The Royal Academy of Magical Baking

"Do?" Lyra echoed weakly. "What am I supposed to 'do' about Boysen?"

"Something," Ginger replied. "Anything would be better than what you've done up to this point. Which is nothing."

Lyra dropped her gaze, her fingers motionless in her half-finished braid. "I… I know."

Ginger threw up her hands in victory. "She speaks! She is aware! Thank the seasonings. I knew you weren't that dense."

"Of course Lyra isn't dense." Caramelle turned to them both with closed eyes, rubbing 'skincare step eight' cream on her eyelids. "She's simply been focused on more important things, like classwork and Enjoyment. Have we not made it clear that we don't have time for dating?"

"This isn't dating," Ginger countered. "It's… intensely focused collegial partnership. I think Lyra and Boysen make a great team."

"They do," Caramelle replied slowly. Opening her eyes, she studied Lyra's reflection in the mirror. "Some bakers do seem to thrive on close collaboration."

Ginger nodded at Caramelle's reflection. "Exactly. And until then, it's just going to be more and more of a distraction. Unspoken feelings are like air bubbles in cake batter. Let the mixing process go on too long, and the bubbles build up all sneaky-like. Then, once they pop…"

"The cake collapses," Caramelle finished. Her eyes drifted thoughtfully to her own reflection. "That's a fitting image, Ginger."

"But what am I supposed to do about it?" Lyra repeated, looking back and forth between the two girls in the mirror.

Ginger shrugged. "You'll figure something out. Just make sure you don't leave it much longer."

"But what if it's too late? What if the batter is already overmixed and unstable?" With a sigh of frustration, Lyra undid her braid and started over. "It's been coming on so gradually…"

"For you, maybe." Ginger gave a short laugh. "I'm pretty sure Berry's bread was baked from day one. Mac's too, for that matter, but that's another menu altogether." Her gaze shifted mischievously to Caramelle. "Maybe they should check the air vents in Whisk for some kind of fast-acting love powder. Like a baking soda for boys' affections, or something."

Blushing furiously, Caramelle busied herself with dabbing cream number nine under her eyes.

Lyra, meanwhile, was making a mess of her second braid attempt. "Day one?" she sputtered. "That's… but…"

"Don't play dumb, Lyra." Ginger grinned cheerfully at the other two girls' embarrassed efforts to continue their hair-and-skin routines. "You're too good a musician not to have picked up on that kind of vibration in the air. Especially working with him so closely last year."

"I… fine. Yes." Giving up on the braid, Lyra picked up her brush to deal with the tangles she had caused in her haste. "But… why didn't he say anything?"

"Only he knows for sure, but I bet I can guess his reasons. I'll give you four of them. In honor of the four true baking disciplines." Ginger raised a hand and began counting on her fingers. "One, Cardamom Coulis. Two, you were all pretty fixated on not getting cut last year. There wasn't room in your brain for much else. Three, you were still working your way through your bard and baker identities. I doubt you would have reacted well. And four… Cardamom. Again. 'Coulis the Third' wrought a lot of havoc in your heart-kitchen."

"Puffed up sugar-sack," Caramelle muttered. Ginger reached around Lyra to give her a high five.

"And what about earlier this year?" Lyra demanded.

"This year's been full of Enjoyment. Or, rather, full of worrying about Enjoyment." Ginger raised an eyebrow. "And then you made a public announcement about how there's 'no time for dating' at the academy."

Remembering that moment made Lyra want to hide under the counter. Instead, she vented all her distress into increasingly vigorous brushstrokes. "It's like Caramelle said. There's been so much going on. And it's all so complicated… and confusing…"

"It's just Boysen," Ginger said dryly. "Not too complicated. I'd say he's equal parts Flavor, general goodwill, and utter adoration for one Lyra Treble. Right, Meringue?"

"An accurate assessment," Caramelle replied, her voice muffled as she patted skincare step eleven around her mostly closed lips.

Lyra scowled, forcing her brush through a painful tangle. "There's a lot more to him than that."

Ginger just winked at her in the mirror.

Having finished step eleven, Caramelle set the jar aside and turned to Lyra, her tone suddenly gentle. "You do actually like him, right?"

"Of course she does." Ginger rolled her eyes. "I think it's been simmering in that Treble brain for a lot longer than she realizes. Not quite as long as Berry, but she wasn't far behind."

Lyra turned from the mirror to stare at the actual Ginger. "So why didn't you say anything?"

"I'll give you four reasons." Ginger smirked as she held up her hand again. "One, Cardamom Coulis. Two —"

Lyra interrupted her. "So why bring it up now?"

"I've been wanting to for a while," Ginger replied. "I have dropped some very not-so-subtle hints. Then you got way too upset about those first-years today, and I knew it couldn't wait any longer. But don't fret."

Taking the brush from Lyra's hand, Ginger patted her on the shoulder. "The first step to completing a recipe is to admit that you've been standing there, staring at it. For a year and a half."

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Lyra drew in a sharp breath. "The first-years… oh, flats. I can't."

"Can't what?" Ginger asked.

"Can't… do anything. About Boysen. Not right now."

Ginger's dark eyes narrowed. "Why not? Because of Little Miss First-Year? Don't want to come between her and her unhealthy infatuation?"

"Marzy would be devastated." Lyra sighed. "But that's just part of it. I'm mainly thinking of Arch."

"Is he in love with Boysen too?" Ginger threw up her hands again, this time in exasperation. "Salts. Those Berry boys should have a warning label."

"I thought Arch liked Marzy. They're always together." Caramelle glanced up to find the other two girls looking at her in the mirror. "What?"

"Since when do you notice stuff like that?" Ginger's eyes narrowed further. "I thought you didn't have time for anything to do with… anything outside baking."

"And you've paid even less attention to the first-years than I have," Lyra added.

Caramelle kept her eyes on her skincare jars, deliberately returning each of the twelve back to its spot on the counter. "I am very observant, I'll have you know. A Texturist has to be. I may not always comment on what I see, but my eye is trained for detail. Those two have been inseparable all year."

Lyra shook her head. "I don't think Arch likes Marzy."

"Then does he like you?" Ginger sighed. "Sweet and savory, this is getting complicated. For a bunch of supposedly clever bakers, we seem to struggle getting the right ingredients together."

"No, that's not it." Lyra smiled at her friend's exaggerated weariness. "He doesn't like anyone. Or even if he did, it wouldn't matter. He's too focused on the academy. Specifically on doing well at the academy."

"Sounds similar to me." Caramelle pushed the twelfth jar into place gloomily. "Poor boy."

"I think it's closer to me, actually." Lyra turned to Ginger. "You mentioned my 'bard identity', remember? Arch is from a non-baking family too. That's what he was going on about earlier, in the practice kitchen. He thought I would understand how hard he has to work to prove himself."

"You do understand that," Ginger pointed out.

"Keenly," Caramelle agreed.

A drum was starting to pound painfully somewhere behind Lyra's eyes. "I do. That's why I have to commit, like he said. No distractions. No wasting time."

Ginger gasped in mock indignation. "Boysen is a waste of time?"

"Not Boysen himself," Lyra countered wearily. "Dating Boysen."

"Intensely focused collegial partnership," Ginger corrected her.

"Whatever. Arch is counting on me." Closing her eyes, Lyra began massaging her temples. "They're all counting on me. The first-years, the professors…"

"And Boysen," Caramelle said softly.

Lyra didn't answer. It was hard to concentrate through the pain pulsing from ear to ear.

"The Meringue speaks truth." Ginger took Lyra's hands and held them, speaking with un-Crumble-esque gentleness. "Arch will live. So will Marzy. And the professors, and everyone else who wants to see Enjoyment happen. It will happen, by the way. We, together, will figure it out. That's not in question."

She squeezed Lyra's hands, forcing the bard-turned-baker to open her eyes.

"The only question, Lyra Treble, is what state your heart-kitchen is going to be in when that day comes. Yours and Boysen's. That's why you need to do something."

Lyra forced a smile. To her surprise, the growing headache immediately receded in response. Just by a pinch or two, but it was enough to make her sigh audibly in relief.

"I will," she said through the sigh. "Soon."

"You'd better." Ginger's eyes suddenly sparkled with impish glee. "If not for your own sake, then at least for that ridiculous Flavor nerd you're so sweet on."

Caramelle's mischievous grin was just as rare, and equally as effective, as Professor Puff's. "You mean, the Flavor King who's so sweet on her?"

"Again, heed The Meringue." Ginger bowed to Caramelle in hilarious imitation of Professor Genoise's formal manner. "The King of Flavor Nerds, who is beyond confectioner sugar levels of sweet on our Lyra. Honestly, Treble. Show some compassion for the Berry."

Lyra's smile grew wider and less forced as the pain continued to fade slowly, pinch by quarter-teaspoonful.

"I will," she said again. "I promise."

—

Lyra halted in the foyer of the main hall, examining her reflection in a large gilt-edged mirror.

"Ginger was right," she whispered. "That is a 'Thoughtful Face.'"

She couldn't help it. It had been a very thoughtful sort of Saturday. All of Ginger's and Caramelle's words from the night before were still bubbling through her mind, singing with cheerful persistence under every other internal melody.

What are you going to do about Boysen?

They were right, of course. The Berry melody would turn sour if left unaddressed too much longer. She fully intended to keep her promise and do… something. Soon.

But not today. The Puff Paragons had been laboring together since early morning, covering the common area kitchen of the second floor dorm with various types of puff pastry. Even if Lyra had known how to start the conversation, the weekend's homework assignments hadn't offered much of an opening. "Please pass the butter" just didn't lead naturally to "I think you're cooler than chilled chocolate mousse; want to get coffee sometime?"

Besides, she was tired. They were all tired. Per Saturday night tradition, they had all retreated to their various rooms for some much needed decompression. Or, in Caramelle's case, to get an early start on the next day's round of homework.

"I will rest," she had assured them, just as she did every week. "Believe me, I will rest much better if I know everything is in order for the morning."

Lyra had her own mountain of puff pastry fillings to prep and spells to study. But she simply couldn't face it, any more than she could face the prospect of getting the Berry melody out into the open at last. She couldn't even face her room, though there wasn't anyone there to disturb her Saturday night solitude. Ginger always went home after her tutoring sessions with Professor Genoise in the afternoon.

Still, the cacophony of different stress-tunes raging inside Lyra's skull filled her with nervous energy. Her feet had moved of their own accord, taking her out of the dorm and along the stone pathway to the main hall. Only now, standing in the foyer, did she pause to consider her destination.

"I could go up to one of the practice kitchens," she said to her reflection. "Not the third floor. Marzy and Arch are probably still working. Maybe one of the others…"

The face in the mirror frowned back at her. Didn't the Apprentice Bakers often use the practice kitchens in the main hall? Especially towards the end of second term, when they would be deep into their thesis projects? Lyra had no desire to run into Eclair or Florentine.

Or anyone at all, for that matter.

She heard the main hall door beginning to creak open behind her, and her feet took over once again. Dashing to the right, she slipped into the dining hall before anyone could spot her.

I'll go see Queen Penelope, she thought. I can take the back stairs from the kitchens. And on the way, I can say hi to —

The door to the kitchen swung open just as she reached it.

"Chef!" she exclaimed. "Are you going out? I thought Friday was your night off."

Chef Flax was bundled up in an overcoat. His usual white chef's hat had been replaced by a fedora. His eyes twinkled at Lyra as he pulled gloves over his hands.

"Lyra! Lovely to see you. You're quite right: Friday is my night off. This is academy business. Unofficial, mind. I'm off to meet the professors and a few old friends from the board."

Lyra's internal chorus spiked into a double-time crescendo. "You… you're going to talk about Enjoyment?"

"Unofficially." He winked at her. "If anyone asks, I am away on a social call. But first, what can I do for you? Were you coming to see me?"

His voice was so kind, his presence so warm and supportive, that some tightly-wound string deep inside Lyra snapped.

"Oh, Chef…"

That was as far as she got before she burst into tears.