Abby All I can do is watch, helpless, as Karl’s form recedes. He’s being guided forcibly away by the firm hand of a security guard, and he’s yelling something over the din of the crowd, the announcer, and the sounds of cooking. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but whatever it is, it’s franti
Abby I feel frozen to my spot as the judges make their way toward Daniel’s station. The grin stretched across his face almost makes me feel sick, and it’s all I can do not to run off the stage right now. “Wow,” Vanessa says as she takes the first bite of Daniel’s dish, which looks leaps and boun
Abby My body feels as though it doesn’t belong to me as I stalk to the breakroom. I feel like a puppet on strings that have been cut, like my limbs are made of lead and my body might give out from beneath me at any moment. When I’m alone in the breakroom once again, though, I can’t contain my fu
Abby “Your sous chef… I saw him trying to bribe the judges earlier.” Daniel’s words land on me like a lead weight. Karl? Bribing the judges? He wouldn’t do something like that. When would he have even had the time? Why wouldn’t he have told me? My gaze locks with Daniel’s, and disbelief tighte
Then, Karl’s brown eyes almost seem to gloss over, and he shakes his head. “No,” he says, the denial in his voice immediate and almost instinctive. “I didn’t try to bribe the judges. Daniel is lying.” But even as he speaks I can see the flicker, the slightest shift in his eyes that betrays him. My
Karl The second round had left a bitter taste in my mouth. Seeing the way that the judge, Logan, tore into Abby on live television left me feeling maybe a little too overprotective, but I couldn’t just stand idly by while Abby had her integrity ripped apart on stage. I told Abby I needed to take
Abby As Karl speaks, my fingers worry the hem of my white chef’s coat, now no longer pristine but splattered with sauce and tiny stains and the remains of haphazardly cooked meals. It feels like a perfect representation of my inner world right now: once untarnished and lily-white, but now stained
Abby The stage lights feel even more blinding now from the tears in my eyes. A makeup artist darts around, dabbing my face with powder to cover the streaks from crying. In more ways than one, I’m glad this hell is almost over; right now, I’m just looking forward to getting this damn makeup off.