Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Abby

We exit hair and makeup, and I can’t help but feel like an impostor beneath this

mask of perfectly-caked makeup. Just like yesterday, it feels like an

uncomfortable facade, a porcelain mask covering the real Abby. I can’t help but

wonder to myself: why is this amount of makeup necessary for a cooking show?

Shouldn’t my abilities be judged, not my face?

I glance over at Karl as we walk out of the hair and makeup room. He’s still

wearing his blue surgical mask, but the makeup that I can see on his face is

much lighter than mine.

“Geez, Abby,” he says as he looks at me. “You like like a…”

Enter title…

“Don’t,” I hiss. I don’t want to think about it, not now. Instead, I focus my

my chef’s jacket. The fabric is stiff and a little itchy

they put it through to look ‘camera-perfect’, much unlike my

is comfortably worn down after years

offers, his own jacket

nerves fraying. But after another failed

I don’t

jacket with a precision

says, stepping back to

feel perfect; I feel like I’m about to come apart at the

minutes!” a production assistant yells from down the hall, waving

clipboard frantically.

The weight of the entire morning—the mad dash, the

last-minute change in sous chefs—crashes down on

is pounding, this

stupid uniform is too stiff

own body

my voice quivering. “I’m

station yet

to compete?”

look at me,” Karl says, taking my trembling hands into his. His grip