Chapter 10 Time for Plan B #2
It was funny. Tongs were an essential tool for plating precision. They were used by chefs for twisting spaghetti into dainty nests and positioning delicate tuiles on desserts. But Sylvie was willing to bet this was the first time they’d been used to extract secrets from an ancient cookbook.
She adjusted the tongs, pinched them closed, and slowly pulled up. Sylvie could see it now: a yellow piece of paper flecked with gold. It slid out like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis.
Sylvie turned the paper over. It’s official CCS letterhead. Sylvie recognized it from the letter she’d received. She placed the book back into the bin.
“Ahem!”
Sylvie pulled her hands out and spun around.
Standing in front of her was a squat man wearing an enormously tall toque. He had a stubby gray moustache and sagging jowls like a basset hound. The words CHEF JAKE, INSTRUCTOR were stitched onto the breast pocket of his heavily starched chef’s coat.
He stared at her through his round glasses. “Who … are … you?”
Sylvie’s hands turned clammy as Jake moved closer. “My name is Sylvie Jones.”
“Ahh … the infamous Pip.” He smelled of yeast and Parmesan. It would’ve been inviting if it weren’t for the look he was giving Sylvie. It reminded her of stale bread, hard and sour. “No one is allowed in here after hours.”
“I know. S-sorry about that.” Sylvie looked around, trying to come up with something. Finally, she had the note. She hadn’t come this far only to hand away its secrets. Besides, there was a chance Jake was the CCS mole. Maybe she could squeeze past and make a run for it?
He moved to the side, blocking Sylvie’s escape. “A student reported hearing footsteps in the school. She said they were heading toward the library. So, Godard sent me to inspect.”
Sylvie was certain she knew who the mystery student was. Flora. In retrospect, it was a smart move. Tell the headmistress you heard noises to cover your own tracks and trap the other person.
“You have five seconds to tell me what you’re doing,” said Chef Jake. “Then, I pull out the new measures in place … much nastier than the ghost peppers in the garden.”
For a moment, Sylvie still thought about charging past. But Chef Jake looked like the sort of teacher that would turn you into a toad for breaking the rules.
She clenched the note tightly behind her back.
There was only one thing left to do. Sylvie took a deep breath and let her hands fall to her sides.
Her best bet now was to tell the truth …
or at least some plausible version of it.
“I … I’m sorry.” Sylvie thrust out the book in her hands. Everything had happened so quickly she wasn’t even sure which one she’d managed to grab.
Jake read the title. “Sauces & Super Spells: A Simple Guide. What are you doing with this?”
“I … umm …” Sylvie fumbled with her words as she tried to figure out what to say.
She caught sight of the wanted poster. “I was just trying to protect the school… . Everyone is talking about what happened today, with that guy August Strange. Some of the kids think he’s coming here.
So I thought I could help trap him with a saucy spell.
I’m sure that would impress the CCS even more than me finishing first in my Pip class. ”
“You broke in here to try and cook up a spell because of … August Strange?” Jake’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her suspiciously.
Sylvie swallowed hard. “I know. It was stupid, but I was just trying to help.” She pretended to pull out a wedgie, as she pushed the folded paper deeper into her back pocket. “Sorry … undies riding up.”
Chef Jake averted his eyes. “Ahem … yes. Well, that wouldn’t happen if you were in bed instead of snooping in the library.”
“Am I going to get in trouble for this?” asked Sylvie.
“That’s up to Godard, but you’ll have bigger troubles if you don’t take care of that wound.” He pointed to the bloody gash.
Sylvie had been so focused on the note, she’d nearly forgotten about the pain in her leg. But now, it was coming back with a white-hot vengeance.
Blackened bits of blood congealed around flesh that was slashed and swollen.
“I’ll escort you to Madame Lopez. She specializes in restorative recipes. A broth of epazote should hopefully do the trick.”
Sylvie nodded obediently and followed. She could feel the paper pressing against her, urging her on as she walked. Soon you will know.
Several hours later, Sylvie was finally back in her dorm room. She pulled off the shredded remains of her jeans and inspected her leg. The gash was gone. Madame Lopez’s epazote broth really did the trick.
Sylvie pulled the paper out of her pants pocket. Georgia gave a snort in her sleep and rolled over. Sylvie didn’t want to risk waking her. She slipped into bed, pulled the covers over her head, and turned on her watch’s light.
Finally, she unfolded the piece of paper. A message had been scribbled at the top.
Give this to Godard the morning of the Golden Whisk competition.
Sylvie fished out the napkin from the diner. She was no expert, but the handwriting seemed to match.
Her eyes roamed farther down. The word Confidential was stamped in bold. Sylvie continued reading.
Dear Mr. Fernsby,
Thank you for the update regarding the Apple of Discord.
I have seen it in person and have a plan.
I’m dealing with Sylvie Jones, and her mother.
Once Sylvie fails to get her Blade, she’ll be permanently out of the way.
Then, I’ll destroy the tree, and no one will ever know.
With that in mind, please burn this letter once you’ve read it.
Sylvie’s eyes settled on the signature at the bottom.
In good taste,
Jack Bass, Your Newly Anointed CCS President
(Certified Pitmaster, Big Bend Cook-Off Champion, Grand Bailli, Founder of The Society for Culinary Preservation and Purity)
Sylvie’s heart stopped pounding and turned to stone.
This is all because of me … and it goes to the very top.
Suddenly everything made sense. Her mom being forced to win All-Stars if she wanted to keep cooking up magic, Sylvie having to finish first in her prep class …
They’re not opportunities for redemption.
They’re traps. Anger and fear welled up in equal measures.
Sylvie’s stomach curdled. Bass is messing with my family … my life!
Sylvie clutched the letter tightly. There has to be a way to stop him.
And Sylvie couldn’t help but wonder, Is that what August plans to do?
More questions rolled through her mind. How did he get this letter?
Where is he now? There was no way Bass could risk this getting out.
Anyone who knew the truth was in danger … including Sylvie.