Chapter 34 If You Can’t Handle the Heat, Get Out of the …
If You Can’t Handle the Heat, Get Out of the …
“HOLD STILL,” CRIED FLORA. SHE LIFTED HER BLADE INTO the air.
Whack!
The thorny creeper went slack.
Sylvie hoisted herself up. “Let’s get out of here.”
Georgia stared absently. “W-what’s going on?”
“Did we make this mess?” asked Flora.
The slidrian is kicking in. “I’ll explain later,” said Sylvie.
Fernand lunged forward, taking a swipe at Sylvie. He almost managed to grab her, but the tangled nest on the floor wrapped around him. He reached for his Blade, but a thorn pinned his pocket shut.
“Shouldn’t we help him?” asked Georgia.
“No,” said Sylvie. “I need you both to trust me. Fernand isn’t here to help.”
Georgia stitched her brows together. “What are you talking about?”
“Yeah. That makes no sense,” added Flora.
“I know,” said Sylvie. “That’s because Fernand gave you something, so you’d forget.”
“Don’t listen to her,” said Fernand. “Sylvie isn’t well. I think the stress of it all has gotten to her.”
“He’s lying,” said Sylvie.
Flora glanced from Fernand back to Sylvie, as if trying to decide.
A look of concern spread across Fernand’s face as he struggled to break free. “Poor Sylvie needs our help.”
Georgia gnawed on a nail.
Sylvie scooted toward the rope vine, dangling out of the skybox. “Please, Georgia. I need you to believe me.”
Georgia continued to chew. Finally, she looked at Sylvie. “You could’ve just left me in the train when I got stuck, but you didn’t… . You had my back. So, I’ve got yours.”
Sylvie felt her body exhale. Georgia’s with me.
“There’s a small black box with a red button. Make sure Fernand doesn’t find it.”
Georgia nodded. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” Sylvie turned to Flora. “But only you can help me with it.”
She didn’t want to leave her friends behind. But it was safer for them to stay here. If Fernand found the box, Zotter’s kitchen would turn into a pile of tinder. “Make sure no one can follow me.”
Flora lifted her Blade. Light glinted across it like a sunbeam. “When you questioned me about sneaking around the school, I asked you to trust me. You did. Now, it’s my turn.”
The affable mask faded from Fernand’s face as he growled, finally yanking his pocket open. He cut himself loose and scrambled toward Sylvie. “I’ll get you!”
Sylvie hoisted herself onto the daisy chain, dangling over the arena. “Sorry. If you can’t handle the heat. Get out of the—”
Whack!
Flora’s Blade sliced through the vines. Sylvie’s body turned weightless. Thick barbs and fragrant blooms rained down. “Ahhh!”
Sylvie never cared much for roller coasters. Flying through the air at ferocious speeds made her want to vomit. But this was worse. Her stomach leapt into her throat. The wind pounded in her ears. Sylvie’s hands cramped as she tried to hold on. “I’m going to be sick!”
She didn’t look down as she sailed across the arena. Instead, she focused on Zotter’s skybox, moving closer and closer.
Reaching it probably took no more than a few seconds, but to Sylvie, it felt like ages. Finally, the cool glass brushed against her fingers. She grabbed onto the ledge and scrambled up.
The clang of pans going into the oven was already audible. I’m too late. Sylvie raced into the kitchen. Josephine was stooped over the oven. The element of surprise no longer mattered.
“Wait!” cried Sylvie.
For a moment, there was silence. This had never been part of the plan. But now, here Sylvie was, determined to stop the spell, but just as resolved to tell Josephine the truth. Bass had tried to keep people in the dark. But ignorance wasn’t bliss. It made everything worse.
Josephine gripped the oven handle. Her gaze settled on Sylvie. “I suppose I should congratulate you. I never thought you’d make it this far … but you’re still too late.”
Sylvie stared at the pans inside the oven. She had to keep that door open. “Maybe,” said Sylvie, “but before you release the curse, I think you deserve to know the truth. See, I know who sabotaged your spell.”
Josephine started to laugh. “I know too … your mother.” She grabbed the cwtch and rolled it in her hand. Sylvie’s mom flopped against the sides like a moth trapped in a glass.
“No. She didn’t.” Sylvie’s heart shriveled like a grape left out in the sun.
There was so much she wanted to tell her mom.
This is my fault. I’m sorry. I love you.
But there was no time for that. Sylvie had to try and get Josephine to see the truth.
But facts were sometimes like the ocean, one moment sparkling and transparent, the next, twisted and murky.
“Fernand knew the competition was struggling. If things didn’t turn around, he was going to lose it all.
” Sylvie’s eyes darted over to the lever that would launch the kitchen.
She needed to get them into the sky, away from where Fernand planned to release the fireworks.
“He swapped your ingredients and let my mom take the fall.”
Josephine shook her head. “Fernand wouldn’t do that. Winning was everything to his father.”
Sylvie wished she could’ve recorded the confession. “Balthazar wasn’t in on the plan.” She moved closer to the lever. “Think about all the press and excitement the competition got after you lost.”
Josephine’s face seemed to contort. “That … doesn’t prove anything.”
“I know it’s hard to believe,” said Sylvie. “But your friend betrayed you.”
She couldn’t help but feel sorry for Josephine. Even though Josephine had used her—not to mention, lied—she’d also been cheated out of the truth by someone close. It sucked.
“We need to leave this skybox. It’s not safe. Fernand wants to get rid of you permanently,” said Sylvie.
Josephine gazed at the pans in the oven. A flash of warmth filled her eyes. “The last place I ever really mattered was here … in this arena.”
For a moment, Sylvie thought she’d gotten through. But just like that, the look of content was gone.
“This is where my future was stolen from me. I’m not going anywhere until those responsible pay.”
Sylvie knew what was coming next. She lunged for the oven.
Thunk!
The door slammed shut.
“No!”
A trail of vapors spun through the air like a string clinging to the wind.
The scent of fresh herbs and butter wafted toward Sylvie. It should’ve smelled delicious, but something acrid lingered. The aroma of burnt hope and soured dreams.
Sylvie could already feel the despair seeping in. She was sorry she wouldn’t get the chance to hug her mom or see her friends again. In a minute, the pungent odor would fill the arena.
Sylvie’s gaze settled on the table where Zotter’s sugar pump and Josephine’s Blade rested. Unless … I make a cwtch, trapping the spell inside. After all, if a dragon could shrink down to the size of a bird, why not a skybox? At least then Georgia, Flora, and everyone else would be safe.
Gazelle Flip.
This was the final thought that crossed Sylvie’s mind. It was the impossible skate trick, a forty-five-degree board flip mixed with a three-hundred-sixty-degree spin. Everything moving at once, pushing the bounds of possibility. That’s what it would take for Sylvie to pull this off.
Sylvie leapt up, wrenching down the launch lever. The skybox jerked. Josephine’s knees buckled. The cwtch skidded across the floor.
“Mom!” Sylvie wanted to free her, but there wasn’t time. She dove for the sugar pump. Sylvie had never blown sugar before. She pressed her lips against the tip of the horn, and prayed to the culinary gods she didn’t screw this up. Slow and steady, that’s how they did it.
A sphere wobbled to the surface, but it wasn’t smooth and round like Zotter’s. Sylvie’s looked more like a lumpy lemon.
Josephine pulled herself up, her face turning the same fiery red as Agnes’s hair. “You will not ruin this! You’re a liar … just like your mother!”
Sylvie wanted to tell Josephine she was wrong. But instead, she kept blowing. Another blister bubbled up. Josephine lunged for Sylvie. But Sylvie was quick. She pulled the sphere off the pump and ducked beneath Josephine’s elbow.
A burst of adrenaline shot through her as she yanked Josephine’s Blade off the table. Sylvie lifted the ball of sugar into the air. What was the spell Fernand used? His voice echoed in her head: Cericum.
Josephine fixed her with a steely gaze. “Don’t ruin this.”
Sylvie clenched the knife tightly. A violent jolt of electricity shot up Sylvie’s arm as the Blade resisted. Sylvie took a few steps back. “Sorry. But I have to.” Pain seared her hand.
Josephine smiled knowingly at her. “It doesn’t want to work for you… . Don’t you remember what I told you? Never touch another chef’s knife.”
Sylvie’s fingertips turned painfully hot. She tried her best to ignore it. The knife wriggled, recoiling from her touch. “Cericum Skybox!” Sylvie forced her hand, pulling the Blade down.
“You fool! No!” Josephine’s scream spread across the space like a layer of ice.
The floor gave a violent shudder. Sylvie tried to steady herself, but it was no use. The skybox wasn’t shrinking. It was crumbling.
Sylvie didn’t have time to think about all the possible mistakes she’d made with the spell. The next thing she knew, the ground gave way. She toppled through the air, like a stone flung into the abyss.