And it was genius, even Jeanine thought so. It was also wacky and embarrassing, but still genius, guaranteed to generate exactly the kind of buzz we needed.

Get this: we were going to sleep in it, parked right in front of The Food Connection on Fifth Avenue for the entire time I was on the show. And by “we,” I mean, Jim, Winnie, Josh, and my whole family. Jim and Winnie would go back to Petersville after the first day or so though. After all, somebody had to run The Doughnut Stop.

While I was on set, the Petersmobile Team would hang out in the plaza in front of the building wearing their PETERSVILLE: THE PLACE TO EAT T-shirts and holding signs with slogans like, PETERSVILLE: NOT JUST FOR GUYS NAMED PETER and PETERSVILLE: SMALL TOWN VIBE, BIG CITY EATS.

That last one was a stretch, but no more than lots of other ads I’d seen. Besides, since the makeover, Petersville definitely had way more good food than other small towns, so it was true-ish.

Mom even came up with an idea for how we could use the Petersmobile when Can You Cut It? was over. It would be like a Petersville food truck, and we’d stock it with local products like popcorn from The Pop Shop and Stinky Cheese Farm cheese, and then drive it to fairs and farmers’ markets.

…58…59…

Mom hit the stopwatch. “Time’s up.”

I groaned. “I got nothing.”

“You’re trying too hard,” she said. “Loosen up. Be creative.”

Be creative? That was like saying, “Be smart.”

“Can we take a break?”

“No!” Jeanine wagged a Sharpie at me. “Breaks are for krill. Are you krill or are you a shark?”

“Depends. How much sleep do sharks get?”

“That’s actually a really interesting question. Scientists don’t know whether sharks sleep at all. It has to do with—”

“Jeanine! Do you want me to do this or not?”

“Oh, fine. But you really need to work on your focus.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Okay, Mexican, Mexican…chicken…avocado?”

“Chicken and avocado? We’re talking about Can You Cut It? not Chipotle,” Jeanine said.

She was right. How much more blah could I get? I pressed my palms hard against my closed eyes until I saw purple blobs. “Eggplant?”

“Let’s stop.” I felt Mom’s hands on my shoulders. “You’re just fried. Nobody’s creative juices flow when they’re fried. Besides, I’ve got to run.”

I opened my eyes. “Where?”

Her eyes slid from my face to the floor. “Albany. Zo Zo, go get ready and I’ll drop you at Larissa’s.”

“I am ready.” She was wearing bear pajamas.

“Zo Zo, what did we say?”

“We said clean clothes. These are clean.” Zoe pet her furry sleeves.

“You woke up and put on clean pajamas?”

“We did.”

Mom looked at her watch, then up at the ceiling, clearly calculating how much time it would take to argue Zoe out of pajamas. “Fine.”

Zoe grinned, poking her tongue through the space where her two front teeth were missing.