"There!" Grayson says from beside me, grinning widely. "That's it! We actually did it! It didn't collapse!"
Theo snaps a photo of our completed creation with my phone, then gives us an approving nod.
"Structurally sound. Aesthetically pleasing. Excellent teamwork. Good work, pack."
We all cheer together, practically bouncing with excitement like children on Christmas morning.
"Gingerbread!" we shout in unison, which has somehow become our ridiculous team chant for absolutely no logical reason other than it makes us laugh every single time.
Our gingerbread house looks absolutely incredible if I do say so myself. It's a two-story Victorian-style structure with intricate royal icing details piped along every edge, candy cane columns supporting the front porch, gumdrop pathway stones leading to the entrance, and a dusting of powdered sugar snow delicately covering the roof like fresh snowfall. We've been working on itfor almost two full hours, and every single minute shows in the careful craftsmanship and attention to detail.
The windows are made from crushed hard candies that look like stained glass when the light hits them. The door has tiny icing hinges. There's a miniature wreath made from green icing and red hot candies hanging on the front. The chimney is constructed from chocolate squares with little icing bricks.
I'm so proud of it. Proud of us. Proud that we worked together and created something beautiful. It's been so long since I felt proud of something I made. Kael always criticized everything I did. Nothing was ever good enough. But this? This is good. I know it is.
The judges start making their rounds through the competition area, three older Omegas in matching red aprons embroidered with 'Oakridge Holiday Committee' carrying clipboards and looking very official and intimidating. I recognize the head judge—Patty Mabel, who helps run the legendary Oakridge Bakery on Main Street and is apparently a living legend in the local baking community according to everything I've heard.
She approaches our table with careful, deliberate steps, her experienced eyes taking in every single detail of our gingerbread house from multiple angles. She walks around it slowly, inspecting from all sides. Checks the structural integrity by gently pressing on the walls to test their strength. Examines the icing work up close with a magnifying glass. Studies the decoration placement and symmetry with a critical eye.
Please like it. Please think it's good. Please don't find anything wrong with it. We worked so hard. And I really want to win something. Just once. Just to prove I can do something right. Just to prove I have value.
Then she does something I didn't expect—she breaks off a small piece of the wall and actually tastes it. Tests the quality of the gingerbread itself, not just the appearance.
Her eyes widen dramatically.
She makes a small sound of genuine surprise and delight that makes my heart leap with hope.
"This—" She pauses, tasting again more carefully, more deliberately, really paying attention to the flavors. "How is the molasses and ginger blend so perfectly balanced? The spices are exactly right. Not too overpowering but still distinct and flavorful. The texture is ideal—crisp but not hard, sturdy but not dry. And there's something else I'm tasting... is that a hint of cardamom? And maybe a touch of black pepper?"
I blush, nodding eagerly.
"Yes! Just a tiny bit of each to enhance the other flavors without being obvious. The cardamom adds warmth and the black pepper gives it depth."
Patricia turns to the other two judges with visible excitement and urgency.
"You both need to try this immediately. This is exceptional quality. Professional-level work."
The other two judges each take small samples from different parts of the house to test consistency, and their reactions mirror Patricia's exactly. Eyes lighting up with surprise. Small sounds of appreciation and approval. Surprised pleased smiles spreading across their faces.
"Absolutely remarkable," the second judge says, making detailed notes on her clipboard. "Professional-level baking. This isn't amateur hour."
"The flavor profile is sophisticated," the third judge adds. "Complex but balanced. This takes real skill and understanding of baking chemistry."
"Does your pack have extensive baking experience?" Patricia asks, looking between all four of us with genuine interest. "This level of quality doesn't come from following a box recipe."
Nash speaks up smoothly, his voice warm with pride.
"Reverie bakes here and there. She's brilliant at it. Natural talent."
My heart does a little flip at the way he says it. Like he's genuinely proud of me. Like my baking matters. Like I matter.
Patricia's eyes light up even more.
"Would you be willing to make a batch of these gingerbread cookies for our staff holiday party? It's next week on Christmas Eve. We'd pay triple the standard rate since we know you must be incredibly busy this time of year."
I blink in surprise, my mind trying to process the request.
"You—you want to hire me to bake for you?"
