“Andthat’sChastity,” Sadie explained with a grin.
“Starving is a bit of an exaggeration,” Sydney offered, amused. “I did get something to eat last night.”
Chastity beamed at her. “What did you have?”
“Pizza.”
An immediate chorus of approval went up around the table.
“Okay, that’s a good start to your holiday,” said a sweet brunette girl seated next to Chloe. “I’m Megan. I’m just visiting for the day; we live over on the Ridge. My Daddy is teaching an art class later. But it’ssupernice to meet you, and wehaveto get you some real American food before you leave.”
“Ranch dressing,” Chloe said firmly, eyes wide. “I heard somewhere you don’t have it in South Africa. Please save the day and tell me you’ve had some.”
Sydney wrinkled her nose slightly. “Nope.”
The table fell silent.
Nat dropped her spoon. Megan covered her mouth. A small boy in a dinosaur onesie who’d been quietly coloring until that moment, looked up like she’d just confessed to never breathing air.
“You’veneverhad ranch dressing?” Chloe whispered cautiously.
“You poor, sweet,shelteredangel,” Chastity said, reaching out like she might actually cry. “Someone get the ranch. Stat.”
Sadie was laughing so hard she nearly fell off her seat. “You’re all being silly. Sydney can’t have ranch with her pancakes! Ranch is foreverythingbut pancakes. Like pretzels, chicken nuggies, carrot sticks, french fries?—”
“—pizza,” Chloe added. “Try it on pizza. It will change your life.”
Sydney covered her face with her hands, cheeks burning but her smile was wide. “You lot arenuts!”
“And your accent isdivine,” Megan giggled.
“Told you so,” Sadie sing-songed to Sydney before nudging her with her elbow. “Now, do you want to tell me why the big bad Master Levi and his very sexy boyfriend Roland are eyeing you like they want to have you for breakfast?”
Chapter Seven
Sydney
Sydney successfully avoided Sadie’s question and focused on her breakfast. Her plate was nearly empty, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d eaten.
They’d called them pancakes, but these weren’t the pancakes she was used to. Back home pancakes were thin, big, and covered withloadsof cinnamon sugar and a drizzle of lemon juice. Not these fluffy, towering stacks slathered in butter and drizzled in maple syrup.
“How are your pancakes?” Sadie asked.
“These aren’t pancakes,” Sydney muttered with a bemused expression.
“They’reAmericanpancakes,” Megan replied with a giggle.
Sydney corrected her with a small shake of her head, “No,theseare flapjacks.”
The entire table erupted in laughter again.
Chastity nearly spat juice across the table. “Oh no, no, no, honey. That’s adorable. But thesearewithout a doubt pancakes. What evenisa flapjack?”
Sydney waved at the plate in front of her with a huge smile on her face. “These are.”
“Well, I don’t know what Jack ever did to South Africans to cause them to want to make him all flappy, but we’ll just stick to calling them pancakes, shall we?” Sadie teased.
Despite the mild roasting, Sydney found herself giggling again. She hadn’t even noticed how much lighter she felt until the plate was cleared and her stomach was full and warm. Until, of course, Master Derek appeared.
