“Now, as most of you know, Knife Skills Showdown is a challenge in every season, and that’s because it tests one of the most fundamental skills we chefs need. It immediately separates the weak from the strong. If you can’t cut, you’ll never cut it. Each of you has three onions in the cupboard under your sink. Take them out now.”

I reached down, pulled my bag of onions out, and dumped it upside down. Three very large onions rolled out.

Two of Keya’s onions could have fit inside one of mine. I checked out everybody else’s. There were a range of sizes, but nobody’s largest onion was close to as big as my smallest.

“Do you think somebody injected your onions with human growth hormone?” Keya said. “You should say something.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. I barely had a fighting chance with normal-size onions, but the few times I’d seen a kid work up the nerve to complain about anything on Can You Cut It? Chef JJ tormented and mocked them for being weak for the rest of the show.

“Now, when I start this stopwatch.” She held up a large digital clock. “The timers on your counters will also start. There’s no time limit on this challenge. Just chop each onion into even pieces as fast as possible. You will be judged on both speed and precision. If you finish first, but I find one strip of half-cut onions, you won’t win. You have to find that perfect balance between speed and accuracy.”

“And safety,” Dieter added.

“Right. Get blood on your onion and you’re out. Now review your equipment and make sure you’re not missing anything.”

Three humungous onions: check.

Knife rack: check.

I looked up and waited for the next instructions.

Beside me, Keya slid a leather envelope onto the counter and unfolded it. Inside, four knives were nestled in leather pouches, each with a sleek pearly handle.

She had her own knives? Nobody had brought their own knives since Parker in Season Two.

Keya wrapped her hand around the largest handle, slid the knife out of its pocket, and held it up to the light. I must have been staring because she smiled that freakishly friendly smile right at me and said, “My father made them for me.”

“Cool,” I heard myself say.

Not only were they hers, the knives had been specially made for her! Next, she was going to tell me they had dragon heartstring cores.

I grabbed the largest plastic handle sticking out of my rack and pulled. The knife was nothing special, but it had a short wide blade that Walter had assured me gave good control.

So she had her own knives, so what.

All I had to do was not finish last.

“Okay, folks, this is it. Knife Skills Showdown!” Chef JJ shouted. “No way to fake knife skills. If you can’t cut, you’re in trouble starting now!”

The clock on our counter began counting off seconds in glowing red numbers.