Miguel stood on the front porch of his parents' house on the outskirts of La Bonita, the only town on the island. The trees and other houses in the area made it impossible to see the ocean from here, but you could still hear the sound of the waves on the shore and smell the salt in the air. In fact, there were few places on the island where the crash of the waves couldn't be heard.

That was the sound that Miguel had missed the most while in the hospital in Florida. He hadn't realized it was even missing until they returned home and he lay in bed trying to sleep. He'd heard that sound every single day of his life since the day he was born.

It was soothing to him. A reassurance that everything would be alright. The sun would continue to rise and the tides would continue to change. Right now, he needed that kind of certainty in his life.

It was early morning as he breathed in the fresh salt air. He'd already been up for several hours, struggling to dress and bathe himself. His father had offered to help him if he needed anything, but Miguel was too stubborn for that. It didn't matter that it took him exponentially longer to do everything now, at least this way he wasn't adding any extra burden on his parents.

His accident had already caused them enough trouble.

Since Miguel was unable to work, his father called in a few friends to work part time. Unfortunately, paying for help only furthered the issue by decreasing their profit margins. The hefty hospital bill had been broken down into manageable payments, but it still ate into a significant portion of their income.

María had already asked a friend if she could work part time in their shop to bring in some extra money. She'd be starting her first day of work in over twenty years in just a few hours. The very thought made Miguel's heart clench. He didn't want his parents to have to go through all of this for him.

To top everything else off, the contest was no longer a possibility for him. He wouldn't get his casts off for another eight weeks. That would leave roughly a little less than two months until the contest. That was nowhere near enough time to perfect a recipe capable of beating Dominic. Putting in a poor effort would be worse than not participating at all. He wasn't sure he would be able to show his face in La Bonita ever again if he didn't place in the top two.

“Mornin', Miguel,” a cheery voice called from the direction of the street.

Miguel looked across the overgrown vegetable garden and lush collection of native plants, towards the front gate where a young boy of about twelve years was standing. He had a bag of newspapers slung over his shoulder and was pushing a bicycle.

“Hey there, Hector,” said Miguel with a smile. “How are you today?”

“Just doing my route before school,” said Hector, digging a newspaper out of his bag and holding it out. “I heard what happened.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if almost everyone on the island knew by now,” said Miguel as he approached the front gate.

“Mom said you're not going to be in the barbecue contest this year.” Hector frowned.

“There's not much cooking in my near future.” Miguel lifted up his arms for Hector to see. He took the newspaper gingerly. At least his hands still worked.

“That's a shame. There's an announcement in the paper this morning.” Hector reached out and took the paper back from Miguel. He unfolded it and pulled out a flier. “The President is offering a reward of $100,000 to the first place winner of the contest. That's more than enough money to open that restaurant you're always talking about, isn't it?”

Miguel felt himself begin to tremble as he stared at the flier. Hector was right. It was more than enough money to open his own restaurant. In fact, he could open a restaurant and pay off the hospital bill hanging over his parents' head in one fell swoop. There was only one problem. He looked down at his arms.

“I'm really sorry about that,” said Hector, tucking the flier back inside the newspaper and folding it up again. “I hope you can get your casts off soon.” He handed the paper back to Miguel.

“Thanks, Hector. Now get going. You can't be late for school.”

“See ya around!” Hector smiled and pushed his bike up the road towards the next house.

* * *

Miguel’s parents were gone. His mother had left for work a few minutes ago after informing him that there was plenty of food in the fridge if he got hungry. His father had left long before that after several of his close friends had arrived to help him out for the day.

He knew neither of them would ever blame him for the sudden shift in their lives, but that didn’t stop Miguel from blaming himself. Sitting around and feeling sorry for himself wasn’t going to accomplish anything. He needed to be proactive about this.

He stood alone in his mother’s hyper-organized kitchen and stared down at the empty sauce pan he’d managed to set on the stove. It had taken nearly all of his concentration just to get the pan out of the cupboard and maneuver it onto the burner. Now, however, he’d encountered a new and frustrating problem.

María kept her cooking spoons in a large, decorative jar that sat to the right of the stove. With his arms firmly locked into right angles, Miguel found himself unable to reach the spoons. Similarly, he was unable to reach the bottle of apple cider vinegar kept on a high shelf in the pantry and the brown sugar in its glass jar was out of reach as well.

If he struggled this much just to reach the ingredients, then how was he ever going to be able to cook them?

After about an hour of struggle, Miguel finally admitted defeat. His arms were hurting and he was exhausted from the effort. His mind, however, continued to drift back to the flier that he’d stolen out of the newspaper this morning before handing it off to his father. If he could just participate in the contest then the president’s reward was as good as his.

He could ask for help. But his desire to keep his efforts a secret from his parents made it impossible to ask them. He knew they would tell him not to strain himself. They would tell him that it was their job to take care of him and that all he needed to do was rest and recover. They were good parents, but if he wanted to do this, then he would have to go outside of them.

“Hey buddy, how are you?” Miguel was grateful for his cellphone’s speaker phone feature. Even trying to make a phone call was nearly impossible for him.

“Wow, hey Miguel, I was going to come see you but we got held up at a thing and it was just chaotic. How are you?” Esteban wasn’t the most reliable human being in the world, but he was one of the only friends Miguel had. If he was going to make this work, then this was his best shot.

“Yeah, well I’ve got something I wanted to run by you,” said Miguel. “You should come by the house.”

“I mean, I’d love to. But the waves are pretty sweet today. Blanca and I were just about to head out for a few hours. We could come by after?” Blanca and Esteban were the quintessential surfer couple. Everything they did revolved around whether or not the ocean was going to offer them a sweet ride today or not.

“What if I told you I had a chance for us to win $100,000?”

Esteban was silent for a long moment. “What do we have to do?”

* * *

“It’s easy,” said Miguel as he stood in the kitchen about thirty minutes later. “All you have to do is follow my instructions. Once we’ve gotten the recipe tweaked just right, we’ll be able to enter it into the contest and we’re certain to win.”

Esteban looked uncertainly down at the stove. He was a tall, lanky man who looked extremely out of place in a kitchen. He smelled like ocean brine and salt air and everything about him looked like a wind-swept mess. His girlfriend, Blanca, had a similar appearance as she sat on the counter nearby and watched the proceedings with interest.

It briefly occurred to Miguel that he’d never seen either of them cook a single thing in the entire four years that he’d known them. They seemed to subsist off of junk food and instant meals. Their highly active lifestyle and super-charged metabolisms somehow kept them both trim and thin.

Still, there was a first time for everything.

“Just think about it, okay?” said Miguel trying to get Esteban into the right mindset. “$100,000 split two ways is $50,000. What would you do with that much money?”

“You mean three ways, right? Because there’s two of us and Blanca is here helping too.”

Miguel froze in place for a moment as his brain reeled to try and catch up. “But you two live together. You use all the same finances. It would be a two-way split.”

“But there are two of us. If we’re going to help you, then it needs to be fair.”

Miguel groaned internally and tried to refocus his thoughts. “Fine.” The money would still be enough to cover the cost of the hospital bill. “But that’s not important right now because we haven’t even started the first batch yet.”

“Then tell me what to do,” said Esteban, looking a little more enthusiastic about the scenario now.

Miguel carefully instructed his friend on how to proceed. They were starting with a simple barbecue sauce without much flash or frill. He thought that would be the best way to ease the two non-cooks into things before he started going crazy with odd ingredients and variations.

When the sauce was finally done, they pulled out the chicken thighs that Miguel had had them bring from the grocery store. They fired up the charcoal grill on the back porch and got to work.

“Making a good sauce is only one aspect of barbecue,” explained Miguel as the three of them stood around the grill. “The meat and how it’s cooked is just as important. Chicken is the easiest to work with, but it also contributes less to the finished product that’s why most people use beef or pork, because they have more flavor of their own. They’re also more expensive and less forgiving when it comes to mistakes in cooking.”

Esteban followed Miguel’s instructions and brushed on the barbecue sauce. Despite Miguel’s worries, it seemed like his friends might actually make a pretty good team. It might take a little getting used to, but they might actually be able to pull this off.

The finished plate of chicken wasn’t pretty by any means, but it was more than Miguel could’ve done on his own. Technique would come later, for now it was time to sample the finished product.

Sitting together at the kitchen table, the three of them dug in.

The chicken was well cooked and juicy. The barbecue sauce, while nothing mind-blowing, was delicious. The meat was well-covered and every bite contained a hint of the sauce. All in all it was a satisfying experience. They wouldn’t win any prizes with a showing like this, but it was a start. And it was a better start than Miguel had anticipated.

“That was pretty good,” announced Esteban with a grin. “Maybe we’ve got a shot at this thing after all.” He rose from the table and retrieved a napkin from the counter.

“We finished just in time too,” said Blanca, glancing down at her phone. “The surf report says the waves are optimal right now.”

Miguel’s heart sunk. “You guys are leaving?”

“I’m sorry if you wanted to hang out more, buddy, but the ocean is calling.” Esteban laughed as he wiped his mouth and hands clean. “We’ll be sure to stop in again soon.”

“I...I don’t think you understand,” said Miguel, disappointment settled over him. “We’re not done.”

“What are you talking about?” Esteban looked around in confusion. “We even did the dishes, of course we’re done.”

“That was just one batch of extremely simple barbecue. That’s not going to win the contest. We’ve got four months before the New Year. That’s four months to cook as much as possible. There are dozens of recipes to try and variations to test. We’ve got to experiment and try over and over again. Sometimes multiple batches in a single day. We’re not going to win $100,000 by just cooking one batch of mediocre barbecue chicken and calling it a day.” Miguel could feel his dream slipping away again as Esteban and Blanca’s expressions both glazed over.

The two surfers exchanged a long look before Esteban turned back to Miguel.

“Look, buddy, I’m sorry,” Esteban said as he began gathering up his things. “Blanca and I belong on the water. If winning this contest means sacrificing that, then we’re going to have to bow out.”

“It’s just for a few months.” Miguel could already tell it was pointless to argue.

“I’m sorry,” repeated Esteban, avoiding his gaze as he and Blanca headed for the front door. “I hope you find someone else to help you with this. I really do.”

Miguel was left sitting alone in the kitchen. Despite his desire to stay strong he could feel tears welling in his eyes. “There is no one else.”