Walter brought two mugs down from a shelf and poured the steaming liquid into them. He spilled a bit on the counter and wiped it up with the dishrag draped over his shoulder.

“Careful.” He handed me a mug.

I blew into it. The color reminded me of Keya and her butter tea and how I’d never get to taste it.

When it had cooled a bit, we both drank.

“Stop!” Walter slapped his hand over the mug like he’d just realized the drink was poisoned.

“What is it?”

“Not enough cinnamon,” he said like this was a matter of life and death.

After a couple of cranks of the cinnamon grinder over each cup, he handed mine back.

“Okay now?” I said.

Walter took a sip. He tick-tocked his head, then smacked his lips. “Not bad. The corn is perfect though. Riley picked it yesterday.”

I drank some.

“Better?”

“Mmm.”

“It’s good to see you smiling this morning. How are you holding up?”

“I’ll live.”

It was the only time Walter asked me anything about the show, even though given the amount of time he’d spent training me, he of all people had earned the right to ask whatever he wanted to know.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” I said. “Isn’t the restaurant closed today for Dad’s opening party?”

“Oh, I…” Walter looked around the kitchen like he was trying to locate something he’d misplaced. “I’m making a surprise for the, uh, party.”

“Oh, yeah. What?” Walter was a lousy liar.

He cracked a grin, then snapped the dish towel at me. “You got me. You know, my mother always said atol de elote was so sweet, it could make even the most rotten day taste better.”

“Thanks. It did.” And I meant it. At least for a bit, the sweet atol had driven away everything else.

“Good.” Walter thumped me on the back. “I’m going back to bed now. See you later.”

“’Night.”

Walter didn’t need to watch Can You Cut It? to know what had happened. I’d told him—him and everyone else in town who mattered to me. It was hard at first, but the more times I said it out loud, the easier it got, especially because, like Dad, a lot of people shared their own stories about times they’d messed up. None of them had their stories shown on television to millions of people, but still, it helped.

The worst had been telling Josh and Jeanine. I told them and Zoe on the way back to Petersville after the finals. Zoe didn’t seem to get it—or maybe she did and just didn’t understand why it was a big deal, as someone who looks at everyone’s cards during Go Fish and moves up her piece to the Lollipop Woods in Candy Land when no one’s looking. But Josh and Jeanine, they got it, and even though they never said it, I knew they couldn’t believe what I’d done.

That’s what crushed me: they just couldn’t believe it.