Flora froze. “H-how do you know about that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Sylvie. “Now I get it.”
“Hey guys!” Maggie sidled up to the table and plunked down her box, eying the mess. “What happened?”
Sylvie scratched the back of her head. “It was my fault. I sort of surprised Flora. But we sorted it out. Here, let me restack them.” She shoveled the pamphlets into her hands and gave Flora a look of understanding. They were each carrying secrets. But at least now Sylvie felt certain they were both looking out for the school.
“By the way, I’m Maggie. I mentor the first-year students,” said Maggie, as she helped reorganize the papers.
Flora gestured toward Sylvie. “That’s Sylvie Jones, and this”—she pointed to Georgia, who had just materialized—“is Georgia Shaw. These are the girls I was telling you about.”
Maggie set down a cup full of pens. “The Pips who won the bake-off? Of course! Congratulations. I guess we’ll be seeing you two tomorrow at the Commis Contest.”
Sylvie smiled and flipped through a pamphlet. “Thanks. We’re excited to participate.” She paused. “So, this is the club that was started by the first president of the CCS?”
“Yes,” said Maggie. “Although, now we like to think of ourselves as more of an organization than a club … with a defined purpose and specific goals.”
Sylvie resisted the urge to ask if one of SIFT’s goals was starting a rebellion. Instead, she came up with, “So, what made you want to bring SIFT to Brindille?”
“I visited their headquarters a few months ago,” said Maggie. “Aside from helping to empower Sages from all different backgrounds, SIFT is responsible for saving some of the ancient heirloom fruits and vegetables we use in everyday spells!Fat Horse pole beans, Belle de Boskoop apples, Golden Hubbard squash—”
“They get the picture,” said Flora, glancing apologetically at Sylvie and Georgia. “Maggie can talk your ear off about SIFT. It’s like me when someone mentions the Golden Whisk.”
“True,” said Maggie. “Anyway, when my parents took me to Paris, I told them we had to visit SIFT headquarters. So glad I did. Their seed catalogues were even more impressive than the macaron display at Ladurée.”
“Wait… . They’re based in Paris?” Sylvie asked.Where the Golden Whisk takes place?
Maggie nodded. “They said they were looking to open a new chapter at Brindille. I was excited to help.”
Now, Sylvie was sure she was right.Strange is going to expose Bass at the Golden Whisk. But how?He wasn’t just a wanted man; LeGrande had added extra security measures.
“You know, I heard August Strange is a SIFT member,” said Sylvie, trying to casually fish.
“He is.” Maggie’s chin jutted out. “But we have thousands of members. His connection to the organization doesn’t mean anything.”
“You know, my aunt knows Strange,” said Flora, dusting flour off the table. “Shesays he’s innocent. The CCS isn’t giving us all the facts—”
“Shut up, Flora!” Belinda shoved past Sylvie. “Strange is a liar. He’s perfect for your little club full of traitors and thieves.”
Sylvie stared at Belinda. Her hair fell around her shoulders, like bits of rope covered in slipknots.
Flora scowled at the hulking girl. “What do you want?”
“Just thought I’d keep an eye on things … see who’s signing up.” Belinda eyed Sylvie like a piece of gum she’d just discovered on the bottom of her shoe. “Too bad Pips can’t join. I’m sure Sylvie would’ve fit right in.”
Maggie glared. “Sounds like you’re here to harass students.”
Belinda pressed her thumb against her knuckles, cracking them like fat grapes.
“Sylvie isn’t arealstudent.”
“If you came here to insult people, then get lost,” Maggie spat back.
Belinda pointed to the golden pin on her coat and moved closer. “You have no authority to tell me where I belong, or what I should do. I know about your family. Their ranking pin is carnelian …friend of magic.”
Maggie suddenly looked as if she’d been kicked in the teeth.
Flora’s lips turned tight. “You shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”
