Despite Caramelle's gloomy warnings about Florentine, the first term flowed by without much ruckus from the anti-Enjoyment crowd.

Professor Genoise leapt on Professor Honeycomb's good-idea train and added 'official Presentation chronicler' to Florentine's list of duties. This unfortunately required Professor Puff to heap the same burden on Rye, just to keep things fair, but he assured her that he didn't mind.

"It's actually helpful," he told the second-years one Monday morning when they gathered in the Texture classroom. "I don't know why it wasn't part of the Apprentice Baker role before. Sure, it's a lot of work, but it forces me to really pay attention. I'll be so much better prepared for my exams."

Florentine and Eclair did not share his enthusiasm. There were rumors that Florentine had tried to appeal to the board about the new assignment. But, since the professors were merely building upon the board's own request for documentation and incorporating it into the academy curriculum, her objections were overruled.

As the term progressed, Lyra became increasingly grateful that the Apprentice Bakers were far too busy to cause any fuss about Enjoyment. She barely had time to think about Enjoyment herself, let alone create brand-new spells.

Pastry quickly proved itself eminently worthy of its tricky reputation in the baking world.

The 'basic pie crust' version of the Shortcrust Spell was only the beginning. Each possible kind of filling required a slight 'tweak' to the spell in all three disciplines. Trickier still, the tweaks were never the same from filling to filling. The second-years soon found themselves memorizing a litany of these variations, from tempo changes to slight rewording to entire additional phrases.

And as soon as they began to get a handle on all the most common uses of the Shortcrust Spell, the professors hit them with the Choux Charm.

Choux pastry was a different beast altogether. For one thing, it was made in a saucepan over a hot stove. Lyra knew she was in trouble the first time Professor Puff demonstrated the process.

"You simply combine butter, milk, water, sugar, and salt," the Texture headmistress explained, narrating her actions as she performed them. "Bring it to a simmer, then add the flour all at once. Stir until the dough forms into a ball. Then mash the dough around the hot sides of the pan to cook the flour. Transfer to a bowl and add the beaten eggs slowly, a tiny bit at a time, and mix thoroughly. Keep adding eggs until the desired shiny, pipeable consistency is achieved."

Lyra hit a mental block with choux. It simply felt wrong to start a pastry recipe on the stove, rather than carefully layering butter and flour with her fingers.

She hoped that magic would help her adjust to the new method, but the Choux Charm gave little assistance. It was simply two lines, different for all three disciplines. The first line was meant to be recited repeatedly while stirring the flour into the saucepan ingredients, and the second while adding the eggs. Lyra struggled even to come up with a simple melody.

"It's so wildly different, depending on how you plan to use the choux," Lyra complained to the other Puff Paragons during one particularly dismal night of review. "Profiteroles are light and quick. Eclairs have a bit more depth. Crullers need time and extra care. Then there's gougères, and craquelin, and paris-brest… Sharps and flats. Paris-brest. How is one tune supposed to adapt to all of that?"

On the other hand, choux inspired no such fundamental disconnect in the other second-years. They rallied around Lyra with characteristic warmth: Boysen's steady encouragement, Caramelle's disciplined work ethic, and several rounds of 'Fortescue the Foppish Fox' tales from Mac. By the time the professors began the pre-exam review which always dominated the last few weeks of term, Lyra was able to approach the choux saucepan without shuddering.

Mostly.

With that dish somewhat managed, Lyra's menu of anxieties shifted to the one first-year holdout against Enjoyment: Aspiring Baker Joconde.

Rye reported that Chantilly's attitude in Texture was abysmal. She kept challenging Professor Puff, stopping just short of accusing the professor of being 'tainted' by 'dangerous new ideas.' The second-years could even hear the girl's shrill voice occasionally in the dining hall, rising above the peaceful din to hold forth about 'centuries of tradition.'

But, to Lyra's deep relief, this bad apple seemed incapable of spoiling the bunch. Rye could rarely stop grinning when he talked about the other first-years. According to him, Marzy alone had enough zest for Enjoyment to counteract a whole bushel of Jocondes. Arch was her staunch ally. Between the two of them, they had the first-years eager to explore any new baking adventures the academy might see fit to add to the curriculum.

Marzy and Arch did occasionally stop by the second-year table to give these reports themselves. Unfortunately, Ginger's assessment had been accurate: Cherry Marzipan's enthusiasm for all things Enjoyment was thoroughly outmatched by her fascination with all things Boysen.

If the Flavor King was anywhere in the vicinity, Marzy was reduced to a squeaking, blushing lump of structurally unsound dough. Arch usually managed to shepherd her back to the first-year table before any truly mortifying exchanges could occur, but the brief interactions always seemed to deprive Boysen of his usual laid-back Berry confidence.

The other second-years recognized Boysen's embarrassment and respectfully ignored any awkward 'Marzipan moments.'

Ginger was not so kind.

"I never would have believed it," she said between chuckles, the last Friday night of first term. "Boysen Berry, certified heartbreaker. What did you do to that poor girl?"

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Boysen pretended not to hear her, focusing all his attention on his bowl of French onion soup.

"I wasn't that bad last year," Lyra whispered to Ginger, mostly in an effort to distract her from tormenting Boysen. "Surely, I wasn't. I mean, I actually had entire conversations with Cardamom. Right?"

"Nope. You weren't this bad." Ginger giggled into her own spoonful of soup, creating bubbles of beef broth against her lips. "Not even close. That's what makes it so funny. All the Self-Presentation spells the Coulis employed, and our own basic Berry has outdone him. Without lifting a finger. Oh, when will I remember to bring popcorn when I come here?"

"Keep it down, Crumble." Lyra elbowed her in the side. "Marzy might hear you."

"Maybe she should." Ginger laid down her spoon and peered at Boysen. "In fact, maybe all that sweet little lovesick girl needs is some immersion therapy."

Lyra's heart sank at the all-too-familiar 'experiment-happy' fire blazing in her friend's eyes. "Meaning?"

"Meaning the Berry should spend some time with her. Offer to cook her dinner or something."

"Like a date?" Mac asked incredulously.

The experimental fire in Ginger's eyes sparked higher. "Exactly. Boysen should ask Marzy on a date."

Boysen's spoon clattered into his bowl as he choked and coughed. Only a lifetime of 'meal manners' training under Mrs. Berry's watchful eye kept him from spewing beef broth across the table.

"I — what?" he finally managed to gasp.

"Think about it!" Ginger replied, cheerfully passing him the water pitcher. "It worked for Lyra. She spent all that time with Cardamom second term, and by the end, she was thoroughly cured of the Coulis plague."

"That's because Cardamom is a rotten, spoiled lump of overspun sugar. The more you get to know him, the less you like him," Caramelle said calmly. "That wouldn't work with Boysen."

Ginger continued staring at Boysen, her eyebrows scrunched up in true 'Crumble Concentration.' "True… but I still think it's worth a try. And who knows, Berry? You might even enjoy yourself!"

"I — um —" Boysen's eyes darted desperately to Mac, but the bespectacled boy seemed determined not to enter the conversation. Mac stuffed an entire hunk of toasted baguette into his mouth and started chewing, apparently afraid of what words might slip out if he did talk.

"Could be helpful in the Enjoyment quest too," Ginger wheedled. "Strengthening the ties with the first-years. We need all the help we can get. You're a team player, aren't you, Berry?"

"Oh, stuff it, Ginger!"

Every head at the table whipped towards Lyra. Only then did she realize it was her own voice that had issued the harsh command.

"I… I just mean…" Lyra glanced around, her eyes landing on Caramelle. Drawing inspiration from the Meringue's famous diligence, Lyra continued briskly, "This is the Royal Academy of Magical Baking, after all. We don't have time for… all that. Dates and such. We are here to learn how to be better bakers. Right?"

Caramelle nodded. "Exactly. What is it that Boysen's always saying? We're here to make things for people to eat."

"Things for people to eat," Lyra repeated. Turning to Boysen, she gave him her best encouraging smile, the one that had always snapped her brothers out of pre-show jitters. "No time for dates. Right?"

He stared at her for two full beats, his mouth hanging open. Then he sighed and looked down at his plate.

"Right. No time for dates."

"Salts, you lot are no fun," Ginger grumbled.

"Can you blame us? The first term exam is tomorrow!" Caramelle countered. She turned to Mac. "Exactly how many varieties of the Shortcrust Spell did we have to memorize for each discipline?"

With great effort, Mac swallowed his baguette in one giant gulp so he could answer. "Twenty-six. That's two baker's dozen."

"Twenty-six for each baking discipline. Seventy-eight in total. And the same for the Choux Charm." Caramelle turned back to Ginger. "Your parents own a pastry shop. You should understand!"

"I do understand." Ginger took a long, reflective sip of her soup before continuing. "I understand exactly how stressful baking can be. Stressful, and all-consuming. We can get our heads buried so deeply into a recipe, wondering what's missing, that we can't see the best ingredient that's just sitting there. On the counter, right in front of us. Waiting."

Suddenly, she stuck her spoon in Lyra's face. "Right under our very nose."

Another few beats of silence descended on the table. Lyra pretended to be absorbed in her apple and pecan salad, unable to meet Ginger's eyes.

"And that's why you need people like me," Ginger finally concluded. Digging her spoon into soup again, she slurped her next bite with extra noisy relish. "I help shuffle the ingredients around. Break you out of your stodgy, overbaked menu into daring new dishes. Speaking of 'daring', how's that fox of yours doing, Fondant?"

"Oh, he told the sweetest story the other day," Caramelle gushed. "About pocket squares. Tell it again, Mac! Please?"

Mac flushed with pleasure. "Well, remember when Fortescue started experimenting with cravats? Now he's on to pocket squares. They're supposed to match your cravat, or tie, or something. Apparently. But he was having a hard time finding a pocket square small enough for him, so he cut up what he thought was a pile of old handkerchiefs, but they were actually my Uncle Hazelnut's best cravats that my dad had borrowed…"

Mac and Caramelle kept the conversation going through the rest of dinner, regaling Ginger with alternating tales of the foppish fox and 'night before the exam' woes. Lyra was exceedingly grateful to both of them. She kept her eyes on her food, shoveling in bites of salad and soup and bread with methodical efficiency. To her left, Boysen was doing the same thing. At least, so far as she could tell from the brief flashes she kept getting in her peripheral vision.

She didn't dare look at him. Every time her eyes even started wandering in the Flavor King's direction, her insides erupted in a chaos of discordant melodies. She couldn't hear herself think above the din, let alone sort all the tunes into recognizable categories.

There were all the usual stressors, of course. The conflicting harmonic progression of 'shortcrust shivers' was well known to her nerves at this point, as was the uniquely jarring rhythm of the 'choux chills.' The 'general academy anxiety' chorus was practically an old friend. The next day's looming exam had added a whole new jitter-inducing descant. Then there was the ever-present uncertainty about the future of Enjoyment: a slow, deep, unrelenting train of minor chords which appeared to have taken root in her soul.

Lately, though, another song had been surfacing through Lyra's constant internal sea of sound. The tune felt familiar, like it had been around for a while, but she couldn't remember when or how it had made its appearance. She certainly knew it had never been this loud before. Not as loud as it was right now, at this dinner table… especially whenever she caught a glimpse of her Berry wonderful friend.

It was comforting. It was alarming. It was… layered.

Like pastry, she thought with a sigh as a platter of cream puffs floated down onto the table. And I have enough of that in my life already. I don't need another layered mystery to work out.

A voice that sounded remarkably like Ginger's tried to poke into Lyra's thought-space. The voice insisted that Lyra did know exactly what this song was, and what it meant. There was no layered mystery here. There was only a truth she would have to face sooner or later.

The best ingredient, waiting right in front of her…

Lyra sighed again, stabbing a cream puff onto her plate with what her mother would call 'unnecessary zeal.'

Oh, stuff it, Ginger.

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