Chapter 22 Stuck Between a Rock and a Jar of Pickle Dust #2
Sylvie slid down the rungs, as agents thrust aprons full of bursting beans into toolboxes.
Deep breath. Panicking now wasn’t going to help.
Sylvie’s foot had just hit solid ground, when someone reached out and grabbed her by the collar. She looked up.
Standing over her, eyes glinting like a crocodile’s, was the female agent, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She stared suspiciously at Sylvie. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Sylvie suddenly felt her heart pounding its way out of her chest.
“Uh … b-bean bounced over here.” Sylvie lifted her hair, revealing the welt on her neck. “I was chasing after it but couldn’t find it.”
“She’s lying,” said a voice.
Sylvie turned. A sneer spread across Belinda’s face. “Look at her fingernails. They’re black.”
The agent’s gaze narrowed as she examined Sylvie’s hands.
Sylvie had never fainted. She’d come close once, when those muffins sliced through her hand. But in this moment, she felt as if she might pass out. The room started to spin. The edges of her brain grew fuzzy. More people closed in around her.
Georgia. Maggie. Flora. Jack Bass.
“It’s soil.” Georgia lifted her hands. “Yesterday we helped Instructor Gideon harvest mugworts and chocolate vines. My nails were black too … but I cleaned them up and gave them a fresh coat of polish.”
“It’s true,” said Sylvie. This wasn’t really a lie. Sylvie was just choosing to leave out a few pertinent details.
“I think you’re up to something.” The agent squeezed Sylvie’s arm tightly.
Jack Bass stepped in front of them. “This is exactly why there should be harsher punishments for liars and cheaters.”
Flora’s eyes grew wide. She glanced from Bass to Sylvie, then headed for the door.
Guilt and fury bubbled up in equal measure as Sylvie stared at Bass. Maybe he was right. Sylvie certainly had bent a lot of rules lately. But she’d had good reason. In fact, that reason was standing smugly in front of her now.
Bass took off his hat and scratched his head. “Fairness. Justice. That’s the backbone of everything we stand for at the CCS.”
Really? Sylvie wanted to say, but Bass continued.
“Now some people may not want to fall in line, but they get culled from the herd. Some might say that’s harsh. But I disagree. Just like nature, we must weed out those who don’t belong.” His eyes drifted over to Sylvie.
Sylvie tried to come up with something clever. But, at the moment, the only thing she could think of was making raspberry noises with her tongue. Not exactly a killer comeback.
Georgia’s hands clenched into fists. “My dad works on a farm. When they have a horse go lame, they put it out to pasture instead of sending it to slaughter. Sometimes, it’s not about being wrong or weak, it’s about the right environment.”
Bass smiled down at her. It wasn’t an inviting look, more like a vulture sizing up its prey. “That’s the trouble with Scullery. They don’t have much sense, or vision.”
“Good one,” said Belinda.
Several agents started to laugh.
Georgia’s gaze dropped.
Sylvie gritted her teeth. “Well, at least they have heart. Besides, who are you to decide which of us is worthy?”
“Who am I?” Bass placed his hat firmly back on his head. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Sylvie.
The room fell silent.
The agent holding Sylvie took a small step back.
In moments of sheer panic, they say time slows down. But that wasn’t true for Sylvie. Time seemed to suddenly speed up. Her heart raced. Footsteps slapped against stone, faster and faster. Louder and louder.
Bass reached out for her. “Now you listen to me!”
Sylvie squeezed her eyes shut and prepared for him to shake everything loose.
Bang!
This time it wasn’t a bursting bean.
The door swung open. Kitty marched through, followed by Flora and two prancing kittens.
“I hear there’s been an accident.” Kitty rolled up her sleeves, exposing her healed wrist, and scooped Belinda’s rattling toolbox into her arms. “Don’t worry about having your agents clean up. We can handle the mess.”
Sylvie had never imagined she’d be so relieved to see Kitty. But nearly getting crushed like a bug had changed her perspective.
Bass wagged a sausage-sized finger at Sylvie. “You’re up to something, just like your mother.”
Kitty smiled politely. “Do you have any proof? If not, please have your agent take her mitts off Ms. Jones… . Actually, proof is irrelevant. We have a code of conduct here at Brindille, and violence isn’t part of it.”
The agent released her grip.
Sylvie reached a hand across and massaged her sore arm.
“Thank you.” Kitty turned to Bass. “You and your team are free to go now. Madame Godard is in the main building, helping with preparations. She’d like a word with you about a letter she received.”
Bass seemed ready to object, but something made him reconsider.
Sylvie stared at the ground, trying not to give anything away. But there could be no doubt. She’s going to expose Ms. Honeycut.
Bass gestured to the agents. “Come on. Let’s leave them to it.”
“Oh, and Belinda.” Kitty turned. “You’re also free to go. It’s time for you and the other competing students to set up your booths. As for the rest of you, once we get this mess tidied up, we can get started on preparations for the parade.”
Belinda glanced back. Her eyes grew even smaller as she glared at Sylvie. “This isn’t over. I promise.”
Sylvie straightened up. The threat wound itself around her, tight as a spider’s web. She had no doubt Belinda would make good on her promise. But that didn’t matter.
Sylvie felt the bag in her pocket.
Woad was part of the cabbage family. As far as vegetables went, it was an underdog. Eaten by peasants. Shunned in establishments of fine dining. Sylvie never understood why it got such a bad rap. She’d always been fond of cabbage. Stuffed. Shredded. Braised.
But in this moment, it was something more. It was power.