“She probably doesn’t want to bother you since you’re so busy,” I said. “Aren’t you failing English?”
Angeline flushed. “It’s not my fault.”
“Even I know you can’t write an entry on Wikipedia and then use it as a source in your essay.” Sydney had been torn between horror and hysterics when she told me.
“I took ‘primary source’ to a whole new level!”
Honestly, it was a wonder we’d gotten by for so long without Angeline. Life must have been so boring before her.
“You better work on taking your grade to a whole new level.” I sounded nearly as responsible as Sydney. The oven timer went off, and I hurried to take the cupcakes out. “So get back on the bus, stop dreaming up conspiracy theories, and—God. You’re not supposed to leave campus alone!”
Her face showed that was the least of her problems. “I figured you’d give me a ride back and could cover if anyone said anything.”
“My car’s in the shop. You’ve got to get yourself back.” I carefully set the cupcakes on the counter. “Please, please, don’t get caught. Sydney doesn’t need that kind of trouble.”
“Her? I’ll be the one who’s in trouble,” Angeline argued.
“No, because you’ll just get to sit around and wait while she bails you out.” I would’ve preferred Marcus coming to eat Sydney’s birthday gumbo than Sydney sitting in the Amberwood principal’s office tonight, trying to keep Angeline from getting expelled. “Now get back. You’re sneaky. You can get in without them noticing.”
“I still think there’s something going on.” When I refused to play along with that, she nodded to the cupcakes. “Sure I can’t take some back?”
“They’re not ready. They need to be frosted.”
“Frost ’em now. I’ll help. That waiting-until-they’re-cool stuff is a bunch of crap.”
It was another moment I wished I still had full control of spirit so that I could compel her away. Finally—after I rustled up some change for the bus—she left me in peace so that I could finish the rest of my birthday preparations. I cleaned up the apartment and set out candles and then changed into a dark green shirt I knew Sydney liked. By the time that was done, the cupcakes were ready to frost, and when I dared a taste of the gumbo, I discovered Cassie had been right. It was more than soup. It was sublime.
Sydney showed up around eight, coming to a halt as soon as she stepped inside. “It smells like . . . shrimp. And mint. And pineapple.”
“Dinner, dessert, and these.” I pointed to a bright yellow candle. “Just got them. They’re called ‘Hawaiian Siesta.’”
“That’s not even—never mind.” She shut the door and hurried over to kiss me. It was one of those scorching kisses that made me lose track of my surroundings. “My best birthday present so far today.”
“Withhold your judgment,” I said, gesturing grandly to the kitchen.
She followed me in and stared openmouthed. “You actually made a roux?”
“If by ‘made,’ you mean ‘supervised,’ then yes.”
We ate at the coffee table in the living room, sitting on the floor by candlelight like we had two months ago. I’d never imagined she could be more beautiful than she was in that dream of a red dress, but with each passing day, she proved me wrong. We let Hopper come out, and he curled up near Sydney, taking delicate bites of andouille.
I fessed up to my kitchen helpers, which actually seemed to endear me to her further. Jill had been right that imperfection would get me farther than perfection. Sydney’s laughter died down when she recounted her day.
“Zoe was so mad. We’d been doing so well, Adrian! And now our relationship just totally regressed. I told her I was doing stuff for Ms. Terwilliger—like usual—and that it’d be better for us to go out on the weekend for my birthday anyway. More time and all that.” She shook her head. “Zoe didn’t buy it. All the work I’ve done to get in her good graces . . . gone. She went off about how I was neglecting the mission for personal reasons and that I just wanted to postpone the outing so that those creatures could come with us. But that wasn’t even the worst part. I said something I shouldn’t have.”
“That you were already spending your birthday with one of those creatures?” I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. But surely if something too awful had happened, she wouldn’t be here.
Sydney gave me a small smile. “I told her if she really cared about me, then she’d let me do whatever I wanted for my birthday, just like Mom did when I was twelve.”
“What happened when you were twelve?”
“Oh, Mom offered to take us all out for dinner—us girls, Dad was out of town—to celebrate, but I didn’t want to. This book I’d been waiting for had just come out, and the only thing I wanted to do was read it all night.”
“My God,” I said, touching the top of her nose. “You’re adorable.”
She swatted me away. “Anyway, Carly and Zoe really wanted to go out so that they could score a meal, but Mom just said, ‘It’s her birthday. Let her do whatever she wants.’”
“Your mom is cool.”
“Very.” Sydney stared off for several long moments, the candlelight reflecting in her eyes. “Well, mentioning her was the worst thing I could do to Zoe tonight. I’ve been trying to sell her on the idea of testifying for joint custody, in case she really can live both lives with Mom and Dad. I think she was considering it . . . then she asked Dad about it. And, well . . . he had plenty to say. One conversation, and she was completely brainwashed again, so when I brought up Mom, Zoe started going off on how we need to remember what a bad person she is. On and on.” She sighed. “I think the only thing that got me out of our room was when I told Zoe I managed to get her permission to practice three-point turns by herself in the faculty parking lot.”
“Ah, yes, nothing to get a young girl’s heart racing like control of a car. I hear that’s big in the Sage family.”
Her smile was starting to return. “That’s the thing, she’s still so young in many ways. One minute, she wants her license. The next, she’s got the power to call me in for breaking Alchemist rules. It’s dangerous, especially since she thinks she knows everything.”
I gathered our empty bowls and stood up. “And as we all know, only one Sage sister knows everything.”
“Not everything. I don’t know that recipe,” she called. “But I might have to. That was amazing.”
“Maybe we could go to New Orleans instead of Rome.” I put some cupcakes on a plate and gathered up a tiny candle and my lighter. Hopper watched with interest, especially the cupcakes. “Escape plan number thirty-seven: Go to New Orleans and sell overpriced Mardi Gras beads to unsuspecting tourists. No language problems. And I bet it’d be sexy if I learned to talk with a Cajun accent.”
“Sexier, you mean. You know, I bet Wolfe wrestled alligators down in the bayou.”
“I bet he tamed them in order to facilitate his escape from pirates down there.” I returned to the living room and sat beside her with the plate.
“I bet he did both,” she said. We were both silent for a moment and then burst into laughter.
“Okay, birthday girl.” I set one of the cupcakes in front of her and pushed in the little candle. My lighter, despite a month of neglect, lit the wick. “Make a wish.”
Sydney gave me a smile brighter than the flame in front of her and then leaned forward. Our eyes locked briefly, and I felt a bittersweet tug at my heart. What was she wishing for? Rome? New Orleans? Anywhere? She kept the wish to herself, as she should have, and simply blew out the candle.