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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
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtbetter.”
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
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmgoing 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
Drąмanоvels.com
“Chefs,” the announcer continues, “you have one hour! And the timer begins…”
“…Now!”
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