“Yeah. Long week.”
He nods like he understands more than I said, though it’s doubtful since I’m sure he spent all week lounging or relaxing in whatever way someone as rigid as he is does.
“Get some sleep,” he says, keeping his voice low.
I don’t even make it through a full reply. I just hum in agreement and shuffle toward the stairs.
Lila and Chloe are both asleep when I slip into the room, collapsing into bed still wearing my hoodie. I don’t so much fall asleep as I succumb to unconsciousness.
The next day passes in flashes, which is problematic since I’m quite literally baking for my life.
The signature goes fine, I guess.
About as good as it could have gone, considering I didn’t get to practice as much as I wanted to throughout the week. My bake wasn’t great, but it wasn’t a disaster either, so I’ll take it. The judges said my flavors are there, but my execution is still struggling.
The technical, however, is a completely different story.
I place near the bottom—second from last—and, at this point, it just feels like insult to injury. One week back home, trying to manage this new schedule, and everything is already falling apart.
I knew this was going to be rough. I just didn’t expect it to be this rough this fast. Internally, the walls are closing in because I know I’m blowing my only chance at making my dream come true, but I’m apparently helpless to do anything about it.
Somewhere far away, Magnolia says something encouraging. Garrett, on the other hand, does not. As we are leaving the tent, Lila gives me a once-over, followed by an eyeroll.
I’ve never had an enemy before; it looks like this show is bringing all the new experiences my way, whether I want it to or not.
Normally, I’d care about someone not liking me.
I’d at least feelsome type of wayabout it.
But right now, all I can think about is coffee and a nap.
?????????
Waking up the next day feels like coming out of a fog. I stretch my arms above my head and blink against the light filtering through the windows. My body is still heavy with sleep but my mind is a little clearer than when I went to bed last night.
Yesterday’s disappointment threatens to resurface, but if I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that if I let negative thoughts linger too long, they’ll turn into something much harder to shake. So I roll out of bed, take a deep breath, and decide whatever challenge the judges have planned, I’ll meet it head-on.
Tired or not.
Just as we’re walking down the lawn to the tent, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I slip it out and glance down to see a text from Kara.
KARE-BEAR:
break a leg! or whatever
the baking equivalent to
that phrase is ?? ??
What would that be—break an egg?
The pun makes me laugh. I chew my lower lip as I tap out a quick reply, then look up and slow to a stop just inside the entrance.
Something is immediately off.
There are only four stations set up inside the tent. Not eight like you’d expect, considering we have eight contestants at this point in the competition. Not even six with some kind of trick lighting or TV magic.
Four.
