Chapter 15 Stuck in the Same Food Truck #2
Sylvie took a step back. “What do you mean usually don’t?”
“Actually, forget I said that,” replied Georgia. She rolled up her sleeves and burrowed deeper into the vent.
You realize we’re in a magic cooking school, where practically anything is possible,” said Sylvie. “So how are you so sure it’s a frog?”
Georgia glanced over. “If I tell you the truth, you better not laugh.”
“Promise,” said Sylvie.
“When I was younger, Dad and I used to go herping every weekend.”
“Her-what?”
“You know, hunting for amphibians and reptiles?”
“Wait. You hunt reptiles?”
“Not anymore.” Georgia cupped her hands over her mouth and stuck her head back into the vent. “Crreeeek! Crreeeek!”
Sylvie bit her lip, trying not to laugh. This was a side of Georgia that would’ve been impossible to imagine.
Georgia turned, one eye on Sylvie. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Sylvie raised her hands. “It’s just … you told me skateboarding wasn’t ladylike, but herping is?”
“Like I said, I don’t do it anymore. But I’m sorry about what I said to you. It wasn’t nice.” Georgia fished around. “Come on, little guy. I’m here to help.”
“I think I’ve finally figured you out, Georgia Shaw. Or at least, what sort of pastry you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you ask me, everyone resembles a dessert in some way,” said Sylvie. “You’d be a princess cake. Pretty pastels on the outside, but cut it open, there are all sorts of layers you never expected.”
Georgia smiled as she squeezed her arms deeper into the vent. “I guess that’s why they say never judge a book by its cover… . It seems like we both made that mistake.”
The singsong of another high chirp rose into the air. Sylvie was no expert, but this one sounded less panicked.
Georgia continued to grope. “I think he needs some extra motivation to trust us.”
“What do you have in mind?” Sylvie asked.
Georgia pointed to the ball of trussing string on Boris’s desk. “Cut me off a bit of that, would you?”
Sylvie snipped an arm’s length of string and handed it to Georgia. Georgia twisted a small loop onto one end, creating a sailor’s knot.
“What are we doing, lassoing it?” asked Sylvie, only half-joking. At this point, Georgia was so full of surprises, anything seemed possible.
Georgia fished around in her pocket, pulling out a rainbow tube of … Mentos?
Lassoing had seemed silly enough, but this? Sylvie stared as Georgia looped a pale orange sphere into the sailor’s knot. “How is candy going to help us catch a frog?”
“Dad always packed sandwiches and a bag of candy for our herping trips. That’s how we accidentally discovered that frogs have a sweet tooth. Red gummy bears are their favorite, but fruity Mentos are mine. So, they learned to make do.”
“Seriously?”
Georgia nodded.
As a candy connoisseur herself, Sylvie understood the attraction. The crunch layer of sugar and chewy fruity center is delicious.
Georgia tossed the Mento end of the string deep into the vent. “They tend to like the orange ones best.”
“I get it,” said Sylvie, “that sweet-and-sour citrus tang.”
“Exactly!” Georgia cupped her hands back over her mouth and chirped. A noise like a bow pulling on violin strings echoed out. Sylvie thought she heard the thump of feet moving closer. The cord gave a wriggle.
Georgia slowly reached into the vent. “Gotcha!” A broad-faced frog squirmed in her hands, the Mento clasped tightly between its lips.
Sylvie did a double take. “It actually worked!”
“Told ya!” Georgia shoved the roll back into her pocket and gave it a pat. “Yet another reason to always keep a supply of candy in your pocket.”
Sylvie stroked the chirping frog. “And here I thought Mentos were only good for making soda geysers.”
Georgia laughed. “Mentos and a bottle of Coke definitely feels like magic.”
“Yup!” Sylvie had learned about soda geysers on an episode of Freaky Food Facts. “I guess sometimes all you really need for a spell is a bit of science. So, what do we do with this guy?”
Georgia lifted the frog into the air, inspecting it more closely. “We should take him back to the garden. Then, we can finish cleaning up this mess.”
Sylvie was about to say, “Okay,” when the door of the food truck opened.
Kitty materialized, wearing her trademark frazzled expression. “Georgia? Sylvie?” She moved closer, squinting around the room. “I’d hoped after your fight you would’ve had a change of heart. Learning to work together is a critical part of the Brindille curriculum. But this place is still a mess!”
“We were working together,” said Sylvie. “But then we heard—”
“It’s my fault,” said Georgia. “I got distracted.”
“I’m disappointed.” Kitty stared unhappily. “Sounds like more excuses. What could be more important than proving to me that you two don’t need to spend eternity scrubbing pots and pans together? I hope this distraction wasn’t another argument.”
“No. Honest, it wasn’t,” said Georgia, lifting the frog. “We were rescuing this guy.”
“He got stuck in the vent,” Sylvie added.
Kitty pulled a thin-framed pair of spectacles from her enormous sagging pocket and muttered, “Death… . Resurrection. Could it be?”
The frog let out a throaty chirp.
Kitty gaped at him. “A soul … reborn again. Jingles is a toad!”
Georgia clutched the squirming frog. “Actually, Jingles isn’t a toad.”
Kitty stared at Georgia, wide-eyed. “I have studied Samsara. Life continues. That is my Jingles.”
Sylvie glanced nervously at Georgia. This wasn’t the time to question Kitty’s beliefs.
“Errr, of course,” said Georgia. “What I’m trying to say is, this is a frog.”
“My baby is a frog?”
Georgia nodded. “See, frogs and toads differ in several—”
Sylvie elbowed her in the ribs.
“Ouch! Never mind.” Georgia handed over the frog. “He’ll need soft dirt to burrow in, and lots of bugs to eat.”
Kitty stroked the frog’s glistening head. “I knew he’d come back to me. As for you two.” Kitty stared imperviously at them.
Sylvie swallowed hard. This is it. They’d failed to finish cleaning. Maybe they’d be permanently relegated to dishwashing duty.
“You’re both free to leave.”
Georgia looked around. “But what about the rest of this mess?” She seemed just as surprised.
Kitty pulled out her Blade and a bit of Mayhem Managing serum. She squeezed it onto the knife and rapped it against a workstation. The last of the mixing bowls flew toward the dishwasher.
“This wasn’t really about cleaning. The point was for you two to learn to work together. You’ve not only shown me you can, you’ve given me back my Jingles.” Kitty smiled at the frog in her hands. “Now, off with you both. I expect things to go smoothly from now on. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Georgia.
Sylvie nodded obediently.
“Oh, and one more thing.” Kitty tucked the frog into her pocket. “Boris told me you two won the bake-off. Congratulations! It’ll be a great opportunity. So, keep your noses clean and dress to impress.”
Sylvie got the feeling this last bit was directed at her; after all, Georgia always dressed to impress. Though, Sylvie didn’t understand why they needed to impress anyone at the Commis Contest. We’re not competing. “Sorry. But I don’t understand.”
“That’s right! You two missed the news scroll… . Jack Bass has decided to spend the entire day of the Commis Contest here,” said Kitty.
Sylvie stared at the frog squirming its way out of Kitty’s pocket. “Bass is coming here … in two days?”
“Yes. He normally only stops by the contest for a few hours, then makes his way to the other schools… . I wonder what’s so special about this year?”
Sylvie’s legs suddenly turned as weak as strands of limp spaghetti. She had a terrible feeling she knew the answer.