Abby

It’s been raining cats and dogs all morning, but I’m too excited to care. All I can

think about is the anticipation buzzing in my chest as I make my way up the

walkway to the upscale studio where the interviews for the cook-off are being

held.

“Hello,” I say from under my umbrella to a security guard leaning against a post,

looking bored. “Is this the right entrance for the interviews?”

“Yup,” he says, nodding, and gestures to a set of double doors behind him.

“Head in there, take a left, and follow the hallway to the end.”

“Thank you.”

Enter title…

As I step through the doors, my heart rises into my throat. It’s all I can do to

swallow it and force my feet to carry me forward.

I’ve never been on television before. This is going to be both exciting and

probably more terrifying than the

prepared. I’ve spent the past week practicing for

to go. All that’s left now is

over with, and then tomorrow

The cook-off.

it’s already almost here. In less than twenty-four hours,

studio where I’ll be competing in front of

Am I just as prepared for that as I am

really hope

same time, aside from the interview and the

in my stomach—this time,

after tomorrow, only returning in a few weeks for the

and then leaving again.

took his presence for granted. I feel a little

of that. All this time, he’s been

much to show for it. But what does

that for him, but

knowing.

back to reality. Crisp lighting, a monochrome

hairspray fill the air as I walk down the hall, my heels

marble floor—everything about it

directed to a waiting area

a beauty salon, complete with hair

spot the three other

older-looking man who doesn’t

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