“‘I’m happy to see the CCS finally holding Abby Jones accountable for what she did. Abby has been training for All-Stars for over a year, but without cheating, I guarantee she won’t win. ’”
Sylvie stiffened.That’s not true. Mom had a week to practice!
Georgia continued.“‘When she loses, and they confiscate her Blade, you better believe I’ll be there to watch her go down.’ Our writers have since reached out to Flammé for further comment but have been unable to reach her.”
Sylvie tried to drown Georgia out, but it wasn’t right.They’re trying to make her look guilty, like she had all this time to train but can’t win without cheating.
Georgia slipped her hands onto the table and picked up her chocolate cream donut. Sylvie’s gaze narrowed. A sparkling pink phone was concealed inside Georgia’s sleeve.How did she get that past Kitty?
Part of Sylvie was impressed, but mostly she was furious. Georgia was using it to spread lies. Georgia slid the phone under her notebook and tapped the screen.The Daily Leek’s headline glowed brightly: “Deceit Bubbles Up at the Golden Whisk. Who Will be Abby Jones’s Next Victim?”
Below it was a picture of Sylvie’s mom and Josephine Flammé.
“I can’t believe All-Stars is only a few days away,” Adara squealed. “It’s soexciting!”
Big Shawn nodded. “I can’t wait to see what Ewald Zotter comes up with this time. His sugar work is amazing!”
“All I know is Sylvie’s mom will probably get banned at the end,” said Georgia firmly.
Crack! Bam!
Sylvie didn’t realize she’d dropped her bowl until she heard it smash.
Georgia looked up, quickly tucking the phone into the bag by her feet. But it was too late. Sylvie marched over. She wasn’t going to let her get away with this. “You’re spreading lies.”
Georgia’s lips tightened. “Not according to Rumor Wheeler.”
“I don’t care whatThe Daily Leekhas to say.” Sylvie’s eyes cut through Georgia. “But I bet Madame Godard would love to hear about yourdiscoveries.”
Georgia glared at her. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“You sure about that?” Sylvie snapped.
Kids started crowding around the table, bumping and jostling like a school of fish, eager to grab a morsel. Sylvie spotted the boy who’d burped in her face muscling in for a look.
Georgia leaned forward, eyes reflecting like diamonds. “You rat me out, and you really will be like your mom … a traitor.”
Someone in the crowd let out a low whistle.
Sylvie hated being called a traitor, but more than that, she hated when people called her mom one.
“Are you always such a brat?” Sylvie squared off.
“This is getting good,” someone whispered.
“No,” said Georgia coldly. “I guess you just bring out the best in me.”
The mob moved closer.
“Ouch!”
Sylvie felt an elbow in her back as someone lost their footing.
She flew forward, her hands slamming against Georgia’s half-eaten donut, as she tried to catch herself. Slicks of concentration cream shot out, striking Georgia’s blouse. Holes, like moth bites, rippled up on the fabric.
Georgia gasped. “Y-you’ve ruined my top.”
Before Sylvie could say anything, Georgia tackled her.
