The Apple of Discord
THE KNIFE IN THE GLASS CASE GLINTED, CATCHINGSYLVIE’S EYElike a beacon of light, drawing her in.An eight-inch polished Santoku blade with a golden ironwood handle.It was ever-present, but alwaysjustout of reach.
Not once in her life had Sylvie touched this knife. The strangeness of that had never really crossed her mind, until now.
That’s what too many hours stuck in a car with your thoughts can do.
Now the irony hit her. She’d spent her life watching her mom use it.To chop onions. To cut away gristle… . To cook up spells.
With each recipe, Sylvie dreamed of standing by her mother’s side, her own Blade in hand, whipping up magic.
She swallowed hard. But would that dream come true? For the first time in her life, Sylvie wasn’t sure.
Sylvie’s mom, Abby, glanced over as the car slowed. “You all right? Sorry. Silly question … I know you’re not. But you’ve still got a shot at your dream.”
Sylvie forced a smile. “I know.”
An unruly lock of auburn hair flopped onto Sylvie’s brow. She brushed it away and ripped open another bag of potato chips, stuffing a handful into her mouth. A layer of grease and salt coated her tongue as she stared out the car window. The fading mansions of Montmarte, Louisiana glowed like a fleet of ghost ships as they sailed past.
Just like Montmarte and its misspelled name, Sylvie had missed her mark.
Correction.She hadn’t missed anything, which was worse. It’s not like she’d failed the test or turned out a disastrous recipe. Instead, she’d been labeled a cheat, found guilty by association—or, more accurately, by blood. After all, the Council of Culinary Sages, or CCS for short, wasn’t after Sylvie. It was after her mom.
They were the gatekeepers to the world, and school, Sylvie wanted to belong to. Unfortunately, Sylvie and her family were now caught in the crosshairs of the CCS’s latest policy:Anyone accused of cheating in a major cooking competition must prove their innocence, or hand in their knife and never cook up magic again.
Sylvie shoved another greasy shard into her mouth.But Mom didn’t cheat. I’m sure of it.Now, everything was riding on what happened next.
Abby shook her head. “Would you stop with the chips? I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”
Sylvie scowled at the broken fragments. Most people didn’t realize potatoes were part of the deadly nightshade family.Toxic if you eat too much.But Sylvie knew. In fact, she knew most things when it came to food. She stuffed another chip into her mouth, praying this would be the bite that finally did her in. If she got sick, maybe her mom could convince the CCS to give her a grace period before starting Brindille’s preparatory program?
Of course, she was grateful for the opportunity they were giving her. Sylvie still had a shot at testing into her mom’s old school. But Sylvie needed more time.To cook. To study.Outshining the other hopefuls at Brindille wasn’t going to be easy. Competition was steep. Now, Sylvie had to outperform them all if she wanted to test into Brindille and learn to cook up magic.
The car slowed as they pulled into an old truck stop.
“Remember what I told you about Brindille?” Abby asked. She looked around, trying to find a parking spot. “Avoid the garden—”
“At night. Unless I want to get doused in spice clouds by the ghost peppers,” finished Sylvie.
Her mom nodded. “And the stairs …”
“Are unfriendly, unless you give them chocolate peppermints.” That rule still seemed the strangest.
“Last but not least”—Abby pulled into a parking spot—“try to ignore the gossip. People at Brindille are going to be talking about the Golden Whisk … and me.”
Sylvie nodded. The disastrous match at the biggest magical cooking competition was still the stuff of legend. But mostly because of the cheating rumors that swirled around the former winner: Sylvie’s mom. For years, outlandish stories had spread, fueled by jealous competitors and gossipy bloggers, like Rumor Wheeler. Now, on the cusp of Golden Whisk All-Stars, tongues were wagging once again.
Just like Sylvie, Abby had received a CCS letter. Unless Abby wanted to hand in her knife and stop cooking up spells, she had to redeem her name by winning Golden Whisk All-Stars.
The whir of the engine died.
Her mom finally turned to face her. “There will be kids at Brindille who think this is justice. They’ll say our family is finally getting what we deserve. It’s not going to be easy, but I believe in you. I know you can do it, Sylvie.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Sylvie shoved the empty bag of chips into the cup holder. “But thisisn’tjustice! I was little when you won; so were the other kids at Brindille. Now, they’ve read the papers and think they’re experts? This whole thing is ridiculous! You didn’t cheat.”
Abby sighed. “I know. Trouble is, plenty of people never believed me. Bass campaigned on his policies of reform and won.”
Bass’s policies were more a convoluted grocery list than a course of action.Ranking protocols. Monitoring of schools and education. Banning anything or anyone that felt dangerous.Still, her mom was right. People wanted change, and Bass was delivering it.
