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

more terrifying than the former.

I feel prepared. I’ve spent the past week

ready to go. All that’s left now

over with, and then

The cook-off.

here. In

into another television studio where I’ll

just as prepared for that as I am for this

really hope

at the same time, aside from

forming in my stomach—this time,

only returning in a few weeks

and then leaving again.

his presence for granted. I feel a little

he’s been

duties for me. And I have so much to show

I hope it’s been more than that for him,

knowing.

reality. Crisp lighting,

air as I walk down the hall, my heels clicking

marble floor—everything about

an assistant and directed to a waiting area

complete with hair

around and spot the three

about him, an older-looking man

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