“Yes, London, I fucking folded,” Dahlia hissed, moving her hands to her hips, staring anxiously back at her oven, and London had to bite back a smile. Now that felt normal. Dahlia cursing at them felt absolutely fantastic.
“You still have time,” they said. “Do as many ramekins as you can; they don’t all have to be perfect.”
“What if none of them are perfect?” Dahlia distractedly blew a stray hair out of her face. There was a streak of flour on her cheek. “Yours are going to be perfect.” She was freaking out.
London hesitated. Then they reached over their station and put a hand on her forearm. They only kept it there for a second. Still, they felt it, the feel of her skin under their fingers, tingling all the way to their scalp.
“You’ll be okay.”
Dahlia stared at where London had placed their hand. And then she said, “Okay,” and turned back around. London swallowed.
Dahlia wasn’t okay. And both she and London knew it.
Typically, the timed cooking portion of each challenge flew by. It was the judging that followed that took entirely too long, especially during Elimination Challenges. That was where all the dramatics came in, where things were shot and reshot to look exactly right. But today, every second of watching Sai Patel’s furrowed brow, Audra Carnegie’s concerned eyes, and Tanner Tavish’s peevish face blurred by in London’s anxiety-riddled mind.
London’s body brought their soufflés up to the judges, but it was like their mind was stuck in a wind tunnel. They could barely hear what the judges said, although they thought they were smiling.
When it was Dahlia’s turn to bring up her soufflés, their smiles disappeared.
That was when London truly started to panic.
This must have been how Dahlia felt when London had nearly been kicked off with those horrible ravioli. Maybe, if Dahlia got kicked off, they could volunteer to get kicked off instead. Just a little switcheroo. Like Katniss in The Hunger Games. That was acceptable, right? That could happen? God, what had been Katniss’s sister’s name again? Why hadn’t London tried out for the Hunger Games instead of this? Chef’s Special was the worst.
London realized, as the judges huddled together for their fake deliberations, that they were losing control of their thoughts. They needed to focus. They needed to—
London, Ahmed, and Khari were called to the Golden Circle.
Top three.
“Congratulations, London.” Audra smiled at them. “Another stellar performance.”
Ahmed cuffed them on the shoulder with a grin.
London’s mouth tasted like chalk.
Tanner Tavish announced the bottom three.
Dahlia, Barbara, and Cath.
The top and bottom three switched places, and London could only watch with dread.
They were all such excellent cooks, Dahlia and Barbara and Cath. It didn’t make sense. What had happened? Maybe there was something wrong with the power in Barbara and Dahlia’s station, something haywire with their stoves—
Cath was saved. She walked back to her station, puffing out her cheeks on a deep sigh.
Barbara and Dahlia remained on the chopping block in that horrible, awful circle. They moved closer together, held hands. Barbara rested her head on Dahlia’s shoulder.
As London gripped the edge of their countertop, they tried to recall what had happened to the contestants who had been sacked already. They walked off set and then . . . London never saw them again. The producers must really ship them off back home right away. It made sense. No reason to waste money on unnecessary hotel rooms.
Suddenly Barbara and Dahlia were hugging each other. They were crying. Wait. What the hell just happened? London hadn’t heard what happened. They couldn’t hear anything. Why were they so bad at existing right now? Numbly, they saw Barbara say something in Dahlia’s ear, squeeze her arm, give a reassuring smile.
And then Dahlia walked back to her station. She didn’t look at London. Her head remained down as Barbara walked off set.
But Dahlia was still at her station.
The cameras stopped rolling, but London’s heart was still pounding. Dahlia was immediately called in for a solo interview, her shoulders tense as she walked away. Janet hustled over to London, told them to wait, that they’d be next.
They assumed Janet would ask about winning the challenge. But instead, when they were shuffled into the solo interview set—Dahlia had disappeared, and all London could think about was where she had gone—Janet asked instead what it felt like to see Barbara and Dahlia and Cath in the bottom three.