“Yes, Miss Satomi?”

“How did the applause make you feel?”

“I know I screwed up in the beginning, and next time, I need to be ready for the stage lights, and—”

“No, no! Forget that.”

Suddenly Hell was not the issue. Shizuka was concerned about Katrina. Since her performance, had she actually celebrated openly at all? What was she repressing? Was she still that afraid?

“The applause. How did it feel?”

“I can’t. I—”

“Hey, Katrina. Who bought you the Cinnabon?”

Katrina lowered her eyes.

“It was the best feeling ever,” she said softly. “Especially at the end. I felt like no one was going to hurt me. I felt safe, Miss Satomi. And powerful. So powerful that I could keep you, and everyone who was listening, safe as well.”

Shizuka Satomi, the girl from Monterey Park, was unable to utter another word.

Throughout the Classically Camellia Showcase, Lan Tran closely monitored the planet’s social media channels for all mentions of Starrgate Donut. This would be valuable marketing research. She’d classify and archive the mentions of different donuts—glazes, twists, apple fritters, sprinkles, crullers …

At first, there were many mentions of the free donuts, even some photos! But soon, the mentions of donuts dwindled. People mentioned the great music. People gushed about Katrina. Someone posted a photo. She was so beautiful! And there was a photo of Astrid accompanying her. There was another stunning girl named Tamiko Grohl. There were posts about how nice the Pavilion was, photos of friendly dogs. Someone mentioned the boba they had bought at Tea Station. And another posted a video of a man selling elotes from a cart.

But the donut posts dwindled to almost nothing. Lan was stunned. They were handing out donuts in the park! Where were all the mentions?

Lan texted Markus, but Markus did not answer. She texted again.

Finally, she texted Aunty Floresta.

“Perhaps it’s best to discuss this when we return,” was her prompt reply.

That had been an hour ago. Lan kept looking, hoping. But nothing. There were still many posts about the festival and how wonderful the violinists, especially, were. More selfies. And then there were tweets about a fire in Temple City, that the house of one of the festival staff—the emcee—had burned to the ground. But nothing about donuts.

Finally, she noticed one post, a TikTok from a young Toishan family. They had strolled by the park after the festival, and said they were so lucky because the cleanup crew gave them an entire box of donuts, as no one else wanted to take them.

Markus and Aunty Floresta returned to Starrgate and reported to the control center. One look from Aunty Floresta told Lan everything.

Yes, Temple City had paid in advance; yes, they made money. But there was no denying that the night had been a failure.

“Markus. Run a diagnostic on the replicators for any clues as to what went wrong.”

“This is so stupid.”