“Of course, nothing was ever the same between them,” finished Godard.
“So, Bass still thinks my mom cheated and Flammé’s team deserved to win,” said Sylvie.
The lines on Godard’s face turned heavy. “He’s never said it so plainly, especially since becoming president, but yes, I suspect so. The CCS even put up a generous reward for information that could lead to an arrest. It’s still on offer today, but no one has ever come forward. I suppose Bass thinks he’s finally righting a wrong… . That’s why your mom needs to show the world that she can compete and win without any tampering or controversy. If she doesn’t … rumors are like shadows, they’re not easy to shake off.”
Sylvie nodded. Godard was half right. Rumors weren’t easy to shake off, but her mom couldn’t redeem herself by winning All-Stars. The only way to truly prove she was innocent was to track down the person who’d really swapped the gilead buds with butcher’s-broom. Now, thanks to Godard’s memory, Sylvie thought she knew where to start looking:Guy Fabre.
“Now, I trust you won’t try to sneak into the school again,” said Madame Godard. “The last thing your mom needs to hear is that you’ve been poisoned by a belligerent staircase.”
“I won’t break in again… . But just so you know, I don’t think the stairswantedto bite me,” said Sylvie, recalling how the mouth on the final step had opened wide and then suddenly snapped shut. “Luckily, when I fell and hit my shin, I missed the teeth.”
Madame Godard smiled. “Yes. That waslucky.Still, one’s luck can sometimes run out.”
“Yes,” said Sylvie. Although something now told herluckhad nothing to do with it.A spell,thought Sylvie, watching Godard’s face.
Madame Godard eyed the clock on her desk. “I’m afraid our little discussion has made you late for class.” She pulled out a piece of paper and jotted something down and handed the folded slip to Sylvie. “Give this note to Instructor Bergen. It explains you were with me.”
Sylvie stared at the piece of paper. “Bergen? As in Boris Bergen … my mom’s old teammate?”
“Yes. He’s a teacher here now.”
Sylvie’s face grew warm. “What about Instructor Gideon? Why isn’t she teaching us today?”
“Because you’ll be cooking today… . Is there a problem?”
“No,” said Sylvie, pasting on a smile.
She’d known Boris worked for the school, but she didn’t realize he’d be her instructor. The accusations at the Golden Whisk had dealt him a heavy blow.Boris has plenty of reasons to be bitter,her mom once said.The same day I was sent the muffins, he was sent a box of bursting bonbons laced with butcher’s-broom. It took his leg and his Blade.
For reasons no one seemed to understand, the magic in that spell only worked one time. If something happened to your Blade, that was the end of your magical cooking career. Sylvie couldn’t help but find it ironic.Now, he’s here, helping others get their Blade.
Sylvie’s mind wandered back to the Golden Whisk. Everything with Bass went back to that moment. Perhaps that’s why the Apple of Discord had her name on it? If Sylvie could solve the mystery, maybe she could fix it all?
Unfortunately, the only clue she had was a book in an old memory. That wasn’t proof that Fabre did something wrong. After all, knowledge wasn’t a crime. The question was,What did Guy Fabre do with the knowledge?Sylvie wasn’t sure how, but she was going to find the answer.
The Borrowed Spork
SYLVIE WAS NOW STANDING OUTSIDE THE SMALLPIP CLASSROOM, which happened to be a food truck. Although, it didn’t look like it had been driven in ages. Weeds stretched up, wrapping around the flat tires like giant fingers. A large sticker of a plastic utensil was glued to the side, ready to scoop up the wordsTHEBORROWEDSPORK.
So much for her plan to quietly slip inside.How can twenty-four kids even fit in there?
She tried to give herself a pep talk.Even if everyone notices you walking in late, you have a note from Godard.Still, this wasn’t how she wanted to start her first day of cooking. On the other hand, her meeting with Godard made all the stares she was about to endure worthwhile.Thanks to the Bubble & Squeak, I’ve got some valuable clues.
Sylvie checked her watch. After class, she’d head over to the cafeteria to grab a bite and talk to Agnes about Guy Fabre.Maybe she’ll remember something useful?Plus, there was something else Sylvie wanted to ask her about …the thing she said about the right recipe being able to break down obstacles.Was there a spell that could lead Sylvie to the truth? If yes, why hadn’t anyone used it? There had to be a reason.
Of course, even if there was such a spell, Sylvie’s ability to cook it up was seriously hindered. First, she lacked access to the necessary magical ingredients. Second—and most importantly—she didn’t have her own Blade.Unless …A new idea percolated. Sylvie set the thought aside. Right now, there was another obstacle facing Sylvie. This one had no solution.
Sylvie took a deep breath and got on with it, yanking open the food truck’s door. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness inside.
“Ah, I see Miss Jones has decided to join us.”
Sylvie squinted past the seated silhouettes.
Boris Bergen stood at the front of the classroom. The only light in the room emanated from the glowing green disk clutched in his hand.
Sylvie stared. It reminded her a bit of the glowing jack-o’-lantern mushrooms she’d seen Flora holding. But jack-o’-lanterns were toxic. Would they really have them handling poisonous fungi on their second day?Maybe it’s a bitter oyster, thought Sylvie. Before she could consider it further, dozens of fluorescent lights flickered to life, bathing the room in an unnaturally bright haze.
“We were just discussing bioluminescent mushrooms,” said Boris. “Since Miss Jones doesn’t need to come to class on time, perhaps that means she is already familiar with bitter oyster mushrooms.”
