Chapter 5 The Daily Leek #2
Kids started crowding around the table, bumping and jostling like a school of fish, eager to grab a morsel. Sylvie spotted the boy who’d burped in her face muscling in for a look.
Georgia leaned forward, eyes reflecting like diamonds. “You rat me out, and you really will be like your mom … a traitor.”
Someone in the crowd let out a low whistle.
Sylvie hated being called a traitor, but more than that, she hated when people called her mom one.
“Are you always such a brat?” Sylvie squared off.
“This is getting good,” someone whispered.
“No,” said Georgia coldly. “I guess you just bring out the best in me.”
The mob moved closer.
“Ouch!”
Sylvie felt an elbow in her back as someone lost their footing.
She flew forward, her hands slamming against Georgia’s half-eaten donut, as she tried to catch herself. Slicks of concentration cream shot out, striking Georgia’s blouse. Holes, like moth bites, rippled up on the fabric.
Georgia gasped. “Y-you’ve ruined my top.”
Before Sylvie could say anything, Georgia tackled her.
Argh!
Food went flying as they tumbled to the ground.
Georgia had more strength than Sylvie expected. Like a mad cat charging out of the bath, nails clawed, legs twisted in the air.
“Fight! Fight!” the horde chanted.
Sylvie pried Georgia’s hands away. “Maybe you thought a pretty outfit would cover up your personality. But no matter how you dress, it’s still ugly.”
“Sylvie Jones and Georgia Shaw!” Kitty pulled them apart. “Never in all my years have I seen such appalling behavior.”
Even though Sylvie was in trouble, she couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself. She’d found Georgia’s weak spot. The look on her face said it all—Sylvie’s words had stung.
Kitty adjusted the Rocket Pet carrier strapped to her back.
Two familiar, fuzzy faces peered out from an oval window as Kitty fixed her gaze on the girls.
It was a stare that had clearly been perfected through years of dealing with squabbling kids.
“Someone could’ve been seriously injured.
It’s a good thing I was coming to fetch you kids to introduce you to Flora. ”
Kitty gestured toward a girl standing next to her.
A badge with the word MENTOR was pinned to her perfectly pressed chef’s coat.
She brushed an ebony lock of hair off her cheek.
Her skin was as smooth and dark as a black pearl.
She was quite pretty, despite the look of disgust now distorting her features.
Flora shook her head. “That was like watching donkeys fighting over a turnip.”
One of the cats inside the carrier seemed to meow in agreement.
“Now, explain yourselves,” said Kitty. “Who would like to go first?”
Georgia grabbed a napkin, blotting at the holes. “Sylvie threw concentration cream all over my shirt.”
“No, I didn’t,” said Sylvie. “I mean, I didn’t throw anything. I fell and landed on her donut.”
Georgia paused, the napkin still in hand. “She was trying to prove a point.”
“Oh yeah? What was it?” Sylvie eyed the silk and lace on Georgia’s shirt. “That you shouldn’t wear designer clothes to a cooking school?”
“My shirt isn’t designer, and it’s not about fashion.” Georgia side-eyed her. “It was a gift from my dad.”
The remark caught Sylvie off guard. “I-it really was an accident.”
Kids were now staring at Sylvie as if she’d poisoned the family pet.
Kitty pressed her hands against her hips. “Regardless of your intentions, fighting is against school rules, as I’m sure you are both aware. Detention. Expulsion. These are the punishments you two could be facing!”
Georgia looked like she was ready to cry.
Sylvie couldn’t help but wonder if she was faking it.
She glanced down at Georgia’s bag, where the phone was hidden.
If Kitty found out Georgia was using a phone, it might be enough to get rid of her.
But Sylvie wasn’t a rat, and Georgia seemed to realize it.
She’d called her bluff when Sylvie had threatened to tell Godard.
Plus, Georgia now had something she needed.
“I … tripped.” Sylvie pointed to her loose shoelace. “That’s when I landed on Georgia’s donut. I tried to wipe the cream off, but my watch got tangled in Georgia’s hair. It may have looked like we were fighting, but really, we were just trying to get loose.”
Flora let out a doubtful snort.
Kitty raised a brow. “Georgia, is this true?”
“Umm … yes.” Georgia smiled sweetly. “I think it was all … a misunderstanding.”
Sylvie took a deep breath. She knew never to tell a lie that could easily be fact-checked. Luckily, Georgia was playing along.
Kitty looked around. “Does anyone here wish to tell me what really happened?”
Adara sucked in her lips. Big Shawn stared at his feet.
“I see.” Kitty shook her head. “Well, in that case, I suppose I have no choice but to take you two at your word.” She turned to Sylvie. “Your nine lives might have saved you today, but I expect more from you if you’re going to survive this program.”
Sylvie opened her mouth.
“Save the excuses. Now, I suggest you get yourself another bowl of porridge. Once you’re done eating breakfast and contemplating your future, Flora will take you to orientation.”
“Great.” Sylvie tucked her shirt into her pants and tried to make herself look more presentable. “Brindille’s library houses over one hundred thousand books. It’s one of the world’s largest cookbook collections. I’m looking forward to finally seeing it in person.”
Flora raised a brow. “Right. Well, I’ll come back in a bit,” she said stiffly.
Sylvie deflated. She really needed to make a good impression, but Flora was understandably unimpressed.
Like donkeys fighting over a turnip. Sylvie headed back toward the buffet.
“Not so fast.” Kitty reeled her in. “You and Georgia need to learn to work as a team. Therefore, you’ll be on cleanup duty every day after Pip class until I’m satisfied that there’s been an improvement in your behavior.”
“You can’t be serious,” Georgia wailed. “But—”
Kitty held up a hand. “I expect you two to take this seriously. Remember the school motto? We are stronger when we work together.”
Georgia just nodded. She looked like she was going to cry for real this time.
“Yes,” said Sylvie.
“Good.” Kitty slid the carrier off her back and pulled a bottle of Mayhem Managing Serum out of a side pocket.
Secret and Sauce peered out. One of them gave Sylvie a disapproving hiss.
It really wasn’t my fault, Sylvie wanted to say. Maybe she’d try to pick some catnip in the garden, smooth things over with them?
Kitty sprinkled the serum onto the ground. Sylvie’s broken bowl and the plates of overturned eggs vanished. She gave a satisfied nod. “You two may return to breakfast.”
Sylvie fell a few paces behind Georgia as she sulked back over to the buffet line.
“It’s not right,” said Georgia. “Why am I being punished too?”
Sylvie decided not to respond. The last thing she needed was for Kitty to find them fighting, again. She’ll probably want us to hold hands and brush each other’s hair.
Sylvie ducked past Georgia and headed toward the double doors at the back of the cafeteria.
If her hunch was right, behind them was the cafeteria’s kitchen.
She’d noticed trays floating out, loaded with mugs of hot chocolate and flaky croissants, with layers stacked like pages in a book.
Sylvie needed a quiet spot to regroup before heading to the library, where she had to make a good impression.
She let the double doors close, shutting out the whispers and curious stares.
Inside, clouds of flour hovered overhead.
A spoon in a mixing bowl seemed to be stirring itself.
On a nearby workbench, piping bags oozed chocolate, and rings of freshly cut butter floated over a cutting board.
The whole place sparkled with the essence of magic.
Sylvie didn’t want to spend the next six weeks here; she wanted to spend the next four years. I have to get my Blade.
“Hello?” She carefully made her way past a stack of copper baking molds, teetering like a tower of Jenga blocks.
A voice with a heavy French accent floated toward her. “Come in. Come in.”
Sylvie moved toward the bodiless voice and froze.
Resting on a sheet pan were several bits of what looked like chopped filigree and a beautiful Blade.
The steel was thin and sparkled brilliantly, as if it were made of crushed diamonds.
The handle was equally peculiar, pearl and onyx, twisted together like a tight spider’s web.
Sylvie stretched out a hand, wanting to touch it, but knew she shouldn’t.
Dark smudges that looked like fingerprints were charred into the curves of the grip.
There was something different about it. She moved closer.
“Careful,” said the same voice. “You should never touch another chef’s knife.”