Chapter 31- Of Curry and Courage

                                    

                                          
(Name)'s POV
...Aw, nuts.
That was all I could think as I stared down at my work station.
This scampi happening.
It was totally happening.
...Just my luck.
It took all of my willpower not to walk out of that stadium from exasperation at my current situation. While my stomach still churned irritably at the misfortunate turn of events, any fear or nerves I held for the woman or my soon-to-be-judged dish was overpowered by pure annoyance.
In other words, I was 120% done with it all. I just wanted to cook my dish and have it fairly judged—was that really so much to ask?
I had officially passed the point of anxiety and entered the anger zone.
What! The! Actual! Pho! I clenched my fists repeatedly and lifted my head to stare at the ceiling vexedly.
My first day back to school and I already felt the need for a vacation.
I was so caught up in my own negative emotions that I failed to look back and check how Kiyoko was doing—surely she recognized her own aunt—but a furious energy I felt burning into the back of my head told me she wasn't any happier to see the woman than I was.
Slowly, I looked back up to the judge's table where the first student was being judged. From what I could tell, the judge's seemed pretty satisfied with the dish served to them as they smiled and praised the boy's technique and choices.
"Then, if you please, the scores!" Urarace-car gestured to the board above the judge's table that displayed a total of...
33 points!?
I was bewildered by the low score, and the crowd mirrored my surprise with confused whispers. Each judge's panel displayed a single-digit number.
"Each judge has twenty points and not ten, right?"
"But they were praising him so much."
But the most astonished of them all was the brunette chef himself who lashed in outrage at the judges. "M-my dish got 33 points?! What's going–"
"–Who do you think we are?" The older judge in the yellow suit boomed with a stern glare. "We face dishes made by countless professionals every day. We may have said you did a good job, but we meant a good job for a student. I'd say you can be proud if you manage to score 50 points."
The boy dropped his tray as the man's words sunk in, and a grim feeling filled the room as we all realized just how serious these judges were.
Granted, I didn't think too much of it at first—or at least I tried not to. Overthinking or worrying about it too much would only make me more of a mess than I currently was, my anxiety attack earlier being a clear example of how.
Maybe it was just that one guy's dish. I'm sure someone will score better soon.
But boy was I wrong.
"28 points!"
"31 points!"
"6 points!"
I winced especially hard at that last one. The secondhand embarrassment was strong in that score, and I could practically feel the humiliation radiating off the poor chef that had just gone.
"The harsh scores continue to rock the arena! Up next..." Ura-rattata made a choking sound as she and everyone else lifted a hand to cover their mouths and noses, myself included.