Kathryn Littlewood - Sweet

Ty itched under his beard. “Wow, Tia Lily. You’re scary. You’re like a devil-aunt. You’re like. . . a tia. . . but you’re also the Devil, El Diablo. You’re like. . . El Tiablo!”

“So, you see, I can’t give it back in exchange for you throwing the contest,” said Lily as she examined her flawless cheek in the mirror, hunting for clogged pores that weren’t there. “And I can’t stop selling Lily’s Magic Ingredient.”

“But—” Rose began to protest just as two men wearing suit jackets and polo shirts burst through the door.

“There you are, you geniuses!” said the shorter of the two. The taller one was studying the screen on his mobile phone.

“My name is Joel,” said the short one. “I’m one of the producers of Lily’s 30-Minute Magic. This is our other producer, Kyle.”

The taller man looked up from his mobile phone for a moment and nodded, then looked back down.

Joel shook Rose’s hand. “You were fabulous today,” he said enthusiastically. “I thought maybe Kyle had arranged your showdown with Lily as a birthday present to me, but he was as surprised as I was!”

Rose gave a confused half smile.

“Anyway, we can’t wait for this year’s Gala des Gâteaux Grands,” Joel said. “Could a twelve-year-old girl possibly beat Lily Le Fay, the world’s most famous baker? It’s genius! Everyone in the universe will be tuning in to watch! And that includes aliens!

“We’ll get all the contracts ironed out later,” Joel went on. “For now, just know that you’ve made us very happy producers. Kisses!” he said, kissing the air on either side of Rose’s cheek.

“Bye,” muttered Kyle.

After Joel and Kyle had closed the dressing room door behind them, Lily went back to examining her skin in the mirror. “As I was saying, I can’t just give the Booke back, or stop selling Lily’s Magic Ingredient. But I also can’t back down from your challenge, because I already accepted on TV. That would make me look like a chump. Am I a chump? I don’t think so. Do chumps wear plush cotton robes and smell like lilacs? No. The only way to settle this is to play it out at the Gala fair and square.”

“You mean,” Rose said, wincing, “actually compete?”

“Yes, actually compete! Did you think I would just roll over without a fight?” Lily swung around on her dressing stool to face Rose and Ty. “If you win, which you won’t, I’ll stop selling Lily’s Magic Ingredient, and I’ll give you back the Booke, and you can continue to lock it in a closet in your refrigerator and let its power go to waste. But if I win – and I will win – you’ll swear to me that not a single member of your scraggly, weird, classless family will ever come near me or the Booke again.”

Rose gulped. Now, if she lost the Gala des Gâteaux Grands to Lily, she would lose the Booke forever.

“Don’t worry, Tiablo. Rosita’s gonna bring it. Hard.” Ty patted Rose on the back. “But how do we know you’re not lying? What’s to stop you from holding on to the Booke or making more Magic Ingredient after you lose?”

Now Rose patted her brother on the back. She hadn’t even thought of that.

“Come with me,” said Lily.

Rose and Ty followed Lily out of her dressing palace and on to the set of Lily’s 30-Minute Magic.

Rose looked out at the rows and rows of empty seats, at the darkened grid of lights hanging from the ceiling. The studio was cold without all those giddy fans.

Lily set to work, tossing some pantry ingredients into a metal mixing bowl: flour, brown sugar, eggs, butter, milk.

“What are you making?” Rose asked.

“I am making a No-Renege Rugelach,” Lily said, twirling the spoon through the batter. “After eating one of these, neither of us will be capable of going back on our word.”

Lily unlocked a small drawer beneath the sink of her TV kitchen and pulled out a miniature blue mason jar filled with a clear, viscous liquid.

“And what is that goop you’re putting in?” Ty asked.

“Throughout the ages, the majestic ring fairies have been known for never going back on their word. This,” Lily said, pouring a few drops of the clear gloop over the rest of the ingredients, “is their saliva.”

“Great,” said Ty, rolling his eyes.

Thirty minutes later, Lily pulled the tray of No-Renege Rugelach from the oven and handed Rose and Ty two piping-hot pieces. “On three, we eat,” Lily said, lifting a piece herself. “One. . . two. . . three.”

Rose shifted the flaky, buttery roll of dough from one set of burned fingertips to the other, back and forth. She never imagined actually having to beat Lily at the Gala des Gâteaux Grands. She had no idea how – or even if – she could win.

“Well?” asked Lily, popping the rugelach in her mouth. “Are you going to eat it or not?”

At that moment, Rose hated her aunt so thoroughly that she felt her blood get hot. I can beat her, she thought. I have to.

She stuffed the rugelach into her mouth and swallowed.

Exhausted, Rose and Ty stumbled out the back door of the studio to find Purdy and Albert there to greet them. Sage and Leigh were seat-belted in the back of the Bliss family van.

“How did it go?” Purdy asked, kneeling on the sidewalk. She was wearing the same filthy, striped apron that she wore every day, which looked right at home in the Bliss kitchen but seemed very out of place next to a television studio.

“She accepted,” said Rose.

“She’ll do the contest?” asked Purdy.

Rose nodded.

“And you’ll lose on purpose, and she’ll give back the cookbook?” Purdy asked.

“No,” said Rose.

Albert paused nervously. “What do you mean, no? Wasn’t that the plan?” Since losing the Cookery Booke, he had stopped shaving, as well as exercising. His cheeks had filled out considerably, and a thick beard the texture of steel wool had enveloped the lower half of his face.

Rose gulped. “She said she’ll give back the Booke if we beat her fair and square. And if we lose, we have to promise never to go looking for it again. It’s lost forever.”

“Oh,” said Purdy quietly. “That’s another matter entirely, isn’t it.”

“Yup!” Albert shouted, beginning to hyperventilate. “Oh boy!”

Rose hung her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how it went wrong. I was sure she’d give the Booke back if I offered to throw the contest! But now I actually have to beat her! And we ate a No-Renege Rugelach, so there’s no backing down now.”

Purdy cupped Rose’s cheek in her hand. “Well, you know what this means.”

“What?”

“You’re going to have to win the Gala des Gâteaux Grands.”

Rose hung her head.

“Oh boy,” Albert repeated, pacing around the concrete sidewalk, scratching at his sweaty, round head.

“Albert, love, you’re not helping,” Purdy said. “Don’t worry, Rose. You don’t have to do it alone. We’re all going to beat Lily together. We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Leigh called out to Rose from her car seat in the back of the van. “Foolish, simple Rose!” She chuckled. “Daring to duel with the mistress of muffins!”

“You have to win,” Purdy continued, “if only so that we can get our hands on the recipe for Turn-Back Trifle and fix our little Lily-loving monster here. I’m assuming the effects of Lily’s Magic Ingredient wear off shortly if you just eat a little bit of it, but Leigh ate a whole pound cake. She could be stuck like this forever if we don’t get the Booke back.”

Leigh folded her arms across her dirty 101 Dalmatians T-shirt. “Oh, Purdy!” she called. “My bladder is. . . replete. If we don’t get to a bathroom soon, we’re going to have a situation on our hands!”