Georgia smiled. “You’re right!”
Sylvie spotted a group of kids with ice cream cones huddled next toMAGGIE’SSHRIEKINGSHERBETSHACK. “I bet Maggie will know where to find Belinda’s booth.”
Sylvie and Georgia wove their way through the line.
A boy with locs took a bite of his sherbet. His eyes bulged as he let out a series of noises. “CREEK! SCREECH! SCRRRREEK!”
Sylvie stuffed her fingers into her ears and kept moving. “Shrieking Sherbet may get a few laughs, but it’s murder on your ears.”
Georgia cupped her hands to the side of her head. “No kidding.”
There was Maggie, scooping colorful balls into sugar cones. She looked up. “Hey guys! Are you enjoying the Commis Contest?”
“Err … yeah.” Sylvie forced a smile. “Listen, have you seen Godard?”
Maggie paused. “Which one?”
Georgia raised a brow. “Huh?”
“Never mind,” said Maggie. “Last time I saw her, she was at Belinda’s booth, keeping an eye on things.”
I knew it!
“Where’s Belinda’s booth?” Sylvie asked.
Maggie doled a ball into a cone and dropped a candied cherry on top. “It’s right next to the foot of the school.”
“Thanks!” Sylvie spun around.
“Hey!” Maggie held up the cone. “Don’t you want to try my sherbet?”
“Maybe later,” called Georgia.
Music floated above the hum of giddy voices as they moved beyond the courtyard. Protective nets had been draped across the trees in the garden, like silky cloaks.
“It’s that one.” Sylvie pointed toward the tent flanking the main door.
The scent of toasty cheese wafted past as they moved closer. Sylvie eyed the sign dangling above the red-and-gold canopy.BELINDABASSGASTROMANCY. Sylvie craned her neck, trying to spot Godard. “See anything?”
“No,” said Georgia.
“Looking for someone?” said a voice.
Sylvie spun around, expecting to see the hefty form of Belinda. A row of old wooden puppets peered out.
“Who said that?” asked Georgia.
The puppet wearing a mink stole scuttled forward. “I did. I’m Hazel.”
Sylvie stared at the creature. With her swollen red nose and exaggerated smile, she looked like she’d stumbled out of a House of Horrors.
Hazel lifted up the voting box. “Put in your chocolate coins. I’ll feed the other dolls, and we’ll perform.”
Georgia tugged on Sylvie’s arm. “Come on. Godard isn’t here, and this is seriouslycreep-oh.”
Hazel stuck a bony finger into her pocket and pulled out what looked like a Parmesan crisp. “No. It’s FRI-CO.Montasio cheese, Parmesan, pink pepper,andlovage.The perfect recipe for bringing any doll to life. Now, give me your coins.”
“I’m not sure what’s worse,” whispered Georgia, “talking dolls or shrieking sherbet.”
