by R. L. Stine
“Toby would love everything in here,” I whispered. “And then he’d torture us all forever.”
“Sascha, are you feeling better?” she asked. “We should get going.”
I didn’t answer. I had my eyes on a stack of blue cans on the back shelf. The cans were about the size of soda cans, and they had green labels on one side.
“What’s that?” Nicole leaned closer to see them better.
“I don’t know.” I picked up a can and read the label out loud to her: “Monster Blood Is Back!”
“Huh?” Nicole squinted at it. “Monster Blood?”
She took the blue can from me and started to pry the lid off—and the store owner let out a shriek: “NOOOO! DON’T OPEN THAT!”
Bardo’s heavy robe brushed the floor as he ran toward us, waving both hands. “Don’t open it, girls!” he repeated breathlessly.
Nicole lowered the can in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
He rubbed sweat off his bald head. “You have to buy it if you want to open it,” he said. “It won’t be fresh if the air hits it.” He took the can from Nicole’s hand.
“Fresh?” I said. “What is Monster Blood? Do you eat it?”
He shook his head. “Eat it? No. It’s just green slime. You know. Kids love to play with slime. It’s perfectly harmless.”
I gazed at the stack of cans. “Toby likes to play with anything that’s gross and slimy,” I said to Nicole. “He even makes his own slime. It’s disgusting.”
“Buy him some Monster Blood,” Nicole said. “His birthday gift. Done.”
I picked up two cans and handed them to Bardo. “I’ll take them.”
They were only two dollars a can. Cheap. I tucked them into my backpack.
“A pleasure doing business with you,” Bardo said. “Any time you need evil toys, you know where to come.”
I followed Nicole back outside. The sun had darkened to red. It hung lower in the sky. And the spring air now felt cool against my cheeks.
We started to trot along the sidewalk. The TV studio was two blocks away. We didn’t want to be late for our tryout.
A few minutes later, the building came into view. A three-story white granite office building with a neon sign over one door that read GREENLIGHT STUDIOS.
My heart started to pound as we stepped inside. A receptionist by the door pointed. “It’s Studio B-3,” she said. “The kitchen set.”
Nicole and I turned and hurried down the hall. Our shoes thundered over the marble floor. I sucked in a deep breath and held it, trying to force away my nervousness.
We stopped outside the glass doors of Studio B-3. Inside, I could see several kitchens set up—stoves and sinks and wall cabinets—in a circle. A lot of people wearing headphones were hurrying around. And one of the little kitchen areas already had kids hanging out inside it. A cooking team waiting to start.
I counted three video cameras inside the circle. And a long wooden table with chairs outside the circle. I guessed that’s where the judges sat.
I turned to Nicole. “Are you nervous?” I asked.
She frowned at me. “Does a bear burp in the woods?”
Did I mention she always gets weird when she’s stressed out?
“Come on. We’re gonna rock this contest!” I said. I grabbed the handle and pulled the door.
It didn’t budge.
I pulled harder. No.
I gave the other door a hard tug. It wouldn’t move.
I turned to Nicole with a sigh. “We must be too late,” I said. “We’re locked out.”
Nicole laughed. She pointed at the door handle. “It says push.”
I could feel myself blushing. “Oh, wow. Guess I’m a little nervous, too.”
I pushed open the door and we stepped into the studio. We were instantly greeted by the sound of two dozen people talking at once. Over the roar, a man’s voice boomed on a loudspeaker: “We can kill the lights, people. We’re not recording this, remember?”
That’s why the three cameras were standing without anyone behind them. This was just a tryout to see which teams would make it to the actual TV show.
Nicole and I stood awkwardly by the door, watching everyone scamper around. We recognized the kids from our school on the other teams. I called out to my friend Debra. But she was busy talking with Miller, her partner.
A young man came striding toward us, waving a clipboard at his side. He had short blond hair and blue eyes, and his cheeks were tanned, covered in blond stubble. He wore a dark blue blazer over a white shirt, a red necktie loosely tied, and tight, straight-legged jeans.
“Hello, hello,” he said. “Welcome.”
“Thank you,” Nicole and I said in unison.
“I’m Heston,” he said. “Heston Hill. I’m an exec producer. Everyone calls me Hess. And you are …” He checked his clipboard. “Sascha and Nicole?”
“That’s us,” I said.
“Kitchen number two,” he said, making check marks on his paper. He pointed. “You know how it works, right?”
“Yeah. We watch the show all the time,” I said.
“We cook a lot,” Nicole chimed in. “We’re really awesome cooks.”
Hess stared at her. “I like your self-confidence,” he said. “Keep that enthusiasm going.”
“No problem,” Nicole said.
Where did she get that confidence?
My legs felt like rubber bands as we walked to our kitchen. And my chest was all fluttery, like I had a hummingbird inside it.
“This is cozy,” Nicole said. We checked out our counter and the stove and oven. We opened the cabinet. It was filled with spices and ketchup and mustard and stuff to add to our food dishes.
I waved across the counter to Debra, and she waved back. She mouthed the words Good luck. Her partner, Miller, made a face at us.
Then the man’s voice on the loudspeaker rose over the huge room again. “Are we ready to begin? The judges are finishing their cocktail hour. They are ten minutes away. Hess, are the teams in place?”
“We are waiting for one more team,” Hess said into his mouthpiece. “Oh, wait. Here they come.”
The glass doors opened, and a boy and a girl walked into the studio. I recognized them immediately. I gasped and let out a cry: “Oh NO!”
Beside me, Nicole groaned. “Oh, please. Give us a break.”
Hess was checking them off on his clipboard. Then he pointed them to the kitchen next to ours.
Ashli Lorraine and Nathan Diggs.
The two biggest cheaters on earth.
The two kids in school who nobody likes. Take my word. I’ll bet you even their parents can’t stand them!
Ashli and Nathan.
Just thinking their names brought back my headache.
“I didn’t know they were chosen,” I whispered to Nicole.
“Bad news,” she muttered.
Ashli and Nathan are stuck-up rich kids. They always seem to be laughing at everyone else. They never really smile. They only smirk.
They always have their own private jokes. And you just know the jokes are making fun of someone.
And did I mention they are both horrible cheaters?
They copy their book reports off ones they find on the internet. And they brag about it.
Last month, they knew my papier-mâché lion head was good enough to win the sixth-grade art show. So they sneaked into the art room, poured water on it, and turned it into mush.
I know it was Ashli and Nathan.
Who else would do that?
They both have Apple Watches, and they use them to send each other the answers during math quizzes.
I could go on, but I’m sure you get the idea.
Whenever they get in real trouble, their rich parents swoop in and make sure they don’t get punished for it.
“Bad news,” Nicole whispered. “They’re going to be cooking right next to us.”
“Just ignore them,” I said. “I’ll bet they’ve never cooked a thing in their lives
. Wonder why they’re doing this.”
“To be on TV,” Nicole replied. “To be stars.”
Ashli had her straw-blond hair tied in a single braid on one side. She wore white tennis shorts and a violet T-shirt that said Designer T-Shirt on the front.
Nathan always wears silver-lensed sunglasses day or night. He has a gold ring in one ear. He wore a black sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up and a big hole at the collar, and straight-legged black jeans.
They stepped into the kitchen area beside us and dropped their backpacks loudly onto the counter. Then they gazed around the studio.
Since they were right next to us, I had to say hi. “How’s it going?” I asked.
Nathan lowered his sunglasses and squinted at me like I was from some other species he’d never seen before. “Yo,” he said.
“Hey,” Ashli said. She didn’t look up. She was searching for something in her backpack.
There was an awkward silence.
“Are you nervous?” Nicole asked them finally.
“Should we be?” Ashli replied with a sneer.
Nathan pulled something from his backpack and slid it onto the shelf at his side. Then he leaned over the low wall between the two kitchens. “Don’t get too close to our stove,” he said. “Ashli and I get in a zone when we cook, and we can’t be held responsible.”
Was he threatening us?
What did that even mean?
“The judges are here,” the voice on the loudspeaker announced. “Let’s get rolling before these kids graduate from college. Hess, where are the boxes of ingredients?”
“They’re still in my van,” Hess replied. “I sent Morgan and Courtney to carry them in.” Morgan and Courtney were Hess’s assistants.
Two men and a woman had entered through the glass doors. The contest judges. Hess hurried to greet them.
Ashli was still pawing through her backpack. Nathan got a text on his iPhone and was busy typing a reply. On our other side, Debra and Miller leaned on their counter, not talking, just waiting.
Three teams. Which of us would pass the tryout and go on to the real show?
I looked down. I had my fingers crossed on both hands and didn’t even realize it. Nicole had a water bottle tilted to her mouth and drank half of it down.
Nathan finished typing his text and turned back to us. “After Ashli and I win this, we’ll probably get our own TV series,” he said. “We’ll let you know when it’s on so you two can watch.” He snickered as if he had just made a very funny joke.
“What makes you think Nicole and I are going to lose?” I demanded.
He didn’t answer. He just laughed. Then he turned to Ashli and said something to her about ingredients.
I wanted to punch the grin off his face. But I knew that was a bad attitude to start the competition.
Nicole shook her head. “They probably cheated already,” she whispered. “They probably found a way to get the list of ingredients in advance.”
“It won’t help them,” I said. “We know we can out-cook them.”
I said those bold words to Nicole. But I had a heavy feeling the weight of a large rock in the pit of my stomach. And I suddenly had all kinds of doubts. Like, did we really belong here? What if the other two teams knew what they were doing and were a lot better than us?
I took a deep breath and told myself to stop being stupid. I’m almost always a confident person. But you understand, right? I’d never had to compete for a chance to be on TV—and two thousand dollars—before.
The two young women, Morgan and Courtney, returned to the studio, carrying cardboard boxes. They dropped one on the counter in front of each team.
“Okay, people,” Hess shouted into a microphone. “Showtime.”
The room grew quiet. Nicole and I turned and flashed thumbs-ups to Debra and Miller. I watched them for a short while. I wanted to see if they were nervous, too.
“As I think you know,” Hess said, “this is a one-round tryout. Your one chance to go on to the TV show to try for the Silver Spatula. Only one team will win. That’s the team our three judges decide is the most creative and presents the most delicious dish.”
The judges sat side by side behind their table. Each of them held an iPad in front of them. I wasn’t sure what the iPads were for. All three of them smiled across the room at us and gave us a short wave. I guess they were encouraging us.
I needed to be encouraged. My hands were wet and ice-cold. I rubbed them along the legs of my jeans.
“Okay, teams,” Hess shouted. “Open the boxes. Let’s see what four ingredients you will all be cooking with!”
A blast of music burst from the loudspeaker. I guess they wanted to add more excitement and tension.
Nicole and I reached for our box at the same time. And we both lifted the lid. We gazed inside.
And then we both opened our mouths in gasps of horror.
The music stopped.
“W-worms!” I choked out.
Nicole and I both stepped back from the open box. Inside it, on top of the ingredients, at least a dozen purple-brown worms crawled over one another in a tangled heap. Like fat spaghetti come to life!
The sour aroma of dirt and worm slime invaded my nose and mouth, and I started to cough. Nicole grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it.
“What’s wrong, Team Two?” Hess said, walking slowly toward our kitchen.
“Worms,” I repeated, pointing into the box. “It’s so gross.”
Then I realized that in the kitchen next to us, Ashli and Nathan were laughing. Nathan kept pointing to the box and hee-hawing so hard, he had tears in his eyes.
“You should have seen your faces!” Ashli exclaimed. “Priceless! Priceless!”
Hess leaned over the table, peered into the box, and grinned. “Did you get those at a bait shop?” he asked Ashli and Nathan. “Wish I was on the lake with my fishing rod. Those are beauties.”
“But … aren’t they going to get in trouble for doing this to us?” I said.
“I like trouble,” Hess replied. “It makes for a more exciting show.”
Nathan grinned at us. “I slipped them into your box while you two were looking at Debra and Miller,” he said.
“Nathan and I like to shake things up,” Ashli chimed in.
“People! People!” the voice on the loudspeaker interrupted. “Can we get serious now? We only have the studio for two hours.”
On our other side, Debra leaned toward me. “I’d rather eat those worms than what those two are going to cook!” she exclaimed.
Nathan sneered at her. “No one asked you.”
Hess shook his head. “We are all here to have fun. Let’s be nice to one another, guys.”
Morgan dropped a fresh box of ingredients on our counter.
“Can we get started?” the loudspeaker voice said. “Check out your ingredients boxes.”
I pictured the fat, slithery worms again. I felt embarrassed that I’d made such a fuss over a bunch of worms. It was babyish. Nicole’s cheeks were still red.
Ashli and Nathan knew we were better cooks than them. They just wanted to shake us up before the contest started.
I tipped open the lid to the new box, and we both peered inside.
I saw three eggs, a bag of mushrooms, a chunk of cheddar cheese, and a slab of Canadian bacon.
“Okay. Ready, everyone?” Hess said. “Let’s see who can make the tastiest dish from those four ingredients. You have twenty minutes.”
Next to us, I saw Ashli and Nathan grinning at each other. “This is too easy. We’ve already won,” Ashli said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Nathan saw me watching them. “Hey, Sascha—don’t copy us,” he said. “We’ll turn you in if we see you watching us.”
You two are the cheaters, I thought. I spun angrily away from them.
“You can use only the four ingredients from the box,” Hess said. “Plus the spices and condiments in the cabinets behind you. Good luck. Get cooking!”
&n
bsp; Everyone on the three teams started moving at once.
Nicole rubbed her chin and gazed at the ingredients. “What do you think?”
“I think we can make a perfect omelet from these,” I said. I glanced at the big round clock on the far wall. “Twenty minutes is more than enough time.”
We were a great team. Nicole and I had cooked together so often. We went into action.
Frying pan out and greased. Eggs broken. Mushrooms and bacon sliced and chopped. Cheese cut into small chunks.
We worked quickly and smoothly as we prepared the ingredients. Then we dropped everything into the frying pan. I set it on the stove at a medium heat.
The omelet began to sizzle, and I lifted it with a spatula to let the runny part flow to the edges of the pan.
Then I glanced around the room.
The other two teams appeared to be a little frantic, everyone talking at once and moving at super-fast speed. They kept opening and closing cabinet doors, mixing ingredients, and slamming frying pans on their stovetop.
“Looking good!” I told Nicole.
I heard a crash. I turned toward it and saw that Miller had dropped a bowl of grated cheese on the floor. He and Debra scurried to clean it up.
Whoa.
A flash of movement made me blink. I spun around. Nathan was leaning over our side of the counter.
“Hey—!” I snapped. “Nathan—what are you doing over here? Did I just see you move near our stove?”
He went wide-eyed. “Huh?
“Did you just pour something into our omelet?” I demanded. “Did I just see you over here?”
“Are you serious?” Nathan cried. “I didn’t touch your omelet. I just reached over to borrow your saltshaker.” He waved the saltshaker in the air.
I turned to Nicole. She shook her head. “I didn’t see anything. I had my eyes on the judges.”
“You two are just freaking out because you know you can’t win,” Ashli chimed in.
Our omelet was finished. I turned off the heat and carried the skillet to the counter.
“It looks awesome,” Nicole said. She used a spatula to transfer it to a serving dish. “Smells great, too.”
