Sylvie leaned over and whispered to Georgia, “I bet now he’s wishing he’d spent more time studying.”
Georgia stifled a giggle.
Big Shawn, who’d finished in third place, was staring appreciatively at their cookies. “You two get to be part of the Commis Contest. That’s so exciting.”
“Thanks.” Sylvie popped a macaron into her mouth. “Third spot is pretty good too. Want one?” She held out the platter.
“Sure.” Shawn stuffed one into his mouth and stared at his watch. “I just hope my parents don’t find out that I finished third. I doubt they’ll call itpretty good.”
Before Sylvie could say anything, Adara rushed over. “Georgia! Congratulations! I suppose there’s a silver lining: Get paired with a cheater, you win. But don’t worry…” Adara gave Georgia a sympathetic smile. “I don’t thinkyoucheated.”
Georgia frowned. “Butwedidn’t cheat.”
Adara glanced doubtfully at Sylvie. “Uh, sure.”
Sylvie had been in this position before. Why believe the good when it was so much easier to believe the bad? By now, it had become an unpleasantly familiar sensation, like an itch trapped beneath a cast.
Georgia folded her arms across her chest. “I’m serious, Adara. I was standing next to Sylvie the entire time. So, either you believe me, or you don’t.”
“O-of course I believe you,” Adara sputtered. She turned to Sylvie and forced a smile. “C-congratulations.”
“Thanks,” said Sylvie. It was good of Georgia to stick up for her. Sylvie had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone believe her. She scooped up her belongings. “I’ll see you guys in the cafeteria. I’m starving.”
“Not so fast, Miss Jones.” Boris lifted two paper bag lunches off his desk. “I believe you and Miss Shaw are on cleanup duty, which means you’ll be eating in here.”
Ugh!Between Godard’s Bubble & Squeak memory and winning the macaron bake-off, Sylvie had forgotten all about Kitty’s punishment. She let her backpack slip back down to the ground.
Boris pointed toward the empty workstations. Mixing bowls full of sticky meringue, slicks of food dye, and dirty spatulas now rested on top. “As you both know, you’re learning to work together. Which means, you’ll be cleaning everything by hand… . The rest of you are free to go. Kitty will be in shortly to check on your progress.” Boris gathered up his belongings. “If she’s pleased, you’ll be free to leave. If not, you two might be scouring Brindille’s classrooms all night. Any questions?”
Sylvie and Georgia silently shook their heads.
“Good.” He moved toward the door with a heavy gait. Bits of steel poked out beneath his pant leg.
Sylvie watched him. Boris, her mom, and Guy Fabre had all been sent packages laced with butcher’s-broom on thesame day.It had always been clear it was no coincidence. Now, Sylvie couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it.Three packages. The same ingredient, but different recipes. That would take some serious talent and coordinating.A new idea percolated.Whoever swapped the gilead buds with butcher’s-broom was also talented and clever… . What if it’s the same person?
But then where did that leave Guy Fabre as a suspect?You’d have to seriously be nuts to send yourself a hex laced with butcher’s-broom.Then again, animals chewed off their own legs to break free from traps.Maybe a desperate person would do something just as risky to throw off the CCS?
Streaks of sunlight burst through as Boris vanished out the door.
Sylvie stared after him. If she wanted to get her Blade, she had to figure out the truth. This was her mission, and it couldn’t fail. Her future, and her mom’s, were riding on it.
Georgia cleared her throat, and Sylvie set her thoughts of the Golden Whisk aside. For the first time since they’d met in the dorms, she and Georgia were alone.
“This place is worse off than ten miles of bad road. It’ll take hours to clean up,” said Georgia.
Sylvie grabbed the lunch bags off Boris’s desk and handed one to Georgia. “Then I guess we better get started. I can scrub the counters if you want to load the dishwasher.” She tore into a flaky bit of dough that was stuffed with sausage. “Mmm … I haven’t had pigs in a blanket in years. One time I ate too many and couldn’t stop snorting for a week.”
“Snorting?”Georgia grabbed a sticky mixing bowl. “Good thing I ate a big breakfast. You can have mine if you want. But—”
“Thanks!” Sylvie dove into Georgia’s bag. “All I got was a gummy fish and bite of pie this morning.”
“You better not keep me up snorting all night,” said Georgia, looking alarmed.
“Relax,” said Sylvie. “It doesn’t happen unless you eat five at a time.”
Bits of sausage juice dripped onto Sylvie’s chin.
Georgia goggled at her. “You sure about that? I’d say things are already lookingpiggish.”
