Georgia looked befuddled.
Sylvie was trying to make sense of the insult too. She knew the termfriend of magic.It was the lowest tier of Bass’s ranking system.But since when does someone get upset when you call them a friend?
Belinda’s meaty hand suddenly yanked on Sylvie’s backpack, pulling her up. “You girls think you’re hot stuff? You’re nothing.”
Sylvie’s feet kicked at the air.
“Put her down,” cried Georgia.
“Stay out of this,” snapped Belinda. “Unless you want to take another bath in the soda fountain.”
Sylvie tried to contemplate the comment’s meaning, but it was hard to focus when she was dangling in the air like a marionette.
Flora jumped across the table. “You better listen to Georgia and put Sylvie down … or else.”
“Or else, what?” A lopsided grin pulled at Belinda’s thin lips. “Y’all got your shiny mentor badges, but don’t let ’em fool you. There’s no real power left in this school.”
“Let me go!” Sylvie squirmed.
Flora smiled. “I guess we’ll find out if that’s true tomorrow … when Godard andthe other studentsdeclare the Commis Contest winner!”
A thick crease formed between Belinda’s brows. “We’ll see about that.”
Maggie folded her arms across her chest. “What’s wrong? Worried you might not win now that Godard has stopped your dad from rigging the contest?”
“My pa won’t let Godard get away with this.” Belinda’s cheeks puffed. Her face turned red.
Sylvie’s foot finally collided with Belinda’s stomach.
Belinda grabbed her belly.Ouch!
The next thing Sylvie knew, her face hit cold marble. She stared at the pair of red cowboy boots near her nose. The taste of blood filled her mouth.
“Belinda Bass!” Agnes popped out of the kitchen, draped in an apron caked with egg yolk. She hurried over, a platter of madeleines clutched in her hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Belinda’s lips curled. “She fell.”
“Yeah right!” Flora started.
“I’ll handle this,” said Agnes. “I am aware that she fell. I could see her flailing before she hit the ground.”
Sylvie wiped blood onto the back of her hand as Belinda glared at her.
“I may not be an instructor at this school,” continued Agnes, “but I can recognize right from wrong. That was no accident. So, I suggest you apologize to Sylvie… . Unless you prefer I tell Godard and let her handle it?” Agnes raised a brow as she waited for Belinda’s response.
Belinda tugged at her wrinkled chef’s coat. “Sorry.”
“Very good. Now, I suggest you get some lunch and avoid the SIFT booth for the rest of the afternoon. Understood?”
Belinda’s knuckles turned white. “Fine… . Your stupid club will get shut down soon enough.” With that, she spun around and marched off.
“Are you all right, Sylvie?” asked Agnes.
“Yeah.” Sylvie picked up her backpack and stared after the girl. “But I think I just got on her bad side.”
“It appears so,” said Agnes, bending down to inspect Sylvie’s lip. “I know Belinda is unbearable, but you ladies shouldn’t let her get under your skin.”
“She would’ve gotten under your skin, too, if you’d heard what she said,” huffed Flora.
