Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Abby

The air in the studio feels dense with anticipation as Karl and I walk back to our

station together. The crowd murmurs as they become aware of the implications:

that only Daniel and I are returning, and Bryan, the third contestant, is nowhere

to be found despite the fact that the winners of the second round were never

officially announced.

“You okay?” Karl murmurs as we take our spots, standing next to each other

with our shoulders touching.

I nod and shrug at the same time, a sense of guilt and trepidation washing over

me. “Yes. Sort of. Maybe. I don’t know,” I murmur, clearing my throat subtly.

Enter title…

Karl shoots me a confused look from beneath his blue surgical mask. “What

does that mean?” he asks, worry lacing his voice.

I can’t contain my sigh. “It means that, if it weren’t for Bryan’s mother dying, I

wouldn’t be standing here right now,” I say quietly. “And I’m not sure how to feel

about it, if I’m being honest.”

Karl is silent for a moment before he speaks. “Listen, Abby, I know it’s a shock.

But—”

Suddenly, before he can finish, the director holds up his fingers and begins

counting down from three. The stage falls silent, and the cameras begin rolling.

way across the stage,

before. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he starts, “before

round, we have an announcement

tightly around the edge of my station. I can feel

and unyielding, even as we

at him only serves to prove me

sort of glee.

will not be joining us for the final round,” the announcer

through the live audience. “Due

chosen to withdraw.”

murmur turns into a low hum, the audience looking around at

continues. “Bryan’s mother has

moment of silence.”

the silence stretches over the crowd, I feel my

strange, being a finalist only due to a death. A wave of guilt

don’t belong here after my performance in

the announcer clears his throat and continues. “Now… the final

of skill,” he announces.

tension and excitement winding through the air again.

preparing a dish that is

with black truffle butter

My heart lurches.

That dish. My dish.

moved with the memory of it, the

hunted down those elusive truffles as if they were treasure. It

coincidence. It feels like

murmur, my breath hitching in my

a little closer. “I thought

hiss, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter even harder

me, I thought so,

voice booming over the microphone brings us

the moment at

to get this far,” he booms,

the crowd. “And now, they will face