I am Èvaa. At fifteen, while most girls my age are dreaming of high school crushes and trendy clothes, my world revolves around the sizzle of a pan and the chaotic laughter of five younger brothers: David, Yuko, Gigi, Fugo, and Sam.
Being the eldest among six children, my shoulders have always carried more than just a school bag. Life wasn't always this hectic. At first, it was only my father who worked to provide for us, but as the expenses grew, my mother had to step out to help him. Now, they return late at night, exhausted, all to ensure we have a future.
6:00 AM. The clock was ticking like a time bomb. School starts at 7:00 AM.
"2x Speed Mode: Activated!"
I whispered.
I moved through the house like a whirlwind, dragging them out of bed and checking on their routines. Just when I thought I was winning, I walked into their room to find a catastrophe. David, despite being the eldest brother, had managed to put his school pants on backward! It was a total mess.
Thankfully, Fugo—the sensible, little gentleman of the house—was already perfectly dressed. I spent the next few minutes fixing buttons, straightening collars, and making sure my little army was ready for battle.
I marched them to the dining table. Their eyes lit up the moment they saw the breakfast. I had served them Garlic Bread—a luxury item they had only ever seen in expensive store windows, usually priced way out of our budget.
But today, they were eating a version I had crafted right in our tiny, cramped kitchen. It tasted better than any store-bought snack, and their happy faces were my greatest reward.
"Thank you, Èvaa," Fugo whispered with a soft, grateful smile.
"You're welcome, little one," I replied, tucking their lunch boxes into their bags.
Just as the last bite was taken, the honk of the school van echoed outside. "We'll be back soon! Wait for us, Future Kitchen Queen!" they shouted in unison as they raced toward the door.
I stood in the doorway, a small, proud smile gracing my lips. That nickname… it was my motivation.
But the house didn't stay quiet for long. I still had my own school at 10:00 AM, and the chores were far from over. My school is a bit far from home, so my shift starts at
10:00 AM.
I dove back into the kitchen, scrubbing every surface until it gleamed, then moved to the living room for a quick dusting, and finally, finished the mountain of laundry. By the time I showered and packed my own lunch, I was exhausted.
I'm not a topper, and I'll be the first to admit that my grades aren't exactly "royal." Between managing the household and dreaming up new recipes, there's rarely any room left in my brain for algebra or history. I cycle to school—not just because I love the breeze, but because every penny I save on transport is one step closer to my dream.
As I pedaled my bicycle to school, I felt a sense of calm. But the moment I stepped into my 9th-grade classroom, that calm vanished.
Math Exam today.
My heart skipped a beat. Panic flared in my chest as I scrambled to pull out my notes, flipping through the pages, trying to drill the formulas into my tired brain. Numbers danced on the paper, confusing and cold.
Was this enough? Could a girl whose heart lived in the kitchen survive the logic of a math paper? I took a deep breath, clutching my pen.
The journey of the Kitchen Queen had only just begun, and this was only the first test.