Nisha took her other arm and the three of them marched across the parking lot. They had walked down this path thousands of times, but Ashna had never before been this conscious of each step.

A Food Network van was parked by the ramp. The crew was already in her kitchen, and the door was propped open.

The bats in her belly grew rabid. Her heart had never beat quite this hard.

“It’s going to be a sweet southern grandma,” she muttered. “God, please.”

“What?” both sisters said together without pausing in their march.

“I’ve had my fingers crossed for a sweet southern grandma–type celebrity. It’s my best shot.” She had been chanting it to the universe. Please, please, all I need is a sweet southern grandma. Not to deal in stereotypes, but maybe a southern grandma would know what she was doing enough that Ashna might not need to cook in front of the cameras at all. “I told China that I wanted a sweet southern grandma as my celebrity. So, ‘S C O R E’ has to mean she found me one, right?”

Nisha and Trisha shook their heads at her and disappeared into the kitchen. Ashna followed them, mentally chanting the shlokas Aji had taught her for when she needed to calm down.

There was equipment everywhere, lights and cameras on giant stands. Trisha and Nisha were already introducing themselves to the crew.

Only today’s meeting with her star would be shot in the Curried Dreams kitchen. The actual show was going to be filmed on a set in San Francisco over five weeks. Two episodes a week—a cooking episode shot over two days and an elimination episode, and then a grand finale with the two teams that made it that far. A young man in a hat that said FOOD NETWORK and a very Secret Service–looking earpiece jogged up to Ashna. “I’m Jonah,” he said with an excited smile. “They have your star circling the block. We want to get some anticipation footage of you waiting to see who it is.”

He snapped his fingers and everything lit up like a movie set. Suddenly Ashna’s kitchen felt nothing like her kitchen. She took it in, mouth slightly agape, and tried to contain her nervousness.

“Perfect!” Jonah grinned at her as though she’d somehow given him the exact expression he’d been hoping for. “Can you go in and pretend it’s just another day? How about chopping something. Maybe vegetables?”

“You want her to chop vegetables and pretend it’s just another day?” Trisha said with all the drollness of someone who was not being asked to act normal. Whatever the hell that even meant. “I think she has the acting chops for that.”

“Great!” this Jonah person said with disturbing alacrity, and zero awareness of Trisha’s sarcasm. “That’s what I thought. Let’s find you some vegetables!” He headed off to the pantry.