“Yes.”
Georgia looked giddy. “Haveyoumet him?”
“Yeah. Once.”
Georgia now had the look of someone waiting to hear a juicy secret. But if she was hoping to get more out of Sylvie, she was out of luck.
“Come on.” Sylvie grabbed the sheet pan and tilted her head toward Boris. “We need to ask him about a blow-dryer.”
“Right. Guy’s secret trick.” Georgia followed Sylvie to the front of the room.
Sylvie was never sure how to answer questions about Guy Fabre. Once upon a time, her mom had been his mentor. But somewhere along the way, the student had eclipsed the teacher.
Guy was now running an empire. Restaurants. Cookbooks. TV shows. Maybe he’d gotten too busy to visit Sylvie’s mom? But now, Sylvie was starting to wonder if there was another reason Guy and her mom stopped talking.What if he had something to hide, and was afraid she’d figure it out?
Sylvie set the pan of macarons on Boris’s desk.
Boris looked up from his stack of papers. “May I help you two?”
“We need a blow-dryer,” said Georgia.
“Looks like Georgia thinks they’re at the salon,” said Darius.
The girl seated next to him gave a snigger.
Boris eyed the pale pink disks. “It just so happens I have one here. May I ask how you want to use it?”
“The assignment was to make a batch of perfect macarons,” said Sylvie. “But that won’t be possible unless we can get our shells to set, which as you put it, is difficult on humid days.”
Georgia squeezed in. “So, we need the blow-dryer to move things along. Dry them out so we can get them into the oven before the end of class.”
“I see.”
For a moment, Boris didn’t speak. He just sat there, arms folded, smiling at the two of them. “I was hoping someone would think of that trick.” He rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a black blow-dryer with flecks of frosting caked to it. “Pay attention, class. You never know when a recipe might force you to think outside the box.”
Sylvie couldn’t help but notice Darius, suddenly looking as if he’d swallowed a cockroach. Sylvie plugged in the blow-dryer and flicked it on. A cool breeze whipped across the glossy pink shells. All eyes were now fixed on their sheet pan.
“It’s working,” Georgia whispered.
Sylvie nodded.
Like sun blotting dampness from the ground, their macarons were drying.
“Absolutely perfect,” said Boris. “Congratulations, ladies. Once they come out of the oven, you’ll officially be the winners… . It appears you two make a good team.”
Sylvie smiled. This time, there was no denying it. Despite their rocky start, once they stepped into the kitchen, they really werea perfect pair.
“Thank you, Mr. Bergen.” Georgia’s pouty lips spread into a glossy moonbeam smile. She turned to Sylvie. “We’re going to win!”
“I know!” Sylvie was already plotting her next steps. She’d use this opportunity to get some magical ingredients from the storage cellars during the Commis Contest. Then, she’d hunt down a spell that could help her find out the truth about Guy Fabre.Was he really an innocent bystander? Or was he the mastermind behind the biggest upset in the Golden Whisk’s history?Her mom’s voice echoed in her head.The truth is like a good baguette. It takes time to rise.Perhaps now, it was finally ready.
Stuck in the Same Food Truck
BY THE END OF CLASS, ALMOST EVERYONE HAD CROWDED AROUNDSylvie and Georgia to congratulate them on their win.
“That trick with the blow-dryer really made all the difference,” said Georgia. She glanced over at Darius, whose macaron shells were still raw in the middle.
Boris shook his head. “Sorry, Mr. Maxwell, but I’m afraid your team is in last place. That’s what happens when you try and skip a step. You can’t bake macarons until the top layer forms a skin… . Better luck next time.”
