The third pancake 5/10Mature

She grabbed my elbow and pulled me to the kitchen.
   “Guess what?”
   “What?”
   “Our shop has been advertised nationally since the national baking competition!” She screamed, jumping up and down like a little child.
   “Really?” I said, unconvinced.
“Do you think I would lie?! Your dad’s been smiling all morning. Now- we won’t have to worry about paying your tuition fees!”
   “That’s great mum. But wait…”
   “What?”

   “If uncle’s ill…who’s going to do his part of the cooking?
   “Oh!” She screamed, realising.
   “What should we do?” I asked desperately. I really didn’t have any time to help out in the kitchen anymore during weekdays, especially after college.
   “Wait- can’t you cook the pancakes?”
   “-But who’s going to be behind the cashier?”
   “That’s true,”
   “Jill! There’s a customer!” Dad called.
   “Ok- I’m coming!” She called, “Raina, you do some today, and we’ll discuss what happens if your uncle doesn’t get better after the weekend,”

    I decided to help with the cooking. I went to the cupboard and grabbed my apron. I put it on and tied it, so it fitted perfectly.
   “Right,” I put my hands together, “Where should we start?”
I took the opened packet of flour with my right hand and sprinkled some onto the sieve gently, hoping that none of it would go out of the boundary. Without realising, I scratched my nose, leaving marks of fear all over my face and see it when I look at the window.
   I placed the flour into the mixing bowl with the fluffy egg whites and I watched them mix together.
   “If only I could make it into K.I.C,” I stare into space thinking about all the wonderful things I would do if I did get the job of my dreams. I imagined being a hard worker, earning my respect and getting rewarded.
‘It seems like a dream,’
I sighed…before realising it was a dream. I suddenly snapped back into the real noise, world after hearing a funny noise.
   “Shit!” I shouted and leaped to the button. I carefully removed the lid. There, lying in front of me, was a liquidised mixture. Almost as hollow as water.
   “Oh no,”
Dad comes through the kitchen doors. He looks at me pityingly.

   “Raina, don’t tell me-“
   “-Yeah,”
   “Were you not-”

   “-Yeah,”
   “Raina! How are you supposed to look after the shop if you carry on like this?! You should take care of your cooking. The ingredients cost and the customers are hungry!”
   “Sorry, Dad,” I mumbled, with a grumpy face.
   “Come on- try heating that on the pan and see what happens,”
   “Yes,”
   “And stop daydreaming!” he called, before the door shuts. I look at the helpless    mixture before me, resting on my two hands.

The End

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