“Two tablespoons of newt scales,” Liza read.
Mikhail held the scoop a bare millimeter away from the layer of pale orange powder. “Are you sure? Aren’t we supposed to eat this pie?”
She shrugged and tossed the recipe card toward him. “I trust Chef.”
“But the tetrodotoxins…” He dropped the scoop into the jar of dust and felt his hands stick damply to the leather gloves as his fingers flexed. “We just covered this in magical zoology. I want to check.”
“Non,” Chef said in response to Liza’s frantically waving hand and Mikhail’s stuttered explanation. His eyebrows waggled as he talked, nearly obscuring his eyes. “You have the proper ingredients, oui?”
“The ones that were on the list,” Mikhail answered hesitantly. “The shop clerk fulfilled the order. Mom said she checked it before accepting the order.”
“And you checked as well?” The beaky nose pointed directly at his own from inches above his forehead.
He kicked a stray claw that had fallen onto the kitchen’s stone floor with a sneaker that continued to fight its laces, feeling his face heat at the admonition. “It was pretty overwhelming. I didn’t know anyone sold newts then. Maybe pet stores. Not types of newts.”
“But you would have noticed this. The shop gave you space lizards, oui?” Chef paused for dramatic effect, then twisted his lips into a frown when the partners failed to reach. “The lizards taken into space? By the Americans? Are space lizards no longer worthy of adolescent attention?”
The mumbled French that followed made Liza gasp, but all Mikhail followed were a few words of the rolling flow. Something about video games, the next generation, and — petri dishes of fun? Did Chef mean an arcade?
“Chef, look,” Liza said urgently. She pointed a long finger at the ingredient card. “The recipe for gravity pie doesn’t call for space lizards. Just regular newts.”
“Mais non. C’est impossible.” Chef took off his white hat to reveal a mass of salt and pepper curls, digging among the tufts until a clear pair of reading glasses emerged. “Let me see that.”
Mikhail watched Chef’s eyes flicker back and forth, paling with every line of the recipe.
“Mais non,” Chef whispered. “Without space lizards, this is not anti-gravity pie.”
Mikhail twitched. Magical life skills class had been pretty boring so far…
“Out!” Chef shouted. “Everyone out! Drop everything and get out!”
A girl across the room giggled and reached for her bag. “Chef’s in a temper again,” she informed her partner snidely and at full volume. “Time for some real magic instead.”
“Out! Now!” Red lights flashed into view as sirens followed Chef’s words, bursting with ruby sparks above each kitchen station before screaming wildly around the room to chase the students into the hallway.
Mikhail managed to snag his satchel on as the class hurried toward the lawn. He and Liza had been in the corner furthest from the door, so they pulled up the rear of the small herd. A faded pale pink spark wheezed gently at him before dissipating as the massive doors came into sight over the shoulders of their classmates.
“Wonder what’ll happen?” He murmured to Liza, before realizing one of her floating fire extinguishers was missing. “Hey, where’s Lefty?”
“He stayed behind to help Chef clean up,” she said brusquely, reaching for the open door.
BOOM!
The explosion shook the castle floor and sent Mikhail tumbling onto the sun-warmed stone steps. He peeked up at Liza from where he lay sprawled.
“Well, that was unexpected.”
***
This week’s prompt was from Leigh Kimmel, exploring the unexpected, while my challenge to Cedar Sanderson suggested a travel system gone wrong. Check out more or play along over at MOTE!
