The competition is down to seven, but all it takes is one accident for the most remarkable thing to happen.
For @loveyprophet, Merry Christmas!
The doors swung open as the children made their way into the MasterChef kitchen. No matter how many times they walked through those doors, it didn’t become any less intimidating. They made their way into the massive room with balconies looking down on the rows of shining stainless steel benches. The younger kids sprinted ahead, making their way up to the front of the room where the three chefs stood, fighting smiles at the sight of their ecstatic faces.
There was seven of them left in the competition.
Derek was the eldest in the competition; he was thirteen years old. He was quiet and tended to hide in the farthest bench. He didn’t talk much, but everyone had noticed the way his eyes would drift to the boy at the bench in front of him, watching Stiles intently.
Stiles was twelve years old but always seemed to think too fast for the rest of his body to keep up. He was hyperactive and tended to struggle with things.
Beside him stood Isaac, the youngest of the competition. The boy was eight years old and barely reached Stiles’ ribs when he stood up tall. His sapphire blue eyes were always wide and curious, and his sandy-blonde curls were a tangled mess atop his head.
Beside Isaac was Erica, the nine-year-old who tended to get a little bossy when she’s stressed. Her thick blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a long pony tail and she nervously balled her hands into fists again and again.
Boyd, the ten-year-old standing next to her, reached out and took her hand in his. Erica bowed her head, trying to hide her bashful smile and the soft rosy blush that coloured her cheeks. Boyd just smiled, his eyes still focused on the judges.
Gordon had to turn his face away for a second, struggling to smother his smile and regain his composure.
The final two children left in the competition was eleven-year-old Scott, who was sweet on ten-year-old Allison—always looking at her with his dark brown doe eyes.
A large curtain was set up behind them, obscuring their challenge of the day. The billowing red velvet swayed slightly as the judges welcomed them all back into the kitchen and began to introduce the next challenge in the competition.
“We’ve got a very special treat for you today,” Graham said, a smile lighting his face. He took a step back and let the billowing curtain drop to the ground on cue.
The room let out a collective gasp as they stared at the table full of sugar-dusted doughnuts, delicately decorated cupcakes, rich chocolate cakes, pastel-coloured cake pops, colourful macrons, and tiramisu.
“Desserts,” Graham said.
“You all have one hour to make a dessert that is rich in flavour but light enough that you could eat it after a three-course meal,” Joe added. “Your sixty minutes start…”
The kids braced themselves to run, the younger ones taking a step forward and crouching as if they were about to start a race.
“Now.”
The kids hurried into the pantry, grabbing the wire baskets and gathering the ingredients they’d need. It was a frantic flurry of movement as they each hurried to find what they needed.
Stiles gathered the ingredients he needed and watched out the corner of his eyes as Isaac rose onto his toes and began to pile apples into his basket.
Across the room, Derek stepped up the shelves that were stocked full of herbs, spices and bakery ingredients.
Isaac nearly ran into him as he slid to a stop, standing on his toes as he strained to look at the jars on the shelf. He reached for one, his fingers straining as he grabbed the nutmeg and put it in his basket.
“Where’s the cinnamon?” he said quietly to himself.
Derek reached out, picking the jar up and handing it to the boy.
Isaac smiled sweetly. “Thank you,” he said before hurrying out of the kitchen and back to his workstation.
Derek grabbed the box of cocoa powder, checking the he had everything in his basket before heading back to his workstation at the back of the room. He returned to get a mixer and some baking trays, smothering a laugh as he watched Isaac do the same with an electric mixer that was almost as big as him.
Derek set his equipment down on the table before hurrying over to help Isaac lift the heavy mixer onto the counter. He picked up a small stool that sat at the end of the workshop and nudged it into place in front of the counter, smiling as Isaac thanked him again.
They fell silent as they started cooking, all intensely focused on what they were cooking.
After about fifteen minutes, Gordon Ramsey began to walk along the benches, talking to each of the children, tasting what they had cooked so far, and offering hints where they were needed.
Finally, he came close enough that Derek could hear what he was saying.
“What are you making, Isaac?” Gordon asked encouragingly.
“I’m making mini apple pies with a cinnamon and nutmeg crust,” the boy answered.
“That sounds so good,” Gordon said. “Where did you learn to make these?”
“My brother and I used to make them for our mum before she got sick,” Isaac replied, looking up at his brother, Camden, who smiled back at him from where he stood on the balcony.
“I’m sure we’ll love them as much as she did,” Gordon said softly. “I’ll leave you to it.”
The man made his way to the next counter, watching as Stiles frantically moved back and forth across the space, his hands shaking slightly as he struggled to keep up with his racing thoughts.
“What are you working on, Stiles?” Gordon asked.
“It’s a traditional Polish sernik – or, cheesecake – with chocolate sauce and walnuts,” Stiles explained.
“That sounds delicious,” Gordon said, dipping a spoon into the cheesecake mix and tasting it. “Tastes delicious too. Where did you learn to make this?”
“It’s my Babka’s recipe,” Stiles replied.
“You ever make it for your girlfriend?” Gordon teased.
Stiles shook his head. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“What about a boyfriend?”
Stiles’ face flushed red as he shook his head.
“If you don’t have a boyfriend, I think Derek over there is sweet for you. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you.”
Derek’s eyes flew open wide. He dropped his gaze, his heart hammering as he tried to focus on his cooking.
Gordon let out a soft chuckle, watching as both the boys’ faces turned bright red. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it.”
After that, time seemed to pass. Stiles focused his attention on his dish; crushing the biscuits into crumbs and mixing in butter and sugar before pressing the mix into the bottom of the pan to make a crust. He mixed together the filling, adding crushed vanilla bean before pouring it into the baked crust and setting it aside in the fridge to set.
There was a loud crash and a pained yelp.
Stiles bolted upright, his eyes catching the sight of Isaac falling to his knees. He ran around his counter and sprinted to the boy’s side.
The boy was on the floor, curled up on himself and cradling his hand to his chest. Beside him sat the saucepan he had been cooking the apple filling in, the pan sizzling on the floor. The caramelised apple was spilt across the floor, wisps of steam rising from it.
“Isaac?” he said softly, steadying his hands on the boy’s shoulders and encouraging the boy to look up at him. Stiles noticed the blistering red welt that covered the palm of the hand that Isaac cradled to his chest.
Tears streamed down the boy’s pale cheeks, his shoulders rising and falling with frantic breaths.
“It’s okay,” he whispered soothingly, smoothing back the boy’s unruly curls. “It’s alright.”
A medic team raced over to their side.
“I’m not going to finish,” Isaac sobbed.
“Yes, you are,” Stiles said, determined. “I’m going to clean this up for you and then I’m going to help you. You are going to finish.”
Stiles grabbed a cloth and wet it, using it to hold the hot pan before dumping it in the sink. He started to clean up the mess on the floor when a pair of shoes came into his peripheral vision. He looked up to see Derek set a pile of apples down on the counter. He grabbed a knife and began to dice them, setting them in a clean pan.
Once Stiles had finished cleaning, he grabbed another knife and helped Derek dice the apples, measuring out the sugar and water.
“I’ve got this if you need to go finish yours,” Stiles said.
“My cake’s in the oven,” Derek replied. “I’ve got twenty minutes to spare.”
A sweet, thankful smile lifted the corner of Stiles’ lips.
“Can you imagine those two cooking together in the kitchen in a few years’ time?” they heard Gordon tease.
Derek moved the pan to the stove and began to cook the sauce. Stiles turned his attention to the crust.
A sniffling Isaac joined him, his hand wrapped in a thick white bandage and covered in a glove. His cheeks were stained with tears and his lips still quivered.
“Tell me how you want me to do it and I’ll do it,” Stiles said.
Isaac’s voice was quiet as he gave Stiles instructions. Stiles did as he was told, mixing together the ingredients and kneading the dough. He rolled it flat, letting Isaac cut out the circles and press them into the metal cups of the muffin tray.
Derek helped spoon the caramelised apple into the pans before heading back to his workbench to finish his meal. Stiles helped Isaac weave the top of the pie crusts into a lattice before putting the tray in the oven.
“Tell me when they’re done, and I’ll help you get them out of the oven, okay?” he said.
Isaac nodded, thanking Stiles again before collecting plates and slicing up another apple – ready for plating.
Stiles returned to his bench and began to mix together cocoa powder, sugar and water. He brought it to a simmer and began to stir, slowly adding in butter, vanilla and cream. He took the sauce off the stove and poured it over the top of the cheesecake, smoothing it out before putting it back in the fridge.
He gathered plates and opened the jar of walnuts sitting on the bench next to him.
“Stiles?” Isaac said quietly, his bright blue eyes peering over the edge of the tall workbench.
“Are they done?” Stiles asked.
Isaac nodded.
“Okay,” Stiles said with a smile, making his way around the bench and collecting the oven mitts. He lifted the tray out of the oven and set it up on the cooling rack. “If I get them out onto the cooling rack, will you be okay to plate up?”
Isaac nodded again, passing Stiles the butterknife he was holding.
Stiles slid the knife around the crust, popping the small pies from the tin and setting them down on the wire cooling rack. Once done, he set the hot tray in the sink and ran cool water over it, letting it hiss and steam.
“Thank you,” Isaac called after him.
“You’re welcome,” Stiles replied as he pulled his cheesecake from the cooler and began to plate up.
A short while later, the judges’ voices rang out as they counted down. “Hands up,” they called out.
The kids raised their hands, the finished dishes sitting before them on the benches. The judges called the kids forward, one by one, tasting the desserts they had dished up and offering them compliments and feedback.
Finally, Stiles was called up. He picked up the dished plate and carried it over to the judges, setting it down on the table and taking a step back.
Joe stepped forward, picking up a spoon and tasting the cheesecake.
“Stiles, you and Derek did something amazing today,” Joe said. “And I’m not talking about the desserts you made—as amazing as they are. You two did something so selfless. You two set aside everything you’ve done to help someone you were competing against.”
“My mum always told me that t’s not a competition unless it’s fair,” Stiles said. “Isaac has worked just as hard as the rest of us to get this far, and I don’t think it would fair if he were to get eliminated because of an accident. And in any situation, whether this was a competition or not, people matter. And if someone gets hurt, I will always put them above anything I’m doing.”
A smile lifted the corners of Joe’s lips. “I think your mum would be very proud of you.” He looked up at the balcony that overlooked the kitchen. “What do you think, dad?”
John’s eyes glistened with tears as he nodded. “I think she’d be very proud.”
Stiles smiled up at his dad.
“Thank you, Stiles,” Joe said.
Stiles nodded and made his way back to his bench.
Isaac was the last to be called up.
“Isaac, can you bring your plate up to the front?” Gordon prompted.
The little boy’s hands shook as he carried the plate. The small apple pie was the size of a cupcake, the crust golden and dusted with sugar. Thin slices of apple and caramel sauce sat beside it as it was plated up with a scoop of ice cream.
“Just looking at that,” Gordon said as the boy set the plate on the table before the man. “It looks amazing.”
He collected a spoon and dug into the apple pie.
“The crust is the perfect mix of crunchy and crumbly,” the chef commented, lifting the spoon to his mouth. “That is delicious. You did a fantastic job, Isaac.”
“Thank you, chef,” the boy said quietly.
Gordon took a step back and Graham stepped forward, collecting another spoon and taking a bite of the apple pie.
“Life doesn’t always go your way, does it?” Graham said.
Isaac shook his head, his sandy-blonde curls bouncing about.
“And sometimes accidents happen, and sometimes we get hurt,” the man continued. “But you are so strong; you got back up on your feet and you kept going.”
“I had help,” the boy said quietly, glancing over his shoulder at the two older boys. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Stiles and Derek.”
“You need to give yourself some credit too,” Graham encouraged. “Because the friends you make reflect the kind of person you are. You are kind and thoughtful, and I think Stiles and Derek would agree with me when I say that you are a good person—and so, your friends are too.”
Isaac looked over his shoulder again, watching as Stiles and Derek nodded in agreement. A rosy-pink blush coloured.
“You did great,” Graham said. “Thank you, Isaac.”
“Thank you,” the boy said before hurrying back to his counter.
The room was heavy with anticipation as the judges talked among one another. The silence settled over the room as the judges broke out of their huddle and called the children forward to the front of the room.
“Today has been a big day, and that was a tough challenge, but all of you pulled through,” Gordon said. “I’m not kidding when I say that that was the hardest round we’ve ever had to judge.”
The kids’ faces lit up with smiles.
“And we think the winner of today’s challenge deserves an extra prize. What do you think it should be?”
“A kiss from Stiles,” Erica said confidently. “Unless Stiles is the winner, in which case it should be a kiss from Derek.”
The rom burst into laughter.
Gordon took a moment to compose himself. “I think that’s a good prize. Scott, Isaac and Stiles, would you please step forward?”
The three of them took a step forward, standing before the judges.
“Isaac,” Gordon started. “You are not today’s winner, but we want to give you a reward for the determination and strength you showed today. We’re giving you a full set of baking equipment. And I want you to leave knowing that those apple pies were the best I have ever eaten. If you came up to me in ten years’ time, I would not hesitate to put those pies in my restaurants.”
“Thank you, chef,” Isaac beamed. He stepped back to join the others, letting Derek wrap his arms around the boy’s shoulders and hug him tight.
“Scott, you served up an amazing dessert,” Joe said. “But it just wasn’t enough to keep you in the competition. You are a great chef, you plate up some incredible dishes, and you missed out by a hair’s breadth. Please, hold onto your apron and keep cooking, because you are great at what you do.”
“Thank you, chef,” Scott said.
Stiles reached out and patted his friend’s shoulder, offering Scott a kind smile.
“Stiles,” Gordon said, getting the boy’s attention. “You have made your mum, your dad, and you Babka proud today. You are the winner of today’s challenge.”
The room filled with applause as a sweet smile lifted Stiles’ mole-speckled cheeks. He took a step back to join the other kids, standing beside Derek.
There was a moment of hesitation before Derek leant over and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ cheek.
Stiles heart skipped a beat and he nearly choked on his breath. His eyes flew open wide, his cheeks flushing as he smiled bashfully and dropped his head. He glanced out the corner of his eyes, noticing the blush that coloured Derek’s cheeks and the way he smiled back.
