Brandon, Bea, and I stuck together throughout the bus ride. It was a tough one since the cameraman stayed glued to us like we were besties. It was a relief when he finally took a rest and left us alone after we had worn him out with our silence and disinterest. As soon as he went far enough to be out from our hearing range, I alerted Bea.

Her eyebrows shot up, having no clue about what we were going to tell her, and what hidden motive we had while choosing her.

"What is it?" she asked, noticing my hesitance in saying anything further.

Just to make sure we had no audience, I inspected the surroundings. The seats around us were empty. Except for Sarah and Leonard, who sat two seats in front. It was possible for them to eavesdrop but that was highly unlikely, since they had earphones in their ears, and even bobbing their head up and down with the beat.

Rest sat even further ahead, busy in their own world. Satisfied that we were as desolated as possible, I continued.

"Look," I started, darting my tongue out to lick my bottom lip. I winced when the flavour of strawberry lip gloss spread inside my mouth and made me certain that I had eaten half of my lip product again. Shaking that thought, I completed my sentence, "We're not just baking today.

Bea frowned, digesting the information in a rather hostile manner. It made Brandon and I grimace, worried that we might have made the wrong choice.

Then, almost magically, her expression transformed, her eyes brightening up. "Oh my God, you guys are having a runaway marriage, right? And I get to be the bridesmaid?!"

Her voice was too high for comfort and panicked, we shot her down with hushes. Still, I shot a glare at Brandon, reminded of his cruel joke again. He avoided my eyes like plague. Our short glances at each other made Bea strengthen her reason, and she started to fan herself, grinning from ear to ear.

Before I could stop her, she went on again. "How did he propose to you? I bet it was romantic!"

"Proposed?" I mumbled, my voice too low for anyone besides me to hear. "He hasn't even asked me out yet."

"It'll be amazing! And in a foreign country too." She clasped her hands, continuing on, unaware. I watched as she put on the Disney-princess expression, with twinkling eyes (and teeth brighter than my future), releasing a dreamy sigh. I pulled back, letting her do her thing. Her expression dulled for a moment. "Are you going to wear that? Or do you have a dress planned?"

Bea wasn't even looking at us while she blabbered on. Brandon nudged me, and I shrugged. With a simultaneous sigh, we laid back on our seats, and let her empty her energy with her talking.

Two minutes later, her rambling stopped. "So, what is the plan?"

I waited to see if she was indeed listening. Seemed like she was. With a heavy sigh, I said in a deliberate slow tone, "Bea, we aren't having a runaway marriage."

She blinked. "Huh?"

"Yeah... Brandon didn't propose to me—"

She cut me off, snapping her head to Brandon. "Why didn't you?"

Brandon looked like a bear caught in the headlights. He turned to me, his eyes pleading help. I shook my head while clicking my tongue. This wasn't getting any better. "Bea, neither of us wants to get married."

"Oh." She pursed her lips and then broke out into an awkward laugh. "I was joking!"

"Right," I said, "Let's talk about the main thing now?"

Bea nodded.

"This is about Bella." Looking around once more, just to make sure no one was eavesdropping, I made eye contact with Bea. "We're helping Bella and Giulia escape the country."

"Singapore?" Bea asked.

"Yes, escape Singapore, her dad, the media and everything else. They'll catch a plane to the Philippines."

"You're doing this alone?"

I shook my head, about to explain. Someone got up from their seat ahead, making me pause. I waited to see if he was headed towards us. He went the other direction, so I continued. "There is this woman –you haven't met her—but she's helping us."

Bea went on with her inquisitive questions. For a fact, I didn't mind it, at least she was being thorough. "How will you do it? I didn't see Bella or Giulia today."

"Bella will join the audience in the final round."

"Giulia?"

"That's where the plan comes in." Brandon's hand on my shoulder stopped me from spilling out the plan right away.

He bent forward, giving Bea a meaningful stare. "You can't tell anyone."

She gulped, looking at me for confirmation.

"You really can't, Bea. Can we trust you?"

"Yes, Ty. I want to help Bella." Bea put her hand to her heart, getting overly dramatic. "Trust me."

Satisfied, I said, "So, here's the plan."

Bea listened with full concentration. By the time the bus reached the venue, I was suspicious that she had the whole plan rote-learned down to an alphabet. Her role was significant. It hadn't been so when we originally formulated the plan. But I could see now how the help of one more person improved the smoothness of the journey to our goal.

While everyone took their time getting down from the bus, and the crew took their time getting all the props down and ready to shoot, Brandon, Bea and I explored the area.

A series of chapels, breathtaking with their flora décor and detailed decorations met our prying eyes. Taking in the beauty of the wedding chapels was not the main priority, and like the Charlie's Angels (with the exception of a man with us) we advanced towards our battlefield for the way. Though when we reached there, it looked as unlike as a battlefield as possible.

Our production team outdid themselves.

They had taken the wedding theme too critically. For I felt I had entered into a garland of whites and blues, the smell of roses so pungent that it made drunk in its sweetness.

In the center of the large clearing stood the kitchen. Almost as if they had transported the whole space like that. I was in awe. Like a middle-aged woman who craved new furniture and pretty china dishes, I drooled at the set of modern yet the handsome kitchen fully furnished with top-notch machines and gadgets for the best wedding cake. Wooden beams provided a shed over the long aisle of islands, making my hand itch to just trace my fingers over the cool marble.

Before I turned into a kitchen-craving junking, I snapped my drooling mouth shut.

"We're in trouble."

Now that's the line that tore my gaze away from my kitchen perversion and to Brandon who looked ill at ease. In a confused tone, I asked, "What happened?"

"Can't you see it?" Bea said, "We'll be cooking with an audience."

I saw it. It would have been pretty difficult to miss it, yet I had been preoccupied. Right in front of the kitchen 'island' were rows of chairs and sofas for pretty little (and fat) asses to warm them up.

Brandon massaged his forehead. "How will we draw out Bella now? We were going to get her to backstage."

"There's no backstage," Bea said, looking around, "It's empty field—back and front."

"Do you think Kiki would have missed this detail?" I circled the two of them, crossing my arms and giving them a slight smirk. Stopping in front of them, I pointed to the building in the left corner. They squinted their eyes in the bright sun and stared at the plain grey building. "That's the exit."

"Exit? To where?" Brandon asked.

"Well, not really exit. But Kiki's bodyguards will be there." I used my chin to point at the small door. "We just need Bella to be alone when she goes there."

"Then?"

"Poof!" I opened my palms and made a bursting gesture. "Bella will be gone."

Bea grinned. "Right from under her father's nose."

We all basked in the glory of this all-kill perfect plan. It sounded too sweet to be true. Get Bella alone. Entrust her to the bodyguards, and wave her goodbye as she is taken to the airport to reunite with Giulia and have their happily ever after. Of course, it was too easy. Just get her from point A to point B. Alone. That's where the problem came in, and Brandon voiced the same.

Brandon tapped my shoulder, killing the happy vibe. "But how will we get her to come alone?"

I smiled. In a way that told that I actually didn't want to smile, but was forced to by the circumstances. With clenched teeth, I muttered out the words, "I have no idea."

The shooting began. Our earlier brief encounter with elatedness vanished in the air, leaving behind a shell of depressed and irritated individuals. Not only we had hours of baking and decorating ahead, but we had to run our brains faster to get Bella alone somehow before the time ran out.

But still we had to put on a show, and somehow stay strong in the competition. We stood on the slightly up hoist platform with the other finalists. All of us donning our best clothes today. Looking prim, proper and very much the finalists today.

The judges, Cheng and Tony, ascended the platform, dressed in formals. Florence stood in between them, basking in the glory as little by little the seats in the audience filled up. I kept looking out for Bella, but couldn't even catch a glimpse of her. If her father didn't allow her to come here, we were doomed. The sudden, loud and sharp static noise from the speakers made me wince, and then Florence started on her introductions, again.

"Congratulations to all the finalists!" she spoke. I smiled and mouthed thank you at the cue. "Today, we have two weddings in the beautiful chapel behind us. Our finalists will be baking the wedding cake as per the couple's wishes, and the wedding guests will be the judge!"

I winced. Leaving the judging to the public? We had to appeal through looks more than flavour then.

"Three teams will qualify to the next round, and compete for the grand prize of 50,000 dollars." The audience cheered, and I felt my stomach twist with a pang, used to see my family and friends cheering for me from the sidelines. It was bittersweet. Last time, my father had been there to witness my win, but this time...

I let the thought trail away. I couldn't let it become my weakness. Instead I told myself that he would have been proud to see me reaching the finals again.

Florence's voice filtered out from my thoughts when she took my name. "Tyler, take one chit out."

I blinked, not understanding her words, but grinning and nodding as if everything made sense.

"Take it out." She wiggled her hand, holding a jar of chits in it. I frowned, having missed out on the instructions and the purpose. Following her instruction, I put my hand inside the jar, and hoped that my life wouldn't turn into the hunger games trilogy. I wasn't really suited in an arena unless it supported a full thriving kitchen. Though Brandon could become a great Peeta with his decoration skills.

Holding the chit out to her, she took it and read it aloud. "Number one!"

That didn't explain what the purpose was, nor could I ask Brandon about what was happening in the middle of her talk. So, I waited as others did the same.

When she announced the task, then I understood the meaning behind the numbers. They were sorting us out to compete against each other. Number one against number ones and so on. Florence announced the final teams. "Tyler, Henry, and Patrick will compete for the two spots in the top three. And Maya and Sarah for one spot.

"You have three hours to make the best wedding cake of your life."

She smiled, flashing her teeth, and handed the microphone to Cheng. He cleared his throat and greeted us. "Don't fear. Today, Tony and I will guide you through the process. May the best baker wins."

Florence took back the microphone from him, and pointed to the large clock, hanging from the wooden beam in front of us. She snapped her fingers together, and the second hand of the clock ticked. We stood straighter, knowing that the timer had gone off, but waiting for the confirmation. In a low voice, Florence said, "Let the games begin."