Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

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—”

taken care of,” he interrupts firmly. “The judges have made

You must continue or

races. “But I can’t cook without

“It’s not fair. Daniel still

Mr. Thompson retorts with a regretful shake of

but it’s not up to

The concept seems so far from me now.

can’t do this all on my own.

pretend that this is all okay,” I say. “He would never

This—this is a farce!”

anything,” Mr.

you’re here for, isn’t it?

at the station, at the unfinished

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

is right; I can’t just

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

laced with concern. “You know Karl would want you to finish this,

without him.”

for a fleeting second, letting his words anchor me

Thompson is

each word feels hollow, even to me. “But

won’t let this lie. Karl is many things, but

one of them.”

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

Personally.”

on stage, where

me all this time. The

staring at me from their booth.

are right back at work. And the timer hasn’t

already wasted several minutes over

dash past the camera and

ticking time bomb, a countdown to an explosion that

utterly helpless

my way past Daniel’s station, I catch his eyes. He

work, his sous chef cooking

look with that knowing glint in