Adara’s hands dropped back into her lap.
“In the meantime,” continued Madame Godard, “Kitty and I will be serving up an old school tradition. But first, two of our mentors are here today to speak to you about an old organization with a new chapter here at Brindille. Flora Jackson and Maggie Leung have worked hard to make this happen.”
Flora and the girl next to her, who Sylvie assumed was Maggie, smiled and jabbed elbows.
“I am so proud of their work! So please give them your undivided attention.”
Everyone clapped as the two girls made their way onto the stage carrying a large rolled-up poster.
Maggie marched up to the microphone in a pair of platform boots, a gleaming mentor badge pinned to her chef’s coat. Sylvie couldn’t help but notice Flora’s was missing. “Hello everyone! First, I’d like to thank Madame Godard for her support in bringing SIFT to our school.” She ran a hand through her straight black bob, revealing several pink highlights. “From dim sum to dosas, healing epazote to giggling gâteaus, the spells we cast and the foods we eat are influenced by different cultures. When we all have a seat at the table, the world of food becomes richer. Spells turn more powerful. That’s what Sages for Inclusion, Fairness, and Transparency is all about. We believe that every person, and every step in the process—from seedling to plated dish—should be treated equally.”
Maggie’s words caught Sylvie’s attention. When she’d read about the Apple of Discord in the library, she’d learned about Savior, the CCS’s first president. Sylvie racked her brain.What did the book say? That’s right! After he left the CCS, he started a club for inclusion, fairness, and transparency.Sylvie hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but now it made sense.It’s SIFT.
“So, whether we’re advocating for the local farmer that is growing peculiar plants, influencing more open food-related policies, or supporting the Sage hoping to preserve endangered spells and traditional foods, the global network at SIFT is there to help. Thanks to this new chapter, students will now have a space at school to come together, take action, and make sure that every voice is heard.” Maggie gave Flora a nod as they lifted the poster into the air.
Three-dimensional letters drifted off the dangling page and transformed into a cloud of flour. It sailed overhead, sprinkling down, like snow, in a delicate pattern that spelled outSIFT.
Sylvie straightened up.
Resting like a crown at the top of the poster—and now dusted across the ground too—was a symbol she recognized: a grape leaf with a pinpricked circle in the middle of it.Just like the one on August Strange’s ring.Something finally clicked.That’s the SIFT symbol!Julia’s words came back.He’s with like-minded friends who value truth and fairness over gold.Now, Sylvie thought she understood.SIFT is the resistance.She stared at Maggie and Flora standing on the stage.Does that mean they’re part of the resistance too?
“There’s a table set up at the back of the room,” said Flora. “After the assembly we’ll be signing up members and answering questions.”
Now, Sylvie needed to talk to Flora about more than why she’d been lurking around the school.But first… Sylvie fingered the envelope in her pocket.I need to warn Godard.
“Ladies. Thank you both for your time and dedication,” said Madame Godard, moving back to the center of the stage. “I encourage all our students to consider joining SIFT. But first, Kitty and I will be serving up the recipe that won the very first Commis Contest … Transparent Pie!”
An explosion of enthusiastic claps reverberated around the room.
“Thank you.” Godard raised her hands to quiet the crowd. “We do this every year to help inspire student creativity, and to remind everyone that while this is a competition, it’s also about having fun!”
With that, Kitty emerged from the shadows carrying a large pie with a golden custardy center.
She marched past, draped in her oversized cardigan. The slender outline of the book in her pocket had been replaced with something that wriggled like a sock puppet. If Sylvie had to guess, it was the frog. Behind Kitty, Secret and Sauce pranced. Two delicate silver harnesses were tied around them. Attached at the other end, rolling toward the stage, was a small, old-fashioned cotton candy machine.
Kitty stopped in front of the small table next to Godard and released the kittens. They leapt into the air, chasing after one of Kitty’s loose sweater threads as she took a seat.
“Boys and girls!” Madame Godard waved a hand toward the pie resting on the table. “Kitty has spent years teaching the finer details of preparing the perfect pâte sucrée and flakiest pâte brisée. But there’s more to the magic of pie than just the crust. Who here has heard of tasseography … the reading of tea leaves?”
Dozens of hands shot up.
Madame Godard looked around the room. “Well, there’s a reason we don’t teach that at Brindille. It’s a fairy tale. But pietography—the art of reading pie—that’s the real deal.”
Kitty nodded in agreement. “Transparent pie tends to work best—no fruit to turn it goopy.” She pulled out her Blade and proceeded to slice the pie into wedges.
“Today, twelve lucky students will taste the recipe of Cassius Custard, first winner of the Commis Contest, and have their fortunes read. I would encourage all students competing in tomorrow’s contest to take note. Recipes that win tend to impressandentertain.”
Madame Godard pulled the cart toward her, and the whir of the cotton candy machine started. “Once the fairy floss produces a name, the lucky student will step forward to have their fortune read.” Billows of pink fluff spun through the air like silkworm cocoons. She reached out and pulled off a sticky tuft.
Sylvie squinted, trying to spot a name etched into it.
“Enrique Jimenez,” read Godard.
A small and slender boy with the sleeves of his chef’s coat rolled up stepped forward. “Here.”
Madame Godard waved him over. The room grew quiet as Enrique took a seat.
Kitty slid a plate toward him. “Eat.”
