Georgia inserted the peanut butter ball into the slingshot. Sylvie had never imagined a rolled-up old math test could be so handy.
“You really think you can hit the cwtch with that thing?” asked Sylvie again.
Georgia closed one eye, tracking the cwtch as it floated slowly toward them. “Trust me. This’ll work in a pinch. Now let me focus.”
“Right. Sorry. I just—”
“Shh!”
Sylvie turned her attention back to the remaining peanut butter balls on the steps. With the change in ingredients, they’d decided not to make too many at once.But is it enough? How many treats can a dragon eat?
If they really were irresistible, it was probably better to start out slow. It was like Sylvie with brownies. If a whole pan was in front of her, even though she knew it would make her sick, she’d devour it. The goal was to get LeGrande to pause the competition, not unleash an overcaffeinated dragon with an epic stomachache.
“Wait!” said the announcer. “Here comes Caron, and it looks like his first showpiece is complete too!”
France’s kitchen sailed toward the cwtch.
“Oh no you don’t!” Georgia let the peanut butter ball fly.
Sylvie held her breath.
“I can’t look,” cried Flora.
Caron’s kitchen was closing in, fast.
Thunk!
Sylvie must’ve blinked, because the cwtch and peanut butter ball disappeared.
“Did you hit it?”
“I … think so,” said Georgia. “Actually, I’m not sure. Maybe I just hit Caron’s skybox?”
Sylvie twisted around. “Where did the dragon go?”
“How can anyone see it now?” asked Flora.
France’s kitchen had completely taken over the spotlight.
Rude!
“Kitchens aren’t supposed to idle at center stage,” Flora said. “I hope the judges ding him for that.”
Sylvie grabbed another peanut butter ball and handed it to Georgia. “Never mind that, just keep looking for the cwtch.”
People cheered as Caron pulled out several feathers and waved them in the air.
“What’s this?” cried the announcer. “Looks like Caron has a trick up his sleeve. Gallus plumes! Ouch! Zotter won’t be pleased.”
Maybe it was Sylvie’s imagination, but Zotter’s face suddenly seemed red. He tapped his Blade against another sphere of sugar and sent it hurtling into the arena.
“Looks like Zotter’s sending out another dragon,” said the announcer.
The second cwtch sailed past France’s kitchen.
Caron glared at Zotter as he threw the feathers into a pot of chocolate. Several roosters with ruby-red combs strutted out.
“Caron and Zotter are going toe-to-toe,” bellowed the announcer.
