“Why can’t we bake these on Monday?” I whisper to Victor.

He leans in to answer. “Someone contacted Pedro last-minute to help with their event this afternoon. So we’re sending these to them.”

“Enough chitchatting and get to work.” Pedro glares at Victor and me, as if PC and Cintia aren’t right behind him chatting about the future of Star Wars. “Everyone get to work. I’ll be in charge of inventory, because the vegetable supplier is coming by later this afternoon.”

He disappears into the pantry.

“Good luck,” Victor whispers to me, before he joins Cintia on one end of the counter to start assembling fruit medleys. I launch them a wistful look. Dicing fruit sounds easier than baking pão de queijo...

PC tugs my sleeve to join him at the stove.

“We were in a rush last Monday,” he says, placing a big pot in front of me. “But today I’ll get to train you personally. Consider that a great honor.”

“I’m so sorry about the mess...again.” I’m still embarrassed about the brigadeiro disaster.

PC makes a hand gesture like it’s all in the past. “It happens.”

“Will he humiliate me every time it does?” I nod at the pantry.

PC chuckles. “Yes. But don’t take it personally. He’s just trying to make sure we’re safe in this kitchen. Principal Oliveira puts a lot of responsibility on him for being the president of the club and a professional baker, you know? That’s how we get to work unsupervised by a teacher.” He then mouths, “Thank God!”

I hadn’t thought of it this way. As much as Pedro irritates me, I have to admit it makes sense that he is extra hard on us to follow safety rules.

“Now, forget Monday. Today is a new day!” PC says, turning on his phone to play music. The first chords of “Anunciação” by Alceu Valença fill the kitchen, a song that Grandma used to sing out loud every time she heard it. The lyrics carry so much hope and promise, they help set the tone to an afternoon of baking.

PC hands me the recipe Pedro left on the counter.

“You’ll fit in sooner than you realize. Trust me,” he says. “Can you get a bottle of oil? I’m going to fetch the milk cartons in the cafeteria for later.”

“Where is the oil?”

PC gives me a playful wink. “In the pantry.”

The pantry? But that’s where Pedro is.

PC leaves before I’m able to beg him to switch tasks with me.

I take a deep breath. Just ignore Pedro. If he says anything, ignore, ignore, ignore. That’s my mantra today.