Chapter 30 How Many Treats Can a Dragon Eat?
How Many Treats Can a Dragon Eat?
SYLVIE LOOKED AROUND, TRYING TO COME UP WITH SOMETHING to use in place of the milk powder. All she had were some crumbs from a granola bar and an old stick of chewing gum.
Georgia pointed to a cup resting on a nearby waste bin. “Maybe it still has some soda inside … might work in a pinch.”
Sylvie shook her head. “A splash of backwash? No thanks! There’s gotta be something better.”
“Besides, we need something dry, not liquid,” said Flora. “Otherwise, the treats will be too loose and won’t roll into balls.”
Georgia scratched her head. “Good point.”
“I might have something.” Flora stuffed a hand into her pocket and pulled out a purple packet. “We can use this.”
“What is it?” asked Sylvie.
“Diddly’s Delights Pep Powder … mostly chocolate with a bit of zingia. I was going to add it to my drink during the competition. You know, to give me an extra boost.”
“Kind of like an energy drink?” asked Georgia.
Flora nodded.
Sylvie looked back up. The competition was already taking on the air of a battlefield. Pumping dragons full of caffeine probably isn’t the smartest idea. On the other hand, chocolate and peanut butter is one of the all-time best combinations.
“Oh dear!” cried the announcer. “Looks like the Norwegians are in trouble. Odd Ivar’s genoise just exploded.”
Flames erupted as Norway’s kitchen veered back to a docking station.
“They’ll have ten minutes to regroup,” said the announcer.
Sylvie clutched the packet as she eyed Zotter. His knife glinted as he brought it down, sending another sugar dragon into a cwtch.
Above the action was LeGrande, floating toward the judges’ table, just as Sylvie had anticipated.
It’s now or never.
“All right,” said Sylvie. “We’ll use Diddly’s Pep Powder in place of the milk powder.”
Flora opened the packet and dumped half into the jar of peanut butter.
“Maybe we could use this for stirring,” said Sylvie, fishing a tongue depressor from an old science project out of her backpack.
“Perfect,” said Flora, giving the goopy mixture a stir.
“Let me see that,” said Georgia, pulling an old, rolled-up math test and a couple of rubber bands out of Sylvie’s bag.
Sylvie grabbed one of the snoozing honey packets, her eyes still on Georgia. “What are you doing?”
Georgia hooked a rubber band through a paper clip. “We still need a way to propel the peanut butter balls up to the dragons.”
“And my math test is going to help?”
“Yes.” Georgia’s tongue twisted between her teeth. “Paper. Rubber bands. Paper clips. That’s all you need to build a slingshot. Now, let me work.”
“Looks like Zotter’s first dragon is ready to be judged,” said the announcer.
With these words, the disk overhead lit up. Even from a distance, Sylvie could see people dotted around the massive circle. If her hunch was right, LeGrande would have a bird’s-eye view of what was happening below. Sylvie quickly rolled a couple of balls.
A shimmer caught her eye.
“Here comes Zotter’s cwtch,” cried the announcer.
“It’s showtime.” Sylvie handed a peanut butter ball to Georgia. “Are you sure you can do this?”
“Yes. I used slingshots all the time to catch frogs with my dad.”
Flora lifted the enormous flag she’d borrowed from a group of Italians, blocking them from the view of everyone except the judges above. “We’ve got cover.”
Georgia inserted the peanut butter ball into the slingshot. Sylvie had never imagined a rolled-up old math test could be so handy.
“You really think you can hit the cwtch with that thing?” asked Sylvie again.
Georgia closed one eye, tracking the cwtch as it floated slowly toward them. “Trust me. This’ll work in a pinch. Now let me focus.”
“Right. Sorry. I just—”
“Shh!”
Sylvie turned her attention back to the remaining peanut butter balls on the steps. With the change in ingredients, they’d decided not to make too many at once. But is it enough? How many treats can a dragon eat?
If they really were irresistible, it was probably better to start out slow.
It was like Sylvie with brownies. If a whole pan was in front of her, even though she knew it would make her sick, she’d devour it.
The goal was to get LeGrande to pause the competition, not unleash an overcaffeinated dragon with an epic stomachache.
“Wait!” said the announcer. “Here comes Caron, and it looks like his first showpiece is complete too!”
France’s kitchen sailed toward the cwtch.
“Oh no you don’t!” Georgia let the peanut butter ball fly.
Sylvie held her breath.
“I can’t look,” cried Flora.
Caron’s kitchen was closing in, fast.
Thunk!
Sylvie must’ve blinked, because the cwtch and peanut butter ball disappeared.
“Did you hit it?”
“I … think so,” said Georgia. “Actually, I’m not sure. Maybe I just hit Caron’s skybox?”
Sylvie twisted around. “Where did the dragon go?”
“How can anyone see it now?” asked Flora.
France’s kitchen had completely taken over the spotlight.
Rude!
“Kitchens aren’t supposed to idle at center stage,” Flora said. “I hope the judges ding him for that.”
Sylvie grabbed another peanut butter ball and handed it to Georgia. “Never mind that, just keep looking for the cwtch.”
People cheered as Caron pulled out several feathers and waved them in the air.
“What’s this?” cried the announcer. “Looks like Caron has a trick up his sleeve. Gallus plumes! Ouch! Zotter won’t be pleased.”
Maybe it was Sylvie’s imagination, but Zotter’s face suddenly seemed red. He tapped his Blade against another sphere of sugar and sent it hurtling into the arena.
“Looks like Zotter’s sending out another dragon,” said the announcer.
The second cwtch sailed past France’s kitchen.
Caron glared at Zotter as he threw the feathers into a pot of chocolate. Several roosters with ruby-red combs strutted out.
“Caron and Zotter are going toe-to-toe,” bellowed the announcer.
“Talk about stealing someone’s thunder,” said Sylvie.
Georgia closed one eye as she fitted the peanut butter ball into the sling. “If someone steals your thunder, you better give them the storm.”
Bam!
This time, Sylvie didn’t blink.
Shards that looked like glass exploded. A moment later, a silvery dragon the size of an airplane burst out. Strings of sticky saliva dripped off its teeth as it peered into Caron’s kitchen.
“Something tells me peanut butter isn’t the only thing dragons like to eat,” said Flora.
Caron dove behind a speed rack. Feathers flew through the air as the roosters tried to escape.
“Ladies and gentleman. Please … ah … stay calm. We’ll have this matter … ah … sorted shortly,” said the announcer.
“I knew this would happen. Zotter é pazzo!” someone cried. Sylvie suspected it was the woman she’d spoken to.
Billows of smoke puffed out as the dragon circled Caron’s kitchen.
“That thing is like a dog with a steak at his feet,” said Georgia.
Georgia was right. Another minute and it would probably turn Caron’s skybox into a bucket of fried chicken. This wasn’t part of the plan.
Sylvie grabbed another peanut butter ball. “We have to distract it.”
“Got it.” Georgia fitted the ball into the sling.
Flora stared at the three remaining peanut butter balls. “I think you better whip up some more, Sylvie.”
“What about the epic stomachache?” asked Sylvie.
Flora eyed the creature clinging to the side of Caron’s kitchen. “I get the feeling that guy could wipe out an entire grocery store and still have room for dessert.”
“Yeah.” Sylvie stared up at it. “I think you’re right.”
“Well, if that’s the case, let’s give him what he wants,” said Georgia. “Hey you … overgrown lizard. It’s lunchtime!” Georgia sent the peanut butter ball sailing up into the sky.
The dragon swung its head around and snapped it up.
Sylvie grabbed the rest of the Pep Powder, dumped it into the jar of peanut butter, and reached for the sack of snoozing honey packets.
Thumps echoed out, like kernels of popcorn bursting open.
“Sounds like they’re awake,” said Georgia.
Sylvie rolled up her sleeves. “You just worry about the dragon. I’ll deal with the bees.”
“We’ve got company!” Flora pointed up.
The chiseled figure was now circling overhead. Sylvie could see its claws glinting like swords.
Georgia grabbed another ball. “One Happy Meal coming up!”
Sylvie peered at the judges’ table, hoping to spot LeGrande coming down. But the giant golden whisk was still anchored next to it.
She had to keep going. Sylvie shoved her hand into the stirring bag.
“Ouch!” The bees weren’t just awake. They were angry.
Sylvie felt another jab and yanked her arm away.
“I need you to buy me a few minutes.” Sylvie handed Georgia another peanut butter ball.
“We’re down to two. So, make him work for them. ”
“You got it.” Georgia glared up at the dragon. “Want more? Then let’s play fetch.”
Sylvie grabbed her backpack and groped for the misshapen stick of gum. This will have to do. She shoved the wad into her mouth, pulled off a sticky gob, and stuffed her hand back into the bag. She could feel the bees moving toward it. They were curious.
Come on. Work!
“Umm … you guys … I think we have a problem,” cried Flora. “Either I’m seeing things or there are—”
“TWO DRAGONS!” screamed someone nearby.
The silvery figures raced through the air with their wings outstretched.
Whoosh!
A string of flags sizzled as one of the dragons spat out a flame.
“Hey! This is a no smoking section!” Georgia coughed.
Flora’s eyes watered.
Cinders rained down as another string of flags shriveled into nothing. Sylvie eyed the judges’ table. Why isn’t LeGrande coming down?
“This would be a really good time to come up with one of your clever fixes,” said Georgia.
The dragons were now circling like hungry sharks.
“Yeah. Preferably before they roast us,” said Flora.
“I’m almost there. Keep stalling!” Sylvie said. She could feel a bee inching its way up her hand. Gotcha! Sylvie pressed her thumb and index finger together, squishing the blob of gum into the bee’s wings.
Georgia spun around. “Look out!”
The flag in Flora’s hands burst into flames as the dragons dove toward the final peanut butter ball.
Sweat poured down Sylvie’s brow as she shoved the rest of the gum into the bag.
“What’s taking so long?” cried Georgia.
“I’ve got ’em!” Sylvie ripped the bag open. The honey packets hobbled across the steps. Sylvie picked them up and squeezed. A sticky golden trail oozed into the jar as she rolled several fresh balls. “Here.” She shoved two at Georgia.
More treats sailed into the sky. The dragons were now in a frenzy. Sticky droplets of saliva rained down. Smoke and cinders filled the air.
“I’m starting to wonder if the Pep Powder was a bit much,” said Georgia.
Bam!
A tail collided with Caron’s skybox.
Chocolate exploded in the air as one of the dragons snatched several roosters.
“Possibly … yes,” said Sylvie, staring at the scene.
“All available Emergency Magical Malady Technicians report to the Sky Deck for duty!” the announcer shouted. “Competitors, please redock your kitchens. We’ll be taking a short break.”
Then again. Maybe it was just right. “The competition is being paused,” said Sylvie. “Our plan is working.”
Sylvie looked back up at the judges’ table, trying to see what was happening, but it was impossible.
A stew of smoke, feathers, and chocolate swirled through the air like confetti. One of the dragons locked eyes with Sylvie. A long black tongue flicked out of its mouth as it spotted the peanut butter balls. The dragon’s jaws opened wide.
Sylvie had never imagined that hardened sugar had a sound. But as she stared into the enormous flaming mouth, an echo erupted, like plates of the Earth grinding together. It was actually beautiful, melodic, but the ball of fire churning inside kind of ruined the mood.
Sylvie hurled treats toward the heavily fanged mouth. She was preparing to kiss her flame-broiled butt goodbye when a hand reached down and grabbed her.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you? It’s not nice to play with your food,” said a familiar voice.