Page 53 of Alice Chen's Reality Check

Daniel makes a sympathetic noise. “Yeah?”

“My parents were convinced that he wouldn’t be able to get Bengali culture. And his parents thought I was a bad influence.” Firefly smiles up at him. “But you like my influence, don’t you?”

“I never would have discovered welding—and myself—without you,” Bacon says, punctuating it with a kiss. Firefly bounces up on her toes and pulls him in for a longer kiss.

And we’ve lost them. They’re full-on making out again, oblivious to the people around them. I glance up at Daniel, who scrunches his nose at me. I let out a quiet laugh and turn back to the challenge at hand.

Two long tables have been set up in a shallow V formation. Each table has twelve plates covered by red domes painted with flames. In retrospect, maybe eating that breakfast burrito was a bad idea. I drop Daniel’s hand and start jogging in place, hoping that I can hurry along my digestion and make room for more.

Once the producers explain our cue to us, Dawn Taylor arrives in a swirl of filmy red fabric, and filming begins.

“Hey, babes,” she says, winking and blowing a kiss to the camera. “It’s Dawn Taylor, and today we’re descending to the next circle of hell—gluttony!”

The cameras circle us as we step up to the seats labeled with our names. There are four couples at each table, and three plates in front of each pair of us. Tarun and Kendall are to our left, and next to them are Brittany and Jaxon. And to our right are Selena and Chase. I turnaway, unwilling to look at Chase. It’s too soon, and I have to push down the flickers of anger and grief I feel just hearing his voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daniel shift so that Chase is blocked from view.

“Today,” Dawn Taylor continues, “each of you must work with your partner to finish every last bite of food on the plates before you!”

“Wait, the Gluttony Challenge is to participate in gluttony?” I say under my breath. “Shouldn’t we benoteating if this is the circle for people who overeat? She does realize that Dante’sInfernowasn’t, like, an instruction manual, right?”

“I’ll level with you, I’m not sure Dawn Taylor has actually read the source material,” Daniel says.

Dawn Taylor gestures, and eight crew members dressed as waiters step up to the table. “We’ve got three delectable dishes for you. Feel free to eat them in any order and however you want. The only rule is that each couple must clean their plates. The last couple with food remaining on their plate is out. Now let’s take a look at what’s on the menu.”

The crew member closest to me whips off the cover of the first and smallest plate, revealing several wrinkly peppers.

“Chiles rellenos de queso de cabra,” Dawn Taylor says with careful enunciation. “In other words, peppers stuffed with cheese. Our chefs have added habanero chilies to the mix. A real treat…if you can handle the heat.”

“Ooh, my grandma made these for me once!” Selena says, clapping her hands together.

“I can do those, easy,” I say to Daniel. “My mom raised me on her homemade garlic chili oil.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been eating my grandmother’s buldak since I was a baby,” Daniel shoots back. “And she doesnothold back on the spice.”

Dawn Taylor flourishes her hand at the second round of dishes. “Next up, we have…cow eyes!”

The second cover is lifted to reveal a plate with a single raw cow eyestaring back at us. I’m viscerally reminded of high school biology class. Except I’d much rather dissect the eyeball than put it in my mouth. There’s a puddle of something slimy beside the eyeball, and I really don’t want to know what it is.

“We’ve had cow eyes before, sweetie. Remember the tacos de ojos?” I hear Kendall tell Tarun.

“That was at a Michelin-starred restaurant in New York,” Tarun hisses. “These are raw and prepared by rank amateurs, Kendall!” Their designated “waiter” glares at them.

“And last but certainly not least, I hope you’ve saved room for dessert,” Dawn Taylor says.

Off comes the final cover and there, sitting on the largest plate, is a huge, skull-shaped chocolate cake. It’s big enough to serve an entire class of voracious eighth graders. It’s the kind of cake that one kid inMatildahad to eat as a form of torture.

As we’re all staring in shock, the crew members light each cake on fire. There must be some kind of liquor soak on them, because the skulls ignite instantly. I hear Brittany squeak, and Noah swears at the flaming cakes. Firefly, on the other hand, is in her element. She starts twirling and waving her hand over the flames.

“And as a special prize, whoever finishes first will be treated to a four-course meal with wine pairings from a personal chef. And whoever finishes last is out of here. Your time starts now—give ’em hell!”

Daniel turns to me. “So, how do you want to do this?”

My gaze snaps to Chase. He’s already dug in and is covered in chocolate frosting. But here is Daniel, strategizing with me. I could get used to this.

“We should start with the peppers to kill our taste buds,” I begin. “Swallow the cow’s eye whole. Then split the cake.”

“Not a bad strategy.”

“But?” I prompt.

---