by Erin Johnson
Hank slammed his palm down on the table. I grimaced—that had to have stung. Hank’s broad chest heaved and after a few moments of heavy silence, he slid his eyes across to our stunned group. His eyes found mine, and the anger in them faded. He lowered his head and stalked off past the bleachers.
That left us all staring at Glenn. The pudgy man raised his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, then thumbed toward Hank.
“If you can’t handle the heat, get out of the tent, as they say.” He chuckled dryly, but when no one joined him, he cleared his throat. “I’m just gonna take a turn around the garden, fresh air and all that.” He waddled outside, and Maple and I turned to each other.
“Awkward,” Rhonda sang.
Maple cleared her throat. “Looks like it’s time I checked my prove.”
I nodded as she walked to the pantry, joined by Sam and Wool. They’d all gotten their dough into the pantry to rise ages before me. I fidgeted with the hem of my apron as the three of them carried their bowls back to their stations. I craned my neck to get a look. All of the dough balls had grown to twice their original size and had a nice shine. That would make good bread.
If I didn’t take mine out soon, I wouldn’t have enough time for the bake, but if I took it out of the pantry too soon, the bread would turn out flat and tough. I bit my lip and brushed my bangs out of my face, waiting as long as I could. After another fifteen minutes, I walked over to the pantry, doing mental calculations.
Okay, if I work it and braid it for ten minutes, then weave in the eggs, that’ll take another five, and hopefully the oven’s hot enough, I can bake for twenty-five minutes. Oh wait, I still need to brush the egg over the dough to get that shine.
In the dim pantry, I found my bowl beside the others, and walked back to my station. I dumped the bread out on my floured countertop. It had risen surprisingly well.
I pulled it into three equal sections, rolling and pulling each section into three long, skinny ropes. As I greased my baking sheet, the sound of voices made me turn.
“Well, I never, I mean—” Glenn muttered to himself as he entered the tent from the garden, wringing his hands and taking a few steps in one direction and then a few in another. He seemed confused or conflicted. Could he still be upset over his row with Hank?
Suddenly Hank threw back the flaps on the opposite side of the tent and stalked toward his station, eyes on the ground. Still muttering, Glenn shuffled to the pantry, and Pritney appeared just behind Glenn.
A shout startled me. What now? Glenn staggered out of the pantry.
“Who’s taken my dough?” Glenn rounded on Pritney, jabbing his finger in her direction. “Was this you?”
Her heavy brow dropped low and her eyes burned. “How dare you!”
Glenn scowled and began stalking around the tent, investigating everyone’s stations. “You think this is some sort of prank?”
Had he looked hard enough at the shelves, there’d been three bowls left, one each for him, Hank, and Pritney. Unless…. Oh no.
I looked at my bowl and with a sinking stomach realized that the towel that had covered the dough was blue, where mine had been blue and green. I stepped back, hands in the air in surrender.
“Oh Glenn, I’m so sorry.”
He looked up from poking around Maple’s cabinets, while she looked on, horrified. He stiffened and stalked to my station. “What have you done?”
“I thought it was mine, honestly.” I sighed, my throat tight. I just seemed incapable of doing anything right. First, I’d nearly extinguished Iggy, now this?
“I don’t trust that anyone in this tent is honest anymore.” Glenn threw his nose in the air and sniffed. He gathered up his bread then turned to Rhonda and Francis, who stood nearby, drawn by the commotion. “I want it noted that she worked my dough and any issues with toughness and texture are entirely her fault.”
I swallowed. “It’s true.”
Amelia rushed into the tent from some errand. “What’s going on?”
Glenn jabbed a finger at me. “Cheaters and liars all around. But most pertinent right now, is she’s stolen my dough.”
“It was an accident.” My chest trembled as I fought to hold back tears. “Truly, the pantry is dim and—”
“And so are you!” Glenn barked.
I pressed a palm to my aching chest.
“You don’t speak to her like that.” I turned. Hank’s dark eyes looked rabid in his pale face. He stood very still, but a vein in his neck bulged and his knuckles looked blotchy as he gripped the edge of the table.
Amelia looked back and forth between him and me and Glenn. “All right, enough. I know we’ve been under a great amount of strain, but this is a baking competition, for great ocean’s sake! Everyone, back to their stations, finish this up, and yes, Glenn, we’ve noted that she worked your dough, but let’s complete the task and just sort this out during judging, all right? In the meantime, everyone cool it.”
I took a shaky breath and slunk back to the pantry to get my real dough. I peeked under the towel. The measly thing had barely risen at all.
With a heavy heart I carried it past the medic corner where Pritney, pretending to be injured no doubt, stood huddled with Nate. I couldn’t hear what she said, but her harsh and frantic whispers sounded angry. I tried to catch Nate’s eye, but he kept his head down, eyes on Pritney.
I stood before my station, divided the dough, braided it, circled it up, and worked in six of the rainbow eggs.
“Iggy?”
I didn’t get a response, and I hadn’t expected to. I pushed the tray with my flat, lifeless bread into the oven and flipped my hourglass, muttering “Twenty-five minutes.”
I tucked the thing in my apron, padded out of the tent and past the bleachers, and collapsed at the base of a giant tree. I leaned my back into its trunk, pulled my knees up close, and buried my face in my lap to cry.
I’m out, I’m absolutely out. Even if they don’t end up disqualifying me for taking Glenn’s bread, mine has absolutely got to be the worst of the group’s. It’s flat and dull, and that’s assuming Iggy doesn’t torch it or underbake it, and I’d hardly blame him for doing either. I cried harder into my apron.
After I’d cried myself tired, I leaned against the tree. The sea breeze ruffled my hair, and the waving boughs cast mottled shadows across my arms and legs. I’d miss this place. I’d come to love it here. It felt like home, like where I belonged. I leaned my chin on my knees. Maybe it was home. Had my parents been from the Water Kingdom?
Beyond what lay in the past, I had friends. I had Maple, I had magic and beauty and adventure… but I also had a temporary visa.
I’d asked Amelia about it earlier in the competition. I could only stay till the Summer Solstice, and then after that if I wanted to return, I’d have to apply for a new visa. If I’d won, I could’ve stayed on a work permit. But with security concerns about the Badlands Army and no magical records or knowledge of my birth parents, she’d told me to expect a lengthy, tedious process. And I thought that was her being nice.
In the meantime, I’d have to figure out a way to get back home on the funds I had left and try to get a new job. I brushed my palm over the lush blades of green grass. Ah well, I could only do my best.
I stood, brushed myself off, and went back to the tent. Even the delicious smell of baking bread couldn’t comfort me much. Maple gave me a tight-lipped smile, and I gave her one back, mouthing, “I’m all right.” She frowned, but nodded and went back to fanning her beautiful round twist loaf, filled with a sugary nut spread. I knew one person who’d be continuing on till tomorrow. That cheered me a bit. At least I could stay on and cheer for my friend.
I pulled my pan from the oven with just minutes left in the giant hourglass. Iggy had decided not to bake it at all. The dough had spread and when I poked it, it was still gooey and raw. I took a shaky breath and when Amelia announced, “Time’s up,” I carried the sad loaf to the front table on a ceramic platter.
Maple
gave my hand a tight squeeze. Tears trickled silently down my cheeks. I didn’t want to be crying, but I couldn’t seem to stop. The judges and Amelia came to stand before us.
“I’ve got something to say.”
I blinked the tears from my eyes and looked down the line to Glenn. Though short, he’d drawn himself up to his full height, chest puffed out. “I’ve been debating and debating, and I feel it’s my duty to say something. I simply cannot let such flagrant cheating—”
My stomach clenched. How could he think I’d meant to take his bread? Well, I guessed my dough was awful, and someone in my situation might try taking someone else’s. But if that were the case, wouldn’t I have tried to be sneakier about it? And did he really think so lowly of me?
Before he could continue, Pritney, who’d been running behind, pushed her way between Glenn and Sam, turning as she did so. The bread she’d shaped like a coiled dragon opened its mouth and a curling flame shot out of it, catching Glenn’s sleeve on fire.
“Ah!” He screamed and batted at it. Sighing, Amelia threw an arm out, magically dousing Glenn in water and extinguishing the fire.
Panting, Glenn looked around, panicked.
“Go see the medic, Glenn,” Amelia ordered, pointing back toward Nate in the corner. His thick brows had drawn together in a deep frown. “You can finish telling us all about the flagrant cheating after he patches you up.”
Glenn opened his mouth to speak, and Amelia barked, “Uh!” Then she pointed to the medic and Glenn hung his head like a puppy and trudged back to the corner.
Amelia let out a heavy sigh. “Right then. Thank the great sea goddess we didn’t have an audience today.” She waved the judges forward. “To it, then? You can come back to Glenn’s when he returns.”
Rhonda and Francis tasted their way down the line, Rhonda moaning over Maple’s loaf. “Oh, this is divine. Absolutely divine.” She ate an extra bite.
I came next. They stared blankly at my loaf.
“I can’t eat that, it’s raw. I’ll have stomach bloat if I do, and I’ve got a hot date tonight, so….” Rhonda grimaced.
Francis sniffed it. “Completely inedible.”
Rhonda shook her head. “Even if it had been baked, I can tell it didn’t prove long enough. It should have at least risen some.”
I nodded, my throat tight.
Rhonda gave me a sad smile. “Sorry, Imogen. We all make mistakes sometimes.”
They finished their lap and about that time, Glenn rejoined us, his right forearm wrapped in white binding. Rhonda lifted off a hunk of Glenn’s cheesy pull-apart bread, a long yellow string trailing behind. She chewed and chewed, looking right then left.
“Normally, mate, I’d say put bread and cheese together, you’ve got yourself a winner. And it’s decent, but rather bland. Not enough salt, maybe.”
Francis nodded, still chewing.
Glenn’s dark skin flushed a deeper shade and he shot me a fiery glance. He yanked off a hunk of the bread and popped it in his mouth. He chewed a bit, then said around the bread, “Well, uf she hodn’t pulled it and worked it, it’d be softer, but you’re crazy if you think id needs salt ’cause—”
He stopped and dipped his chin forward, blinking rapidly. He coughed, then coughed again, his breath wheezy. Glenn spit the bread out of his mouth and pressed both hands to his throat, while his face turned red and blotchy.
“What’s wrong with him?” Rhonda turned to Amelia and Francis.
Sam put a hand on Glenn’s back. “Are you all right? I think he’ssss choking.”
“Medic!” Amelia shouted. “Nate, over here now!”
Oh no. I itched to help, but had no idea how. Nate cast an antichoking spell and Glenn, turning a deep shade of purple, shook his head. He slumped over and Nate, Sam, and Hank eased him to the ground.
“Give him some space,” Nate ordered, his deep voice tremulous. He fumbled in his bag as everyone backed up, forming a wide ring around Glenn, who trembled and shook, his breath coming in short pants. Nate poured a vial of red liquid down Glenn’s throat, murmuring some incantation. I held my breath, waiting for some change.
“He’s not choking,” Hank barked. “The spell didn’t work.”
“His allergy!” Maple cried. “Remember his allergy to snake venom.”
“How could we forget it,” Francis grumbled, hovering over Glenn with his sharp-featured stare.
“Suck his blood,” Hank bellowed.
Francis shook his head. “Won’t do any good.”
Hank’s eyes blazed. “Why not?”
Glenn went limp, his head lolling to the side, eyes open and unseeing. Maple shrieked and covered her mouth, and I pulled her close in a hug.
Francis pointed with a long, pale finger. “He’s already dead.”
18
The Investigation
“Everyone, out of the tent.” Amelia pointed with a trembling hand.
“B-but… Glenn.” Sam looked from Amelia to the body on the ground.
Her gray eyes softened. “I know, Sam. But come on.”
Once outside, Amelia shot a firework from her hands. It whizzed up high in the sky and erupted into the shape of a hand, index finger pointed straight down at us. The hand spun slowly, sparking and glittering in red and then white, alternating colors like a police siren.
“What now?” Hank asked, his voice gruff.
Amelia folded her hands. “We wait.”
It didn’t take the police long to arrive, minutes at most. They swept across the field, a team of about eight, cloaked in high-necked navy jackets with gold buttons, led by a short man with a tall blue cap.
“I’m Inspector Bon.” The short man nodded at Amelia. “Where’s the body?”
She stepped toward the tent, but he threw an arm out. “Police personnel only.” Inspector Bon spun on his heel, followed by his officers.
“How he’d know about Glenn?”
Maple pointed at the finger in the sky. “Different colors mean different situations. Red and white means… means someone has died.”
I drew Maple into a hug and watched the officers crouch around Glenn, and then sweep the tent. We waited for hours, the police periodically questioning Amelia.
Maple and I sat in the shade of a big tree, neither of us, or anyone else for that matter, speaking much. Nate even sat near me among the roots, but I couldn’t find the energy to care. Finally, Inspector Bon rejoined us, leaving a couple officers guarding the tent.
“You were right to call us.” Bon nodded at Amelia. “The victim was murdered.”
I gasped and pressed my hands to my mouth.
“No,” Maple breathed.
“Mur-murdered?” Sam rubbed his shoulder and rolled his neck in discomfort.
“Hold on now.” Amelia raised a hand. “Why are you thinking murder?”
“That man,” Inspector Bon pointed back at where Glenn had died. Paramedics had carried his body off some time ago. “That man died of an allergic reaction to snake venom.”
My stomach tightened with sympathy.
“He couldn’t have,” Amelia said. “We were aware of his allergy and banned snake venom from the tent. All of our contestants pass through a magical security field.”
“Exactly.” Bon shifted, standing with his legs spread wider apart, one thin brow cocked in an arrogant grin. “The victim’s bread tested positive for snake venom.”
I gasped, and Rhonda spoke aloud my own thought. “Why would Glenn have put something he was allergic to in his own bread?”
“Unless, he didn’t.” Inspector Bon scanned each of our faces. “You lot were the only ones in the tent today, the only ones with the opportunity to kill.”
Amelia scowled. “These are some very serious accusations, Inspector.”
“Imogen could have done it.”
My stomach seized. Pritney stood, pointing a slender finger at me. “She took his bread, remember? She had it at her station, played with it, had all those strange eggs—maybe one was a snake
egg. She could’ve put the poison in.”
“Hey!” Nate scrambled to his feet.
Pritney shot him a withering look. “She had the opportunity. And she had the motive. We all know she was being eliminated today. She was desperate to stay in, so she murdered Glenn to avoid being ousted.”
“No.” I could barely speak. I wanted to scream the word, but I couldn’t quite catch my breath.
Maple put an arm around my shoulders. “Imogen would never do something like that.”
“Besides,” Hank came up and stood on my other side, “we all left our dough in the pantry. Anyone could have added the poison then. And again, we come back to the means. No one could have gotten snake poison inside the tent.”
I couldn’t quite manage a smile, but I hoped my earnest look let Hank know how much I appreciated him coming to my defense. He glanced at me and nodded.
“The Badlandsss Army.” We all turned to look at Sam. He looked on the verge of tears. “The mark lassst night. We all sssaw it. Thisss could be them.”
I hadn’t even considered that. Could the mysterious, evil group be behind Glenn’s death?
Amelia waved us down. “We don’t even know for sure he was murdered, do we, Inspector? This could all just be a huge mistake.”
Inspector Bon rubbed his hands together. “All I know for sure is that we’ll be questioning each and every one of you individually. Starting now.”
When it came to my turn, they asked me to recount the events of the day over and over again. Occasionally Bon and the two officers who sat with him would throw in a random question along the lines of, “Did you dislike Glenn? Did you want him dead? Why did you kill him?”
I think they intended to trip me up. They grilled me about taking his dough, and no matter how many times I told them it’d been an accident, they continued to act like I’d meant to do it. After an hour and a half, they let me go, and I stumbled back to sit under the tree, exhausted. Finally, after the sun had just set, they released us.
