Chapter 10 Time for Plan B
Time for Plan B
BEFORE SNEAKING OUT, SYLVIE WAITED UNTIL THE SCHOOL WAS dark and the full moon was hanging like a lantern in the sky.
She tiptoed past rows of chocolate vines and fiddlehead ferns. These weren’t just ingredients in spells. They were obstacles, designed to protect the school. Luckily, Sylvie had come prepared.
The seashell-shaped tops of the fiddleheads unfurled. Broad leaves swayed back and forth as the hum of violin strings filled the air.
Sylvie whipped around. She had to silence the concerto before it alerted the ghost peppers patrolling the garden.
She pulled off her watch.
She’d read about the noisy ferns in the book The Giddy Garden.
They hate dry soil and direct light.
Sylvie tapped the face on her watch, lighting it up. The glow danced across the fronds. The leaves gave a shudder.
Gotcha! Sylvie moved closer. One by one, the blades shrunk back into tight curls. The garden grew quiet. Sylvie trudged forward, watch raised.
An archway of branches twisted overhead. Glossy globes dangled from the boughs. Apples. A sugary perfume drifted through the air. Sylvie tried to ignore the alluring smell.
Flora had cautioned her about picking apples from the orchard. It was full of Northern Spy and Black Diamond varieties. Each was laced with buttery caramel, an irresistible combination. The aroma was designed to entice people into eating them, only to bewitch those who did.
Sylvie ducked past a gnarled trunk. Sticky sugar slid down the bark like droplets of sap. Her mouth salivated. She fought against the urge to steal a lick. Tuna salad left in the sun. Rubbery macaroni.
She could see the edge of the grove moving closer.
Soggy pizza.
She had to ignore the magic. If she failed, she’d be stuck here, gorging on caramel apples until dawn.
Almost there!
A few pinpricks of light danced beyond the grove. Just a little farther. Then she’d reach the school steps. She had to get to the note tonight, before anyone else found it.
Sylvie pushed past the final trees. The scent of wet dirt now tickled her nose.
Ahh …
Orbs of light floated over the snoring Corinthian staircase. Sylvie inched closer and pulled out the chocolate peppermints.
“Here you go, little guys.” She tossed another peppermint onto the ground. “Enjoy!”
As if on cue, the bottom step let out a growl. Its center drooped toward the earth, giving the morsels a sniff. An asphalt tongue, rough and mottled, lapped it up.
Sylvie eyed the stones, wondering what they were made of. Chocolate like Gideon’s table? Or maybe kaolin and lactose powder?
Grrr!
Teeth, sharp as spear points, snapped at Sylvie’s ankles.
Too much of a bite to be chocolate, thought Sylvie, resisting the urge to swat at the step and yell, Bad dog!
The rest of the staircase shuddered to life.
Snaps and snarls reverberated, shaking the ground beneath her. Sylvie quickly hopped down. She’d been afraid of this … they’ve added extra security measures. After everything she’d heard today, this was no surprise. Time for Plan B.
Whoosh!
Something flew past her head. Sylvie whipped around. Crimson pods with shriveled skin floated overhead. Ghost peppers!
Sylvie flung an arm over her nose. Thanks to Flora’s conversation with Adara, she knew how to handle the ghost peppers. She yanked the allium goggles out of her pocket and slid them on.
Pop!
A fiery burst erupted. Heat blasted Sylvie’s face. She gasped and sputtered. Her eyes were fine, but her nose and throat were burning.
Sylvie blotted her face. She had to get out of here, fast. Peppers only patrol the garden… . So, best way to escape is into the school.
Sylvie eyed the steps, lining the path to the door, teeth bared like hungry piranhas. It wouldn’t be easy to cross them. Then again, she hadn’t come this far to turn tail and run. Besides, the spice clouds were causing the staircase some discomfort too.
Gravelly coughs interrupted growls. Wheezing punctuated snarls.
An ollie! It was a jumping technique skaters used to leap into the air and over obstacles. Of course, obstacles didn’t normally have an appetite to kill. Still, this was her best chance.
More peppers raced toward Sylvie, erupting in spicy bursts. It was now or never. She had to get the note. Sylvie crouched down, putting most of her weight on the ball of her back foot.
Whoosh!
She leapt up, pulling her knees toward her chest.
Sylvie landed on a snapping stone. It flinched in surprise. She tossed her final peppermint at it and charged up. Rock slapped against the soles of her feet as she pounded toward the doors.
One. Two. Three.
Sylvie leapt up.
Only a few more steps.
Spicy fumes whipped through the air. Sylvie fought against the tickle rising in her throat. Her goggles fogged from the heat. She tried to wipe them, but everything was happening too fast.
Whack!
Pain surged up her shin as she collided with the final step. Warm blood trickled down her leg. The final step’s jaws opened wide.
“Sorry. But I’m not ready to be a chew toy.” Sylvie scrambled up, the tip of her shoe pressed against the stone’s lips. Its mouth snapped shut. Sylvie didn’t bother contemplating why. She tucked her head and somersaulted over it, landing near the doors.
Silence wrapped around Sylvie as she stepped into the school. The door clicked shut behind her. Even the pain of her bleeding leg couldn’t spoil her mood. I made it!
Sylvie pulled off the goggles and tapped the face of her watch again. The ghostly image of August Strange was still floating across the wanted posters on the hallway scrolls. The chocolate birds in the cage opened their eyes.
Squawk!
“Shh! I’ve got a treat for you too.” Sylvie yanked the roll from dinner out of her pocket and shoved pieces into the cage. The two birds fluttered down and quietly pecked.
Except for the gash on her leg, everything was going according to plan.
Sylvie stepped carefully over the leaves scattered next to the blown sugar tree and headed down the hallway. A rustling from inside one of the classrooms made her freeze. Someone’s here.
Sylvie crouched down low, heart thumping. If they stepped out and found her, she was doomed. Carefully, she crawled on all fours past the classroom door, then paused. Cupboards and drawers were opening and closing.
Someone is searching for something. What if it’s the spy? Part of Sylvie wanted to push on, get to the book. But she couldn’t. Not until I know who’s in there and why.
Slowly, Sylvie peered through the window. A shadow was hunched over the teacher’s desk, picking up bags of glowing jack-o’-lantern mushrooms and dried milkweed. Sylvie pressed her nose against the glass … magical ingredients.
Fuzzy contours turned sharp as the shadow lifted the bag of glowing mushrooms. Sylvie spotted a pair of slender hands and arms draped in silky blue pajamas. The bag floated higher, illuminating the hazy face. Before Sylvie could stop herself, she let out a gasp. Flora!
Sylvie threw a hand over her mouth and quickly ducked down. Footsteps moved toward the door. There was no time to think. Sylvie spider-crawled down the hallway, turned the corner, and broke into a run.
Beams of moonlight spread across the Long Hall as Sylvie raced deeper into the library and hid behind the ivory bust of FINNEAS FIZZLEFOTT, FOUNDER OF FIZZLEFOTT’S CANDY COMPANY. She tried to catch her breath.
Panting, Sylvie peered around the corner. From the scroll, August looked down at her, his eyes burning bright as the sun. She shot him an unslaked look. Wherever you are, I hope you’re having better luck than me.
The sound of footsteps died down. Slowly, Sylvie crawled out of the hiding spot.
Other than August’s looming picture, the place was deserted.
Good. Flora is gone. But what was she doing?
Is she the spy? She can’t be, Sylvie told herself.
Kitty said it has to be someone who works here.
But somehow that didn’t feel reassuring.
Everything had happened so quickly, but Sylvie saw the pile of dried herbs and glowing fungi.
Now, she couldn’t help but think back to the criollo chocolate smudged on Flora’s coat.
A special order … from Godard. Was that the truth?
Or is she stealing magical ingredients? Sylvie wished she knew the answer.
But now, there was something more pressing.
Sylvie crouched down and headed on all fours toward Ms. Honeycut’s desk. A cockroach skittered out from underneath a table and ran across her hand. Sylvie swallowed her scream. Eww! Even the burn of the ghost peppers was better than this.
Sylvie gave her hand a shake and pushed the scuttling sounds from her mind. There was the bin, sitting next to Ms. Honeycut’s desk. Please be there. Please! She pulled herself up and clambered over the counter.
Sylvie tapped her watch, adjusting the display to full brightness, and started digging. There were so many books: Cooking for Gold: How to Win Big at the Golden Whisk by Fernand LeGrande; The Art of Sugarcraft by Ewald Zotter; Sauces & Super Spells: A Simple Guide by Circe Coulis.
Sylvie stretched her leg. It was becoming stiff and throbby now.
Ignore it! There are more important things.
She kept rifling through the bin. There was another book by Fernand LeGrande.
Lemons into Lemonade: Turning the Golden Whisk into the World’s Greatest Culinary Competition.
A familiar cover caught her eye. Yes! Le Guide Culinaire.
She pulled it from the stack and peered between the binding and the spine.
Still there. Carefully, Sylvie pulled out the plating tongs and slid them into the book’s spine.
Deeper and deeper. Finally, she felt them press against the folded paper.