He ran through the labyrinth, stumbling at every turn, running from a rabid Ratty blazing behind him. He dreamt of Mrs. Kyoto pressing a button and cackling, making him fall into a pit of rats. He dreamt of the words of his exam paper dancing about so no matter what he marked, he'd always be wrong. He dreamt of his head expanding and expanding, until finally--BOOM!

But like most of Ein's expectations in life, these ones didn't come true. Not even close. In fact, the final exam was normal and boring. Mrs. Kyoto sat at her desk and didn't say a word, except for her instructions at the beginning. Even when he handed in his paper, she took his work and ignored him.

The time after the final, however, as a different story.

Because Chucky was waiting for him outside of the classroom. "So how did you do on the test, myself, I think I did ok, but can you believe how disgusting those Freud questions were, I mean, was he a pervert or what, wouldn't his time be better spend thinking about other things than--"

"Stop it, Chucky. Don't pretend like everything's fine between us."

"What are you talking about, Ein, maybe if you explained why you're upset, I could--"

"You want to know why? For starters, you break my best friend's heart and act like it never happened. Then you start going out with the girl of my dreams and you don't even have the decency to tell me. Listen to me, Chucky. I believe in true love. And if you really love Daisy, fine, I won't get in your way. But I thought we were friends. You haven't even told me you're sorry about hurting me."

"Ein, I have no clue what you're talking about, but I intend to find out, because--"

"That's it, Chucky. Unless you can at least admit to what you've done right now, then I can't be your friend anymore."

"Ein, I really have no idea what you're--"

"Ok, Chucky. You made your decision. Goodbye."

"But--"

"Goodbye."

***

Ein's final exam had ended before his usual class ended, so he still had time before he needed to get to the restaurant. And since he wasn't really in a sociable mood at the moment, he went home and into his room.

Just his luck, his good buddy was sitting beside his bed, waiting. "Greetings, Ein."

"I'm really not in the mood for your games right now, Vincent."

"That isn't very best-buddy of you, Ein."

"Actually, Vincent, it is. Friends don't just act happy around each other all the time. It's not all pleasantries. Sometimes you share how you're really feeling. And my feelings right now are, I want you out of here."

Vincent didn't move. He just sighed. "Your emotions are noted, but the reason I came here is to share some of my feelings. So if I may."

Ein sat on his bed. He didn't like where this was heading. "Go ahead."

"I was thinking. I really do like Sunflower, but I've realized that my chances of winning her heart are slim. So I decided that if I couldn't date the woman I like, then you…well, I went to the Waitress Girl's restaurant, and--"

Ein was boiling over inside. "I don't want to hear it, Vincent. I know you wanted to savor this moment of destroying the last of my hope, but I won't give you that pleasure. I hope you realize that I couldn't even fake being friends with you. You're a spoiled Jerk Boy and you always will be. You might as well run back to your daddy and beg for him to take you back, so you can buy some friends, cause there's no other way you're ever going to get any."

Vincent sat in silence for a while. He stood, reached in his pocket, and handed over the contents. "Here."

It was the pictures.

Vincent headed for the door, stopped and said, "I never showed them to her," then he left.

***

The moment Ein stepped into the kitchen, he felt a whole lot better. He was able to forget about everything that had happened today, and just cook. Well, he was able to forget until--

"Do you know where Vincent is?" Princess said. "Him and Old Hobo Joe haven't come to work for a while. Is he still sick?"

"Yeah. I think so." Ein didn't want to talk about Vincent anymore, so he said, "How's it look out there today?"

"Busy. And…well, there's something you should know."

"What?"

"I don't want to put you under any pressure, but there's a food critic out there. Sunflower says he rarely writes any good reviews, but when he does, the people really take him seriously. Not that you should worry about it. Even if he gives you a bad review, there are other food critics out there."

Ein felt his head puffing and his sweat glands crying. "I guess you're right."

"Oh…and there's something else."

"What?"

Princess looked at her feet. "Well, Sunflower said that this was the best opportunity we had to schedule an eating contest, so I can showcase my skills. I already told him about the contest, and he's going to write about it in his review. It's like free advertising. The thing is, less people will show up to the contest, if we get a bad review. I wanted to tell you all this beforehand, so it didn't come as a surprise. But listen to me when I tell you this, there's no pressure at all."

"Right."

"Seriously, Ein. Don't freak out."

"I won't, I won't. Has he ordered something yet?"

"He says he wants to be surprised."

"Great."

Princess left.

And Ein freaked out.

***

Luckily, Ein stopped freaking out when he started cooking. He didn't actually know what he was preparing until he finished preparing it.

He handed it over to Princess. "I hope he likes it."

Princess handed the plate back. "He wants you to serve it to him personally. But no pressure."

Ein swallowed hard, and exited the kitchen with the food. "Where is he?"

"Right there." Princess pointed.

Not him. Why did it have to be him.

Ein walked over and placed the food before the hatted man. "Here you go, Mr. Cowboy."

The Cowboy tipped his hat. "Thank ya kindly, Mr. Chef." He studied Ein closely, then said, "Well if it ain't that boy who had that seein-eye rat! You manage ta cook while yer blind?"

Ein's head got bigger. He'd forgotten about that whole faking-blindness thing. He couldn't keep living that lie forever. Somebody would figure it out. "Actually, that was temporary blindness. I can see and the seeing-eye rat isn't here anymore."

The Cowboy stared at him, then said, "I see." He looked down at the plate. "Now what do we got here? Some sorta pasta?"

"It's curry. Do you like curry?" Ein held his breath.

"I don't surly know what curry is, but as long as it's not too spicy, I'll be just fine." He brought a fork of the mound to his mouth.

"Wait!"

But it was too late. The Cowboy was already chewing.

And Ein realized that he'd used the hottest curry powder in the kitchen, maybe even the world.

The Cowboy cried. Tears rode the wrinkles of his face.

"Are you…ok, Mr. Cowboy?" Ein said.

The Cowboy looked up and squinted. "By golly, what did ya put in this here stuff? I feel like I just kissed a gosh-darn dragon."

"I…uh, I apologize. I didn't know you didn't like hot--"

"Yer right about that there. Can't stand hot foods."

"I'm really sorry."

"Mama never cook nothing like that when I were a boy. Sometimes I wish she was still cookin fer me everyday, so I didn't havta go round ta all these eatin places and get these mouth-whoopins."

Ein looked over at Princess, and told her he was sorry with his eyes.

Princess shook her head, saying that it was ok. Though he could tell that she was worried. Her dream was on the line here.

"But I tell ya what," the Cowboy said. "Fer a food I hate, I sure do like it."

Ein exhaled with relief.

The Cowboy stabbed his fork into the curry again. This time he pulled up--

A scorpion!

"Now what in tarnation is this doin in here?"

Ein opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"What kinda flavor this has, I wonder." The Cowboy opened his mouth and stuck in the scorpion. He chewed. "Kinda strange tastin. Wouldn't recommend somethin like this ta my mama."

Ein's head was so heavy he was afraid he was going to topple over.

Then the Cowboy motioned for Ein to lean forward. Ein obeyed, and the Cowboy whispered, "Now I'll tell ya a little secret. I done lost most o' my taste buds years ago in a pig wrestlin accident. When I'm writin these reviews, I really don't much care about how things taste, since I can't taste it anyway. I usually judge a place by how much I like the chef. And you know what? Ya got guts, kid. Yer the kinda person who can changa person's whole opinion about things they think they know, things they like. I tell ya, I look around, and I see people enjoyin their meals. Explorin new frontiers. Now ya go over there and tell them girls the good news. Then get back inta that kitchen, and make me some seconds."

***

Ein really wasn't sure what Vincent meant when he said, "I never showed them to her." Maybe Vincent had just wanted to pretend that he'd showed the pictures to her, to see what agony it caused Ein. Maybe Vincent meant that he had told Waitress Girl that Ein had kissed somebody, without showing her the pictures as proof. But Ein kept thinking about Vincent's face, and he couldn't help but thinking that Vincent hadn't told Waitress Girl anything bad about him.

Maybe that was just Ein's hope talking. Or maybe it was the truth.

Either way, Ein didn't want to keep feeling bad, so he went to Vincent's cardboard castle.

Old Hobo Joe stood at the entrance with his arms crossed.

"Old Hobo Joe, I need to talk to him."

The old man shook his head.

"I'm not here to yell at him. Just talk."

Old Hobo Joe shook his head again. He was obviously under strict orders not to let anybody inside, no matter what.

Ein didn't know why, but he made a run for the inside. It was a stupid thing to do.

Old Hobo Joe jabbed both of Ein's legs.

Ein collapsed, and both his legs were numb. Not again. "You don't understand, Old Hobo Joe. This is important."

Old Hobo Joe didn't budge.

Ein used his arms to crawl toward the entrance.

Old Hobo Joe picked him up and was ready to throw him, when a voice spoke up from inside.

"Let him in, minion," Vincent said. "I'll see him."

Old Hobo Joe rolled Ein inside, and he was placed at the foot of Vincent's gold-spray-painted lawn-chair throne.

"You have a minute," Vincent said.

Ein managed to sit up. "I don't know why, maybe I'm naïve, but I've somehow convinced myself that you weren't out to get me today. I'll probably regret this, but here." Ein reached into his pocket with a numbed hand. "Take them."

Vincent took the offering and studied it. "You're giving me the pictures?"

Ein nodded. "You gave me my pictures. It's only fair that I give you yours."

The hobo king dropped the photos and let them flutter to his feet. "If you think that this is going to make up for what you said to me, you're sadly mistaken. Underling! Get this Mean Boy out of my sight!"

Old Hobo Joe grabbed him from behind and tossed him outside.

Ein dragged himself home.