Chapter 4 Ladies Don’t Ride Skateboards
Ladies Don’t Ride Skateboards
INSIDE, THE FLOOR WAS FLECKED WITH STONES THAT REMINDED Sylvie of rock candy. Lights that looked like lava lamps lined the common room, puffing out fruity aromas.
Grape. Cherry. Sylvie tried to figure out what green smelled like. Fig?
“Pips are free to study and mingle here,” said Kitty, gesturing to several overstuffed couches that had been neatly arranged.
Sylvie eyed the two contraptions on the far wall … vending machines.
In one, a rainbow of fruit juices cascaded down, splashing like a waterfall into a metal trough lined with cups. Squeezed behind the glass of the other was a wild vine covered in vibrant topaz flowers.
“Are you hungry?” Kitty slipped her hand into the dispenser. “Instructor Gideon handles our foraging and farming classes. Her students planted these butterfly peas.”
The flowers on the vine began to flutter.
“I’m fine. Thank you,” said Sylvie, staring as the petals swooped down onto Kitty’s skin like a kaleidoscope.
Kitty pulled her hand out and popped a pea into her mouth. “They replace the produce three times a week. Should be planting dragon fruit tomorrow. Your room is this way.”
Sylvie stole a final glance at the flitting blooms and followed Kitty down a long corridor.
“The dorm has twelve rooms, two to each, allowing for a total of twenty-four potential students at a time,” said Kitty.
“Flora Jackson, one of Brindille’s star pupils, acts as mentor to the Pips.
You’ll meet her tomorrow at breakfast. Afterwards, she’ll escort you to the library, where you’ll learn more about the school and your classes. ”
Numbered doors lined the hallway. Between them, rice paper scrolls hung on the walls, flashing messages.
WELCOME PIPS!
ORIENTATION AND APRON MEASURING TOMORROW!
ONLY 42 DAYS LEFT UNTIL TESTING!
Sylvie stared at the sign. Forty-two days for everyone but me. She had one extra hurdle … finishing top in her class.
“So, Madame Godard dislikes the CCS’s new ranking system?” Sylvie blurted.
If Kitty was surprised by the question, she did a good job hiding it.
“At Brindille, we let a student’s performance speak for itself.
Judging someone by the color of the dot pinned to their uniform or their family history …
you might as well judge a meal by a picture rather than eating it.
That said, these obstacles often build character, especially when you’re not the only one facing them.
You and your new roommate will have a few things in common. ”
Before Sylvie could ask what, Kitty rapped a fist on the door with a brass number 8 stuck to it.
A cacophony of voices echoed out.
“I thought rooms housed two people,” said Sylvie.
“They do,” said Kitty. “But Georgia Shaw is already rather popular with the other Pips.”
The door swung open.
“Good evening, Miss Kitty.” A young girl with sapphire eyes, pouty lips, and glossy blonde hair stood on the other side.
“Good evening, Georgia.” Miss Kitty gestured toward Sylvie. “This is Sylvie Jones. She’ll be your new roommate.”
Two boys and a girl sat on the floor inside the room. The girl had a broad and pasty face. She stared knowingly at Sylvie before turning to the others.
“It’s her,” she whispered. “The one who—”
“Shh! Adara, she’ll hear you,” said the boy, who was as big as the giant crookneck squash in the garden.
Rise above it, Sylvie reminded herself, smiling politely.
“Nice to meet you.” Georgia looked Sylvie up and down.
Sylvie’s black jeggings, loose-fitted T-shirt, and denim jacket stood in stark contrast to Georgia’s rhinestone-studded cupcake earrings and stylish pastel sweater.
She pointed to the text on Sylvie’s shirt and smiled. “Killing It? Well, you’re certainly murdering fashion. But if you want, I can help with that.”
Sylvie forced a smile. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” But I’d rather eat a Reaper pepper than wear pastels. She kept this last bit to herself. Sylvie had no idea what Miss Kitty thought she and Georgia might have in common. It seemed clear that they were total opposites.
Georgia sucked in her lips. Sylvie got the feeling she was trying not to laugh.
The enormous boy stood up. His head nearly touched the ceiling, though something about the way he carried himself—shoulders curved in, head down—made him seem small. “I’m Shawn Parker … but everyone just calls me Big Shawn.” He held out a hand.
Sylvie put on a smile. “Nice to meet you. Cool watch, by the way.” She pointed to the contraption on his wrist, flashing notes instead of numbers. brAVO! YOU’RE ON TIME.
“Oh … thanks. It’s a FizzleFott’s fondant watch.” Shawn’s face drooped. “My parents got it for my brother.”
Sylvie got the feeling her compliment hadn’t gone over well.
“How is your brother doing?” Kitty asked.
Shawn shrugged. “I guess he’s fine… . My dad sent him off to a trade school. Said there was no sense keeping him home since he failed the test and can’t take over the family business.”
Sylvie silently scolded herself. She’d tried breaking the ice, but instead she’d kicked a hornet’s nest.
“Now, it’s all up to me,” said Shawn. “I just wish I knew what went wrong with Sam’s recipe, why he failed. Maybe then I’d have a better shot?”
Kitty gave Shawn’s arm a pat. “The test has two jobs. One, reveal if you have the talent to become a Sage. Two, prevent cheating by erasing any memory of the process. So, instead of worrying about what happened to your brother, I’d study hard. A strong foundation is the key to success.”
“I agree.” Georgia gestured toward a sheet pan lined with buttercream rosettes. “I brought some pastry bags and frosting from home. We were just practicing piping skills.”
Adara scowled. “But who knows if that’s even part of the test.”
“One way or another, all knowledge is useful,” said Miss Kitty. “Well done, Georgia.”
Georgia smiled sweetly. “Like the school motto says, we’re all stronger when we work together.”
Sylvie glanced nervously at the sheet pan. Maybe I should’ve brought some frosting too.
“Well, I’m sure Sylvie will want to get settled in.” Kitty stepped past Georgia and removed the sheet pan from the empty bed. “The rest of you best head back to your rooms.”
One by one, the others shuffled out.
Sylvie tossed her backpack onto the bed.
A stack of beauty magazines was piled next to Georgia’s dresser. Sylvie eyed the girl on the top cover, with perfectly coiffed hair and polished nails. She would’ve been Georgia’s perfect roommate.
“I’ll let you two get acquainted.” Kitty gave Sylvie’s bag another suspicious glance. “Remember what I said about letting rules slip your mind. Tread carefully.”
Sylvie had bigger worries. Why does the Apple of Discord have my name on it? Who was the man in the diner? Suddenly, her life was like a scattered puzzle, where none of the pieces seemed to fit.
Sylvie tried her best to look serious. “Of course, Miss Kitty.”
With that, Kitty gave a satisfied nod and left.
Georgia toyed with a lock of hair. “What was that about? I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree if you’re already breaking rules.”
Anger bubbled up. Sylvie did her best to ignore the comment. “It was nothing.”
Georgia shrugged and examined a nail. “Suit yourself. But if you want my opinion—”
Not really.
“You’ll do better with the instructors if you kill them with kindness.”
That’s what I’ve been trying to do. Sylvie dumped her things onto the bed.
She hadn’t bothered to pack much. A toothbrush, a few shirts, jeans, and the skateboard her parents had given her for her fourteenth birthday. Thirty-two-inch maplewood board with a double-kick surface.
Georgia gawked at the skateboard. “This is a magic cooking school. What are you going to do with that? I would’ve thought a pair of oven mitts would’ve been more useful.”
“Skating helps me relax,” said Sylvie. She’d imagined gliding around Brindille’s paths between classes.
“My mama says ladies don’t ride skateboards,” continued Georgia. She gestured to Sylvie’s hand. “Is that how you got that scar?”
Georgia was like a pubescent rottweiler, hiding behind a mask of glossy lipstick and soft curls.
Sylvie crossed her arms. “Think you’re being funny?”
“No.” Georgia looked surprised.
Sylvie wasn’t buying it. “Your friends were gossiping about me just a minute ago. Now, you expect me to believe you don’t know what happened to my hand?”
Georgia’s eyes narrowed into sapphire slits. “Believe what you want. I know the CCS put you on probation, ’cause of your mom being a cheat. But that’s it.”
Sylvie glared back. “For someone starting the preparatory program, you sure seem to think you have all the answers. My mom didn’t cheat! So why don’t you go back to playing with your makeup and piping bags.” It wasn’t a very good comeback, but it seemed to do the trick.
“Now who thinks they know it all?” Georgia snatched one of the magazines from the stack and flung herself onto her bed. “Apparently I should be reading up on avocado facials and berry lip stains.”
“I didn’t say that,” Sylvie started.
“You kind of did.” Georgia kept her nose buried as she slapped another page down.
Sylvie’s mom had warned her about letting other people’s opinions get the better of her. Now it was too late.
“Just forget it,” said Sylvie. She stuffed the snickerdoodles from her mom into her pocket and headed for the door.
“Suit yourself,” Georgia shot back. “But no one is allowed outside after dark. Hopefully you’ll get busted. Then I’ll have the room to myself!”
Sylvie ignored the comment and headed down the hallway.
She took a seat on the floor next to the vending machines and gazed at the butterfly peas, resting peacefully on the vines.
That’s what she should’ve been doing. Relaxing.
Instead, she’d been here less than an hour and already had gotten into a fight.
Georgia’s words had been no worse than what she’d expected, and yet, they stung.
Sylvie pulled a snickerdoodle out of her pocket. Once she had her Blade, maybe they’d realize they were wrong. I deserve to be here.
The first step toward proving that would come tomorrow at orientation.