Chef JJ called Harper to the tasting table first.

“So what do we have here?” She peered over the plate Harper set on the counter between them.

“These are Szechuan dry-fried green beans.” A bead of sweat escaped from Harper’s hair and rolled down the side of her face.

Chef JJ sniffed the blackened beans, then raised an eyebrow.

“They’ve got a bit of a kick,” Harper said.

Chef JJ speared a shriveled bean with her fork, put it in her mouth, and chewed.

And chewed…

Her eyes flew from the plate to Harper. Her fork clattered to the table. “Cracker!” she croaked.

Harper wrapped her arms around herself and hung onto her elbows.

Dieter pulled a sleeve of Saltines from under the counter, tore it open, and spilled a few into Chef JJ’s hand. She mashed two crackers into her mouth at once, then held out her hand for more.

When she’d downed a quarter of the sleeve, she glared at Harper. “Have you tried these?”

Harper shook her head. “I didn’t have time. Too much chili?”

“Here, you tell me.” Chef JJ picked up a clean fork, speared three beans, then handed the fork to Dieter, who passed it over the table to Harper.

Harper took the fork and slid one bean into her mouth.

“Nice try,” Chef JJ said.

Harper slipped the two remaining beans into her mouth.

We all watched as Harper chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed.

If Harper doesn’t become a chef, she should become a professional poker player or a politician or anybody who has to bluff for a living. Maybe her throat was on fire, but you’d never know it from looking at her face.

“So what do you think?” Chef JJ said.

“I…I think.” Harper reached for one of the glasses of water on the table.

Chef JJ elbowed Dieter. “Uh-oh, she needs a glass of water.”

“I don’t need one.” Harper’s voice was scratchy. “I would…like one.”

“Oh, I see,” Chef JJ said. “I misunderstood. I thought you needed water because eating these green beans is the culinary equivalent of swallowing a sword that has been doused in kerosene and lit aflame. I thought you’d created this dish as a form of torture for those who may have wronged you in a past life or killed a pet. But I see I was wrong. You don’t need water, because this is exactly how you wanted your string beans to taste. Is that right?”

Harper nodded slowly. You had to hand it to her. She was so going down—we all knew it—but she would not let Chef JJ break her. She wasn’t going to blubber like Izzy or lose her cool like Phoenix.

But Chef JJ was done with admiring Harper’s toughness and cooking technique. People watched the show to see her crack kids, and it was time to crack Harper.

Chef JJ tapped her fork against the plate. “So this is exactly the way you like them, is it?”

“It is,” Harper said, standing so straight, it seemed like she’d actually grown a few inches.