//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: Sweet Carrots 
// by Epic Yarn 
//------------------------------//

CHIFFON SWIRL


I’m ready.
I’m so very ready.
Today’s the day. The contest is today! I’m not going to throw up. I’m going to be calm. I’m going to win this thing.
Gosh, my insides just won’t quit.
Everything is ready. I made two extra carrot cakes (just in case) and an extra Candy Pear Cinnamon Swirl Cake (just in case). I. Am. Ready.
My best apron is pressed and on. I decided against my usual pigtails and piled my hair up into a swirly bun. Unfortunately, the chef’s hat wouldn’t fit over all my hair, so that’s still in my room. Instead, I rooted through my mother’s jewelry box and found a pair of pink pearl earrings I’m sure she won’t miss (too much). 
I look nice.
I look like I might actually win this thing.
No, I won’t throw up.
Deep breath, Chiffon Swirl. 
The cakes are all loaded into the cart. All I need to do is wait for Pear Butter. We’re walking together. She’d promised to help me set up.
I’m going to win. I’m going to win. I’m going to win.
I’m going to keep telling myself that until I believe it.
Everyone is going to love my cake.
I’m going to keep telling myself that too.
Actually, no—I’m going to be sick.
No. Not sick. I’m going to win.
Goodness, where is Pear Butter? She should have been here five minutes ago! This cart’s too heavy for me to pull myself. I have to get going soon or I won’t have time to set everything up. Of all days to be late, why did it have to be today? I can’t be late. Not today. If I’m late, I won’t be able to submit my cakes. If I don’t submit my cakes then all my work this last month means nothing. Pear Butter where in Equestria are you?!
“Hey, Chiffon Swirl!”
I twirl around to a very tall pony. “YOU’RE NOT PEAR BUTTER!”
“Uh…nope.”
Cinnamon sticks! I squeeze my eyes shut. “Hi, Bright Mac. Sorry. I’m just a bit nervous. Today’s the contest and I’m waiting for Pear Butter.”
“I know. I…um…ran into Pear Butter just now and she’s…uh…running a bit late.”
“Oh.” I really am going to be sick this time. Or maybe I’m going to cry. I can’t seem to decide just now. 
“You okay? You’re looking a bit…um…green.”
“I’ll be fine. How long do you think Pear Butter’ll be?” I’m not even sure I can do this without Pear Butter. She’s been with me this entire time.
Bright Mac steps around me and into the cart’s harness. “Really late, actually. She said you’d need help with the cart, so here I am!”
“You? You’re going to pull the cart for me?”
“Yeup!”
I blink only once before trotting up next to him. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Pear Butter also said to tell you that she’ll meet you there and that you’ll be great, that everyone will love your cakes, and that you’re gonna win. She also said that even though you feel sick, you’re not gonna throw up. You’ll be fine.”
Pear Butter knows me a bit too well, apparently. It actually makes me feel better. “Thanks, Bright Mac.”
Moving a bit has really started to help and I suddenly think I know what Pear Butter was thinking. The cart is really heavy with five cakes in it and Bright Mac’s a whole lot stronger than the both of us combined. He’s also from the Apple family and for some reason—nopony really remembers why—Pear Butter’s dad and Bright Mac’s mom don’t like each other. If either parent saw them together they’d both be in a world of trouble. It’s a shame really. Pear Butter and Bright Mac would probably be really good friends if their families could get along.
I look back at my cakes sitting sweetly in the cart. “Say, Bright Mac, would you like one of these cakes when I’m done? I made too many—nerves I suppose. So once I’m all set up, would you like to take one?”
“Would I?! Yeup! Do you mind if I take one of your carrot cakes? That cake of yours is delicious!”
“You’ve tried my carrot cake?” I almost stop trotting. How would Bright Mac know how my carrot cakes tasted? Once I got the cake part down, I stop testing it out at Sweet P’s and only a few ponies have tried my Coconut-Pecan Caramel Carrot Cake. I’ve been very selective and secretive. “When did you try it, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh, well…I guess I haven’t…yet. Pear Butter said it was the best cake she’s ever tasted and I can always smell it when you bake at the Pears. Yeah, th-that’s right…it smells delicious.”
Of course! Gosh, these nerves must be making me paranoid on top of everything else. “Yeah, Pear Butter’s eaten more carrot cake these last few weeks than anypony I know. I don’t know where she puts it.”
“Uh…yeup…NO IDEA.” He smiles at me and I start to feel a bit better. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be fine.
We’re finally close enough to see the contest banners at the center of town. My stomach suddenly starts to tighten again. I’m so nervous. I’m starting to wish Pear Butter was here with me to snap me out of it.
“Chiffon Swirl,” I say to the pony sitting behind the table at the entrance. I try to keep my hooves as still as possible.
“Let me see.” The pony looks down at a clipboard. “Here you are! Your numbers are 3A and 4B. 3A for the…carrot cake and 4B for…”
“Candy Pear Cinnamon Swirl Cake.”
“That’s the one. Judges are at the tent at the end, so they won’t see you put your cakes on your assigned number. Put them on the right number but don’t hang around after the bell rings. You’re welcome to stand with the other contestants and watch the tasting.”
“Thanks!”
This won’t be so bad. I can totally do this. I’m sure by the time the bell rings, my stomach will finally have calmed down.
The tables are labeled nicely enough and Bright Mac helps me get my Candy Pear Cinnamon Swirl on the table. The carrot cake is something I can handle without the extra help. 
I’m the first one here. I guess I didn’t actually need all that extra time to set up.
“Thanks again, Bright Mac.” I wave him off with my cart of extra cakes. “If you see Pear Butter, could you give her the other carrot cake?”
“Yeup. Say, what about this extra Cinnamon Swirl.”
“Oh, um…” I swallow down a blush that’s about the come up. That one goes to Sticks—since he likes it so much. “Just put it somewhere safe, will you?”
“Sure thing!”
I watch him pull the cart away. There’s nothing more for me to do but wait while the rest of the tables start filling up. I see braided breads, pies, tarts, cookies, and eclairs. I also see a lot of cakes. Still no one with a carrot cake or a Cinnamon Swirl. 
I check the time. Whoever it is better get here quick or they’re going to miss the bell. As much as I want to win, I don’t really want to win by default.
All the other tables are full when I finally hear another cart pulling up. About time. I turn to have a look and have to do a double take. 
It’s Carrot Sticks!
My jaw goes a bit slack. All I can think is “Wow, he cleans up real well.” Not that I had any doubt. It just I’m so used to seeing him with bags of carrots that I almost don’t recognize him. 
Almost. 
He actually looks a lot more handsome with his mane slicked back. He’s also wearing a really snappy bow tie and a baker’s hat to match. Somehow my insides go from wanting to come out to feeling like pear cobbler fresh out of the oven—all warm and gooey.
He glances at me and I straighten up. ”Hi, Sticks.” 
Did my voice really just squeak? Oh, ponies, my stomach is doing backflips now.
“H-hi,” he says. He kinda stares at me and I look away because I’m pretty sure if I don’t, I will melt. Did he notice me staring? Oh Celestia, how embarrassing would that be?
I decide to try and act busy by smoothing the table cloth under my cake. It doesn’t take long for my eyes to wander over to him and—“That’s…my cake!”
Actually, it’s not my cake because I didn’t make it. It’s an exact replica of my Candy Pear Cinnamon Swirl…made by Carrot Sticks!
“Y-yeah,” he says. 
I have to blink a few times. 
I must be the silliest mare in all of Equestria. Goodness, how dumb can I be? How did I not see it sooner? Of course he kept coming into Sweet P’s for my cake. We’re competing against each other! He was getting it all the time to test against his version and not for…other reasons.
Wow, I’m a fool. If Pear Butter was here, I’d tell her and then we’d laugh about it. 
Except, this doesn’t feel funny.
I really hope I’m not blushing right now.
I’d say “Good luck,” except his back it towards me and I get a very nice view of his hindquarters. My eyes roam over it like butter melting in a hot pan. By the time he finishes, my eyes have lingered a bit too long. I quickly shift away. “Your cutie mark…it’s cake.”
“Yeah, I…I suppose it is.”
“Isn’t your name Carrot Sticks? How’d you—”
“Cake. It’s actually Carrot Cake.”
“Oh! But I thought—everyone calls you…”
“Sticks is just a nickname my pa called me when I was a little foal. I was tall for my age and he said my legs look like sticks.”
Somehow, I feel things pulling together.	
Carrot Cake.
Carrot cake.
Carrot Cake’s carrot cake!
My mouth starts to fall open and I watch as he pulls out his other contest entry: a rectangular cake with powdered sugar on top.
We’re not just competitors. We’re double competitors! That carrot cake recipe is from him.
The bell rings, signaling the judges. Sticks’s eyes go wide and he hastily places his carrot cake on the table next to mine then pushes his cart out of the way.
I need to move. I know I need to move. The judges can’t see me lingering around the table, but I keep looking at Sticks—I mean Carrot Cake. “Did you know?” I say.
“What? Chiffon Swirl, we need to move.” He nods at the forming crowd and I follow him. My face is burning. My ears are laying flat. Once we’re at the edge of ponies, he turns to me and smiles. “Good luck.” He reaches his front hoof out for me to shake.
I don’t lift mine. “Did you know we were competing against each other?”
“…yeah.”
“Was that before or after telling me about the hoof-shredded carrots?”
“Um…” He won’t look me in the eye and that tells me everything I need to know.
“That’s against the rules!”
“I know, but…”
“But what?”
“You were struggling and I…just wanted to help?”
“By breaking the rules? Competitors aren’t supposed to help each other!”
“It’s not like that—It’s just…”
He had better have a good answer. I’m waiting for one, except he’s not looking at me, but rather over my head. His face has gone from a buttery-yellow to almost spoiled cream.
Behind me, I hear a rather pretentious cough. I turn to find a silver unicorn mare standing behind me. Floating in her magic is a clipboard and quill. She’s looking at both of us over her very thin glasses and her mane pulled back in such a tight bun it looks like a very hard, overbaked roll.
“Did I hear correctly?” She’s looking at me. “You received help from a competitor for your entry?”
“I…” I look at Carrot Cake, his face is still more cream than butter. My whole stomach drops and my eyes fall to the ground. “I suppose I did.”
“It’s not her fault!” Carrot Cake steps forward. “It’s mine. She didn’t know we were competing and I offered the information without her knowing.”
The unicorn looks at him over her thin glasses. “Did you now?”
“Yes.”
“You know it’s against the rules, don’t you?”
“I—well…”
“Either you did or you didn’t. Which one is it?”
“Yeah, I did, but you shouldn’t disqualify her. It was something I did without her knowing.”
“I see.” However, she doesn’t look like she sees at all. She sighs and looks over her clipboard. “And why, exactly, did you give…” She looks at me.
“Chiffon Swirl.”
“…Miss Swirl help? Did you think she could not read?”
“What? No, not at all.”
“Then was there something in your recipe that wasn’t clear? Was there some vital ingredient you forgot to include?”
“No.”
“Then you must have thought her not skillful enough, or perhaps she is incompetent?”
“Of course not!”
“Then what reason could you have to knowingly break the rules?”
Whatever color had gone from Sticks’ face is back in full force. He looks at me, then back at the judge. “Well…I just…wanted to…help?”
The judge’s face goes from stony to full fledge statue. She doesn’t look pleased in the least bit. Her clipboard hovers and slowly she flips the pages and her quill moves to make a mark.
“Wait,” Stick yells and the quill stops in midair, “it wasn’t anything complicated, nothing like that. It was more of an off-handed remark. I mean, it’s just carrot cake. Chiffon Swirl would’ve figured it out without my help. This isn’t her fault.”
The judge’s pen doesn’t move. “Carrot cake, did you say?”
“Sticks—” I say.
“Um…yeah. It’s not even a hard recipe, not like Chiffon's, which is just amazing and—”
“Sticks…” I say again. The more he talks, the more the judge deadpans her expression.
“—is really good. I mean, it took forever to get the—
“CARROT CAKE!” He finally looks at me, his eyes all wide. 
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“Just, stop, will you?”
The judge lets out a long sigh. “Young stallion, even if I wanted to overlook your…unfortunate communication with Miss Swirl, I cannot possibly taste her entry now.”
“What?! Why? Really, it was—”
I kick him at the same time the judge raises her hoof for silence. “I cannot, because now it is no longer a blind taste test. Miss Swirl, I am sorry to say but you are disqualified. You may try again next year. However, I seriously encourage you to read the rules and perhaps not talk your competitors during the competition.”
“But—” Sticks—Carrot Cake—whatever he goes by—steps forward.
“Stop it,” I snap at him. The judge has already moved to the next table, completely skipping over the carrot cakes. 
I’m disqualified. It almost doesn’t feel real. All it took was three minutes—faster than cooking an egg. 
“It’s not fair,” Sticks is still beside me. “You didn’t do anything wrong!”
I nearly stomp my hoof on the ground. “I know.”
“I’ll talk to her again. Maybe I can—”
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“I can fix this.”
“Don’t bother.” For the first time today, my stomach has finally stopped. My heart is pounding. Everything above my neck feels hot.
He takes a small step back from me. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Do me a favor. Don’t talk to me. Ever again.”
He tries to say something else to me, but I just can’t. I turn to leave before anypony can see me cry.