Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

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A little girl with a costume chef’s hat on. It’s a little too big for her head, causing

it to fall into her eyes. She pushes it up out of her face, shooting me a toothless

grin as she holds up a handmade sign that reads, in haphazard crayon…

“ABBY, U R MY HERO!”

Tears come to my eyes, but I blink them away. Suddenly, I’ve found my voice

again. I clear my throat, stand up straight, and start to speak.

“I want to say how grateful I am to stand here as a woman in a profession that

has long been dominated by men. And not just as a woman, but as someone

who believes in the power of diversity, of giving chances to those who are often

overlooked.”

Enter title…

I pause, choosing my words carefully. “But it’s not just about me,” I continue, “it’s

about all of us here. The incredible chefs who have come to compete, the staff

who make this show possible, and you—the audience, who make us want to be

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better.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daniel roll his eyes, his scowl deepening. For

a moment, I contemplate going further, confronting his negativity right here and

now, but that won’t work here. It’s not right. It’s not me.

“Again, thank you for all of the love,” I continue, “but please, I ask you to extend

the same love to my opponents—no, not my opponents, but rather my partners,

my fellow chefs—because, at the end of the day, we’re all here for the same

reason: to celebrate the art of cooking, to challenge ourselves, and most of all,

to engage in a friendly competition.”

A tidal wave of applause and cheers takes over the studio. I lean back from the

microphone, my eyes sweeping across the faces of the audience, then to my

fellow contestants, and lastly to Karl, who gives me an approving nod.

“No matter who takes home the prize today,” I add, “what truly matters is that we

come together as a community, cheering each other on, despite our hang-ups

and reservations. That’s the real victory, and it’s one we can all share.”

My eyes meet Daniel’s once more. He’s still scowling at me, but I suddenly don’t

care anymore. Because to me, the most important thing is that little girl in the

audience—her hat too big for her head, her grin missing teeth, and her heart full

of admiration. And even if I don’t win today, I will try my hardest… for her.

The announcer grins, taking the microphone back. “What a lovely speech,” he

begins, to which there’s another round of cheers before he continues. “Abby, the

crowd clearly loves you, but we’re all dying to know— who is your sous chef for

today?”

My eyes dart to Karl, whose eyes glint in the lights.

“He goes by the name ‘Ken,’” I say. “If you all don’t mind, he has asked to keep

his identity private for the duration of this competition.”

A hush falls over the crowd. But much to my surprise, the announcer’s grin only

stretches wider, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Ah, a mystery! Our viewers are

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going to love this. What a fun twist to the show!”

The crowd murmurs excitedly, and I glance at Karl again. He nods subtly,

approving of my choice of words. The announcer sends me back to my station,

and Karl nudges me, shooting me a thumbs-up under the table.

But I can’t help but wonder… With all of this love, all of this intrigue, what will

happen if I disappoint my ‘fans’ today?

However, I have to push these thoughts aside, reminding myself that I need to

focus. The show is about to begin, and I can’t be thinking about potential failure.

Not now.

“…A classic first course… Duck Pâté en Croûte!”

I let out a sigh of relief. I know this dish like the back of my hand; I must have

practiced it a hundred times over the past months. Content belongs to

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“Chefs,” the announcer continues, “you have one hour! And the timer begins…”

“…Now!”

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