Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chatper 243

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 frantic. But before I can

make sense of it, a microphone is suddenly shoved in my face, and the camera

blocks my view of Karl’s fading form.

“Abby, what’s happening? Does your sous chef often show such aggressive

behavior?” The announcer’s voice breaks through my train of thought, loud and

Enter title…

grating over the microphone. I feel frozen to my spot, unsure of what to do.

“I… Um… Excuse me,” I manage, pushing past the announcer and hurrying

toward the edge of the stage, toward where Karl and the security guard

disappeared to. But Mr. Thompson is already in my way, grabbing my arm and

yanking me out of the view of the camera.

“Abby, you can’t follow him,” Mr. Thompson hisses, his voice low. “Get back out

there.”

“But I need to—” I begin, but the words are cut off.

“No,” Mr. Thompson cuts in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “What you

need to do is finish your dish. This will be handled, don’t worry.”

“But Karl, he—”

interrupts firmly. “The judges have made

stop. You

can’t cook without my sous chef,” I argue, my

now. “It’s not fair. Daniel still has his sous

or not,” Mr. Thompson retorts with a

but it’s not up to me.

from me

do this all on my own. I need a sous chef. “I

this is all okay,” I

This—this is a farce!”

pretend anything,” Mr. Thompson replies. “Just

here for, isn’t it? To prove yourself in

back at the station, at the unfinished

lights, the eyes on the stage—all of it is

is right; I can’t

you have to go back,” Mr. Thompson murmurs, his voice lower now,

Karl would want you to

without him.”

fleeting second, letting his words anchor me

Thompson is

each word feels hollow, even to me. “But

I won’t let this lie. Karl is

one of them.”

worry,” Mr. Thompson says, squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll look

Personally.”

on stage,

all this time.

judges are staring at me from their booth.

back at work. And the timer hasn’t

wasted several minutes over

I murmur as I dash past the camera and back to my station. The

like a ticking time bomb, a countdown to an explosion that

I feel utterly

past Daniel’s station, I

his sous chef cooking with one

that look with that

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