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

You must continue

mind races. “But I can’t cook without my

“It’s not fair. Daniel still has his

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

sorry, Abby, but it’s not up to me. You do want to win, don’t

concept seems so far from me now. It doesn’t feel right to

without Karl. And I can’t do this all on my own. I need a sous chef.

pretend that this is all okay,” I say. “He

This—this is a farce!”

anything,” Mr. Thompson replies. “Just cook.

for, isn’t it? To prove yourself

station, at the

stage—all of it is the real

right; I can’t

Mr. Thompson murmurs, his voice lower

“You know Karl would

without him.”

my eyes for a fleeting second, letting his words anchor me

Mr. Thompson is right,

say, though each word feels

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

one of them.”

says, squeezing my shoulder.

Personally.”

and run back on stage, where the camera

for me all this time. The audience is

the judges are staring at me from their booth. Daniel and his sous

work. And the

already wasted several minutes

I dash past the camera and back to my station.

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

feel utterly helpless in this

station, I catch his eyes. He and

sous chef cooking with one hand, although

with that knowing glint in his