Slowly, Sylvie peered through the window. A shadow was hunched over the teacher’s desk, picking up bags of glowing jack-o’-lantern mushrooms and dried milkweed. Sylvie pressed her nose against the glass …magical ingredients.
Fuzzy contours turned sharp as the shadow lifted the bag of glowing mushrooms. Sylvie spotted a pair of slender hands and arms draped in silky blue pajamas. The bag floated higher, illuminating the hazy face. Before Sylvie could stop herself, she let out a gasp.Flora!
Sylvie threw a hand over her mouth and quickly ducked down. Footsteps moved toward the door. There was no time to think. Sylvie spider-crawled down the hallway, turned the corner, and broke into a run.
Beams of moonlight spread across the Long Hall as Sylvie raced deeper into the library and hid behind the ivory bust ofFINNEASFIZZLEFOTT, FOUNDER OFFIZZLEFOTT’SCANDYCOMPANY. She tried to catch her breath.
Panting, Sylvie peered around the corner. From the scroll, August looked down at her, his eyes burning bright as the sun. She shot him an unslaked look.Wherever you are, I hope you’re having better luck than me.
The sound of footsteps died down. Slowly, Sylvie crawled out of the hiding spot. Other than August’s looming picture, the place was deserted.Good. Flora is gone. But what was she doing? Is she the spy? She can’t be,Sylvie told herself.Kitty said it has to be someone who works here.But somehow that didn’t feel reassuring.
Everything had happened so quickly, but Sylvie saw the pile of dried herbs and glowing fungi. Now, she couldn’t help but think back to the criollo chocolate smudged on Flora’s coat.A special order … from Godard. Was that the truth? Or is she stealing magical ingredients?Sylvie wished she knew the answer. But now, there was something more pressing.
Sylvie crouched down and headed on all fours toward Ms. Honeycut’s desk. A cockroach skittered out from underneath a table and ran across her hand. Sylvie swallowed her scream.Eww!Even the burn of the ghost peppers was better than this.
Sylvie gave her hand a shake and pushed the scuttling sounds from her mind. There was the bin, sitting next to Ms. Honeycut’s desk.Please be there. Please!She pulled herself up and clambered over the counter.
Sylvie tapped her watch, adjusting the display to full brightness, and started digging. There were so many books:Cooking for Gold: How to Win Big at the Golden Whiskby Fernand LeGrande;The Art of Sugarcraftby Ewald Zotter;Sauces & Super Spells: A Simple Guideby Circe Coulis.
Sylvie stretched her leg. It was becoming stiff and throbby now.Ignore it! There are more important things.She kept rifling through the bin. There was another book by Fernand LeGrande.Lemons into Lemonade: Turning the Golden Whisk into the World’s Greatest Culinary Competition.A familiar cover caught her eye.Yes! Le Guide Culinaire.She pulled it from the stack and peered between the binding and the spine.Still there.Carefully, Sylvie pulled out the plating tongs and slid them into the book’s spine. Deeper and deeper. Finally, she felt them press against the folded paper.
It was funny. Tongs were an essential tool for plating precision. They were used by chefs for twisting spaghetti into dainty nests and positioning delicate tuiles on desserts. But Sylvie was willing to bet this was the first time they’d been used to extract secrets from an ancient cookbook.
She adjusted the tongs, pinched them closed, and slowly pulled up. Sylvie could see it now: a yellow piece of paper flecked with gold. It slid out like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis.
Sylvie turned the paper over.It’s official CCS letterhead.Sylvie recognized it from the letter she’d received. She placed the book back into the bin.
“Ahem!”
Sylvie pulled her hands out and spun around.
Standing in front of her was a squat man wearing an enormously tall toque. He had a stubby gray moustache and sagging jowls like a basset hound. The wordsCHEFJAKE, INSTRUCTORwere stitched onto the breast pocket of his heavily starched chef’s coat.
He stared at her through his round glasses. “Who … are … you?”
Sylvie’s hands turned clammy as Jake moved closer. “My name is Sylvie Jones.”
“Ahh … the infamous Pip.” He smelled of yeast and Parmesan. It would’ve been inviting if it weren’t for the look he was giving Sylvie. It reminded her of stale bread, hard and sour. “No one is allowed in here after hours.”
“I know. S-sorry about that.” Sylvie looked around, trying to come up with something. Finally, she had the note. She hadn’t come this far only to hand away its secrets. Besides, there was a chance Jake was the CCS mole. Maybe she could squeeze past and make a run for it?
He moved to the side, blocking Sylvie’s escape. “A student reported hearing footsteps in the school. She said they were heading toward the library. So, Godard sent me to inspect.”
Sylvie was certain she knew who the mystery student was.Flora.In retrospect, it was a smart move.Tell the headmistress you heard noises to cover your own tracks and trap the other person.
“Youhave five seconds to tell me what you’re doing,” said Chef Jake. “Then, I pull out the new measures in place … much nastier than the ghost peppers in the garden.”
For a moment, Sylvie still thought about charging past. But Chef Jake looked like the sort of teacher that would turn you into a toad for breaking the rules. She clenched the note tightly behind her back. There was only one thing left to do. Sylvie took a deep breath and let her hands fall to her sides. Her best bet now was to tell the truth …or at least some plausible version of it.
“I … I’m sorry.” Sylvie thrust out the book in her hands. Everything had happened so quickly she wasn’t even sure which one she’d managed to grab.
Jake read the title. “Sauces & Super Spells: A Simple Guide.What are you doing with this?”
“I … umm …” Sylvie fumbled with her words as she tried to figure out what to say. She caught sight of the wanted poster. “I was just trying to protect the school… . Everyone is talking about what happened today, with that guy August Strange. Some of the kids think he’s coming here. So I thought I could help trap him with a saucy spell. I’m sure that would impress the CCS even more than me finishing first in my Pip class.”
“You broke in here to try and cook up a spell because of … August Strange?” Jake’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her suspiciously.
Sylvie swallowed hard. “I know. It was stupid, but I was just trying to help.” She pretended to pull out a wedgie, as she pushed the folded paper deeper into her back pocket. “Sorry … undies riding up.”
