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—”

of,” he interrupts firmly. “The judges have

stop. You

can’t cook without my sous chef,” I

fair. Daniel still has

or not,” Mr. Thompson retorts with a regretful shake of his head,

not up to me. You do want to win, don’t

seems so far from me now. It

without Karl. And I can’t do this all on my

this is all okay,” I say. “He would never hurt anyone like

This—this is a farce!”

to pretend anything,” Mr. Thompson replies.

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

glance back at the station, at the unfinished dish

the eyes on the stage—all of it is the real reason

Thompson is right; I can’t just abandon it

Mr. Thompson murmurs, his

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

without him.”

my eyes for a fleeting second, letting his words anchor

Thompson is right,

I say, though each word feels hollow, even to

finish the dish, but I won’t let this lie. Karl is many

one of them.”

worry,” Mr. Thompson says, squeezing my shoulder.

Personally.”

and run back on stage, where the camera and the

waiting for me all this time. The audience is

staring at me from their booth. Daniel

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

several minutes over

as I dash past the camera and back

a ticking time bomb, a countdown to an

And I feel utterly helpless in this

I catch

cooking with one hand, although I know he’s

shoots me that look with that knowing glint in