“Now that he’s president, the whole thing has been dredged up. Everyone is under scrutiny. You have to rise above the gossip, Sylvie. Godard is on our side. That counts for something.”
Sylvie had only met Madame Godard once. She was the headmistress of Brindille, the school Sylvie had been dreaming of attending since she was old enough to reach the stove.
“I just wish I had more time to study. The six-week program covers everything from cake charms to bewitched breads … even mycology! I should’ve cookedmorewith mushrooms.”
Abby raised a hand. “I know it’s a lot. Finishing first in your class won’t be easy, but you’re going to do great. It’s in your blood.”
Sylvie smiled for real this time. Her mom was right.Thiswas her destiny. In fact, going to Brindille was the only future she’d ever imagined. When she cooked, something deeper came to life. Soups glistened like lakes bathed in moonbeams. Cakes sparkled like fireflies. Not everyone could bring that out in food. For example, Sylvie’s dad could barely work a toaster. But Sylvie was different. To prove it, she was prepared to cook her heart out, do whatever it took, to finish first in her class.
Of course, Sylvie wasn’t the only one standing on the precipice. She glanced at her mom. “I wish I could go with you … cheer you on at the competition.”
Her mom smiled. “Thanks, sweetheart. I wish you could too. But we each have something to prove if we don’t want to get banned. Besides, I can’t protect you in Paris. At least at Brindille, there are enchantments in place. I need to know you’re safe… .”
Sylvie caught Mom looking at her hand and stuffed her fist into her jacket. She didn’t need to be reminded of why she needed protection. When Sylvie was six, she had a run-in with a basket of muffins delivered to the house by afan.She could still smell them, sweet like summer pie. Naturally, Sylvie dove in. The next thing she knew, an overwhelming pain sliced through her.
They’d been laced with butcher’s-broom. Instead of a mouthful of muffin, Sylvie got a dozen stitches and a tetanus shot that day. Ironically, she’d been lucky. It had ended much worse for her mom’s Golden Whisk teammates.
“Now, come on. We don’t want to be late.” Her mom fastened a small bronze pin that looked like a dot of ink onto her blouse and stepped out of the car.
“After you.” Abby pointed to an old diner.
Here?Sylvie grabbed her backpack and hopped out. The sensation of pins and needles hit the soles of her feet. It had been a long drive to get here from their home in Los Angeles. Sylvie gave her legs a shake, trying to get rid of the annoying feeling.
A line of 18-wheelers stretched out in front of them like a series of colorful dominoes. A small building lined with low windows was tucked into the corner. Inside, Sylvie could see people sitting in booths, sipping coffee and eating eggs. A neon sign in the window caught her eye:WELCOME TONOWHERE.
Sylvie didn’t know what she’d expected Brindille’s entrance to look like, but this place didn’t seem the least bit magical.
“How about I buy you a slice of pie?” said Abby. “Banana cream used to always cheer you up.”
Sylvie’s stomach gave a pleading grumble. She did love a good slice of pie. A flaky and buttery crust was key. Plus, she always got her best ideas over dessert. “Banana cream sounds great.” If she was going to outsmart the other kids, she’d need a killer plan. Hopefully the pie would inspire her.
An old Datsun charged out of the parking lot, kicking up dirt and sputtering fumes. Sylvie waved the dust away. A man wearing a thick hoodie suddenly materialized. He stared at Sylvie intently as she passed. Sylvie quickly checked her face for potato chip fragments.Clean.She turned around to see if he was still looking at her, but he’d disappeared.
Weird.
Sylvie pushed the stranger from her thoughts and followed her mom into the diner.
A portly waitress in a mustard-colored uniform stood near the entrance. Her eyes settled on Abby. “Just one?”
“Two,” said Sylvie, stepping out from behind her mom.
Sylvie still hadn’t hit her growth spurt. As a result, she was smaller than most fourteen-year-olds. Her mom always tried to put a positive twist on it.Tiny but mighty.
Embarrassing.
Truthfully, Sylvie didn’t mind being short. It came with some benefits. She slipped through crowds unnoticed and flipped on her skateboard without whacking her head on the sidewalk.
“Right.” The woman grabbed two menus and headed toward a table near the back. “Special today is shrimp gumbo.” She plopped the menus down. “Name’s Marge. I’ll come back to take your order.”
Abby smiled. “Thank you.”
Sylvie dropped her bag and slid into the booth. The scent of old grease hung in the air.
The man at the table next to them burped loudly.
Ugh!
Abby set down her purse. “I need to let someone know we’re here. Choose something to eat. I’ll be back.”
