Capítulo 90: A New Venture

"Good news, Christine!!! Clark and I have opened a cookie business today."

The delicious smell of fresh-baked cookies pleasantly greeted me as I entered the unit. On the table were chocolate chip, honey oatmeal and almond-raisin cookies, and even some brownies.

I was about to pick up one of the cookies when Charissa strongly slapped my hand.

"Those are for the customers," she harshly reminded me. "If you desperately want to get one, just buy from me."

"But I don't have cash," I replied back.

"Then you'll not get one," Charissa staunchly concluded. "Sorry Christine but no biscuits for you tonight."

Disappointed at not sampling one of the cookies, I walked up to the bedroom and laid down in tears. But just as hope was given up, Charissa unexpectedly showed up holding a chocolate chip cookie.

"I'm just kidding Christine," she said upon approaching my bed. "Don't cry. Here, take the cookie from my hand."

Chomping on the cookie, my mouth started salivating from the bittersweet yet chewy texture of it. That chocolatey goodness must have put a smile on me.

"Mother, this is the best cookie you ever baked," I happily exclaimed. "Those customers will definitely want a piece of it for sure."

Just then, Clark showed up and promptly gave a thumbs-up. Their new venture was off to an auspicious start.

The next morning, I was in school when Michelle revealed a cookie jar from her bag.

"That must be my mother's homemade cookies," I shockingly commented. "How did you get them?"

"Karina graciously gave the cookies to me," Michelle explained. "She wound up ordering them online from Charissa."

"Then what did your mother say about the cookies?" I eagerly questioned.

"Well, Karina remarked that the cookies were crisp outside but chewy inside," Michelle joyfully responded. "And the chocolate chips tasted so sweet."

Not long after, Michelle shared the rest of the cookies to her teammates. All of them were equally impressed by their succulent smell and sweet taste.

But promoting Charissa's cookie business was the least of my worries. As my first class drew closer, I called out Kyla who promptly approached me.

"Have you submitted the essay?" I politely asked her.

"Definitely," Kyla nodded approvingly. "It was already inside the professor's cabinet. Why did you ask?"

"My essay hasn't been printed yet," I confessed.

"Then go to the printing shop right now," Kyla earnestly advised me. "Just worry about me later, okay?"

Minutes later, my essay was finally printed but not after enduring an extremely long line of students. By the time I arrived, however, it was already 9:45 in the morning and the professor scolded me.

"You're late Miss Christine," he sternly said. "Every one of your classmates have already submitted their essays."

"Sorry if I submitted it late professor," I humbly replied.

"For now you're spared of any punishment," the professor informed me. "But the next time you showed up and submitted your work late, I won't hesitate to give an F grade. Understand?"

"Yes sir," I nodded.

Later during photography class, it was Michelle's turn to feel the wrath of the professor. As she urged the students to submit the printed images, Michelle opened her bag and realized something was missing.

"Christine, my photos were not inside the bag," she frantically uttered. "I don't know where they are."

As I placed my pictures on the desk, Michelle looked desperately around the classroom in hopes of finding her missing project. But despite my friend's best efforts, no evidence was found inside.

"Where is your project, Michelle?" the professor probed her.

"I could not find them madam," she humbly admitted. "It's missing."

"My deadline is final Michelle and you know it," the professor harshly reminded her. "Let me give you until 8:00 p.m. tonight to submit the images, or else your grade will be deducted."

When class ended, I walked towards a despondent and dejected Michelle.

"I don't know what to do Christine," Michelle tearfully told me. "My project was supposed to be inside. Now it's gone, and my hard work went down the drain. I feel disappointed at myself."

Michelle continued to cry as she bitterly contemplated on the loss of her midterm project. I tried my best to console her, but Michelle was clearly not her innocent and jolly self.

But just as hope was given up, her mobile phone suddenly vibrated.

"Hello?" Michelle softly uttered.

When the conversation ended, it was revealed that her teammate picked up a lost photo album on the elevator of the school gym. Upon hearing the news, Michelle swiftly rushed downstairs to meet with her teammate.

"Here Michelle," she humbly said while presenting the missing album. "You better take care of your stuff or else harmful things will happen."

The two players embraced while I looked on in awe. Shortly after, Michelle went to the faculty room and quietly placed the printed photos on the professor's desk.

Later during film production class, Michelle, Ella and I submitted our essay papers on time. Shortly after it had ended, she gave Ella the last cookie and took a bite out of it.

"It's delicious," she commented. "I wonder who made those cookies."

"Christine's mother baked them," Michelle happily replied. "She just launched her business yesterday, and they were absolutely delicious."

"No doubt about it," Ella nodded in approval. "Christine and her family are extremely sweet, just like the cookies."

Tuesday morning, word quickly spread amongst my friends about Charissa's new venture. With each order came an increased demand for her indulgent treats.

As I woke up, both Charissa and Clark were carefully putting a few finishing touches on some orders. At that moment they read out a list of people who requested for the jars.

One of those names turned out to be Francesca.

"Mother, can I be the one delivering the jar to Francesca?" I respectfully asked Charissa.

"No problem," she nodded approvingly. "Take this jar with you to school and give it to her."

Later that morning, I sat down an empty bench and waited eagerly for Francesca to arrive. But as she showed up minutes later, tears began rolling off her sorrowful eyes.

"Christine, we need to talk," Francesca tearfully informed me.