Once everyone was settled, Professor Puff crossed to the blackboard.

“I was very impressed by all of your entrance exam cakes,” she said, “but one in particular demonstrated a remarkable grasp of a very complicated spell. Aspiring Baker Meringue, would you join me?”

Caramelle had chosen the work-station in front of Lyra’s, but she hadn’t even bothered sitting down after class started. She glided up to the platform.

Professor Puff waved her hand, and a piece of chalk rose into the air, hovering over the blackboard as if held by the professor’s own nimble fingers. “Meringue, what Texture spell did you use for your entrance exam cake?”

“Master Chiffon’s Advanced Aeration Charm,” Caramelle replied.

Another wave of the professor’s hand, and the chalk was moving across the blackboard, spelling out Caramelle’s words.

“A wonderful choice,” Professor Puff said as the chalk made its final marks. “Wonderful, but daring. Audacious, even, especially for a first-year. What made you choose that spell?”

“It’s the one I’m most familiar with. You see, Master Chiffon is my tutor.” Caramelle paused to let that weighty detail sink in. “But I also believe it is the best possible Texture spell for cakes. The only reasonable choice.”

Professor Puff raised her eyebrows, but she seemed pleased. “Bold words. Do explain.”

“Texture is on display in a cake. Mistakes have nowhere to hide. Even the best Flavor or the most beautiful Presentation won’t save a cake if it’s too dry, or too moist, or stodgy, or crumbly. Especially if you have to stack many layers, you need a sponge interior that will support weight while also remaining light and fluffy.”

“That is the age-old problem.” Professor Puff nodded. “So how does Master Chiffon’s spell provide the best solution?”

Caramelle spoke without hesitation, as if she were reading from cards. “Other Texture spells focus too much on moisture. Master Chiffon understands that air is the most important element here. He knows that lightness and stability don’t have to be at odds in a well-made cake. His charm doesn’t try to fight the air, but works with it, letting the cake rest on its strength.”

“Like a glider riding the wind,” Professor Puff said with a smile.

“Yes!” Caramelle’s whole face was alight with enthusiasm. “So instead of sinking, or growing too rigid, the cake floats… when the spell is done correctly.”

“Indeed.” Professor Puff looked out at the other first-years as the chalk continued moving behind her. “I trust you all had the chance to sample Aspiring Baker Meringue’s cake yesterday?”

Everyone nodded. Lyra had only gotten one bite, but she didn’t think she would ever forget it. While the Presentation and Flavor had both been polished, the Texture was absolutely the star of the show. It had been like biting into a decadent cloud.

Professor Puff went on, “That cake was an excellent demonstration of this spell done correctly. Thank you, Aspiring Baker Meringue, for providing that demonstration, and for speaking so eloquently on the subject. It is clear that you have a passion for this baking principle.”

“Oh yes,” Caramelle said. Her eyes were sparkling. “Texture is so exact. It requires total precision. It is absolutely my favorite subject.”

Lyra was struck by the change in her roommate’s demeanor. It wasn’t like she was a different Caramelle, but a more authentic Caramelle, as if a few extra layers had been removed.

Professor Puff, too, seemed to notice. “You will have no arguments from me about the wonder of Texture. Thank you again, Meringue. You may return to your seat for now.”

As Caramelle made her way to the front row, Hyacinth rushed into the room, looking frazzled.

“I apologize, Professor,” Hyacinth said, trying in vain to brush some powdery stains off her light blue apprentice apron. She handed a scroll to the royal blue-aproned teacher. “Here is the report from Professor Honeycomb’s class, with Apprentice Baker Berry’s compliments.”

Professor Puff’s usually placid eyes twinkled mischievously. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Apprentice Baker Razz Berry detained you so long because he was sending compliments to a wrinkled old lady like me.”

Hyacinth blushed furiously, but she was smiling.

Professor Puff unrolled the scroll. Scanning it quickly, she nodded. “Thank you, Roulade. You are just in time for our spell instruction. Would you hand out these cards?”

As Hyacinth moved quickly through the room and deposited a small notecard on every counter, Professor Puff took her place behind the teacher's work-station.

“Today, we will be learning a modified version of Master Chiffon’s Aeration Charm,” she announced. “Apprentice Baker Roulade is giving you a copy of the spell for reference. Now, this is not the advanced spell which Aspiring Baker Meringue used so effectively on her cake. This is a beginner level spell, intended for use in cookie recipes. For the next hour, I would like you to implement this spell in a batch of basic shortbread.”

Lyra heard a faint whimper from Mac.

Professor Puff continued, “Some of you may think this task overly simplistic. I urge you to think again. Shortbread has a very distinct consistency which even highly experienced Texturists can struggle to achieve. Look for the challenge. Even if your first batch goes well, make another. Build the muscle, and always seek to improve. It is a good rule for all your classes this term: approach every task with the question, ‘What can this teach me? What do I need to learn?’”

In the back of the room, Aniseed huffed. Professor Puff pretended not to notice.

“As in your Flavor class, we will not be offering you any assistance. Unlike Professor Honeycomb, though, I ask you not to consult with each other.”

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Her gray eyes swept the room, zeroing in on each student with a keen glance. “I am quite serious about this. There will be a time for collaboration, but today, I wish to get a sense of your individual skill levels. The room should be silent for the next hour. Understood? Excellent. You may begin.”

Lyra knew she was in trouble as soon as she looked at the spell. It seemed like a simple combination of words, but she couldn’t get them to flow straight in her head. She wasn’t used to learning something without setting it to music. Even after reading it through several times, she kept jumbling words or switching out entire phrases.

To make matters worse, this was a spell where tempo mattered. A baker was supposed to say each line at the same speed as their hands were moving. That meant the dough should finish coming together when the baker recited the last line of the charm. A wave of blue light would then roll out from the baker’s hands and sink into the dough, signifying that Texture magic was at work.

Try as she might, Lyra just couldn’t get the rhythm of her words to match her hands. She wasted bowl after bowl of ingredients. Sometimes, she moved too quickly through her mental recitation of the spell. Her fingers couldn’t incorporate the butter fast enough, and the flour crumbled to dry dust. Other times, she recited the spell too slowly, resulting in a dough that was both mushy and stodgily overworked. And not once did even the faintest shimmer of blue light appear over her hands.

Feeling a strange sense of déjà vu, Lyra washed out her bowl for the sixth time and started again.

“Aspiring Baker Treble?”

Head snapping up, Lyra found herself staring into the stern gray eyes of Professor Puff. The Texture headmistress was standing by Lyra’s work-station. Her voice was quiet, but to Lyra, it seemed to echo around the otherwise silent room.

“Are you aware that you were humming, Aspiring Baker Treble?”

Lyra’s heart sank down towards her stomach. “I was not, Professor Puff. I am so sorry.”

“That is quite all right.” The professor’s gaze softened slightly. “We all have nervous habits to grow out of. When I first arrived at the academy, I was a foot-tapper.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Professor Chiffon threatened to glue my feet to the floor with royal icing.” Professor Puff gave Lyra a smile as quiet and firm as her voice. “I trust you will require no such alarming threats.”

Lyra shook her head vigorously. “No, Professor.”

“Very well. Carry on then, Aspiring Baker Treble. Silently.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Tears stung the corner of Lyra’s eyes. She was aware of Boysen trying to get her attention from across the aisle, but she ignored him, focusing with all her might on adding flour, sugar, and butter to her mixing bowl.

What was it Chef Flax had said? ‘Hum, sing — scream if you need to?’

Apparently, Professor Puff operated under her own set of rules… or maybe it was Texture in general.

I knew this class would be the hardest, Lyra thought with a sigh. Pressing her lips together as tightly as she could, she dug her fingers into the bowl for another attempt.

It was no use. The reprimand from Professor Puff, though delivered as gently as possible, had popped the small bubble of confidence Lyra managed to construct in Flavor class that morning. Between trying not to cry and maintaining constant vigilance on her vocal cords to keep them silent, Lyra could barely concentrate on the actual task. It was difficult to get through Master Chiffon’s spell at all, let alone at the exact tempo required for perfect shortbread.

Too soon, but also not soon enough, Professor Puff announced the hour was up. Lyra’s apron was covered with flour, and her hands were slick with butter. She was fairly certain there was a whole tablespoon of sugar in her hair. But the messiness of her appearance was nothing compared to the absolute disaster of the cookies she was pulling out of the oven.

This final batch was simply the last attempt Lyra had been able to squeeze in before running out of time. Desperate for one more chance, she had recited the charm with slow, deliberate care, only to feel the dough solidifying like concrete around her fingers. It was far too dense, but she had no choice but to bake it. Having nothing to present would be worse than failure.

At least we’re not all sampling everybody’s work, she thought glumly as she waited for Professor Puff and Hyacinth to reach her for private assessment. Only two people will know just how bad this shortbread is.

Considering one of those two was the single person in the room she most wanted and needed to impress, this was not a very comforting thought.

Also not-comforting was the obvious praise Professor Puff was lavishing on Caramelle’s cookies. Lyra’s work-station was right behind Caramelle’s, but the professor and Hyacinth kept their voices so low that Lyra couldn’t hear their exact words. Still, their glowing smiles proclaimed ‘Aspiring Baker Meringue’ had proven her Texture skills once again.

Then it was Lyra’s turn.

For all her prim appearance and severe manner, Professor Puff was surprisingly kind. Her eyes did widen with surprise at the first bite of Lyra’s concrete-like shortbread, but she recovered swiftly, speaking warmly of the cookie’s enjoyable Flavor.

“Learning a new spell is always difficult,” she said. “I don’t believe you’ve received much formal instruction in baking magic, have you?”

“No,” Lyra admitted. She thought about adding, None at all, but decided this was not a time for such extreme honesty.

“Yet you have proven yourself capable. We all tasted your entrance cake, and Professor Honeycomb had high praise for your shortbread in her class this morning.” Professor Puff looked to Hyacinth, who nodded vigorously in confirmation. “So give yourself time. Keep practicing this spell. When you come for your full-day Texture lab the day after tomorrow, bring another batch of shortbread with you, representing your best effort and progress between now and then. That is your homework.”

Lyra’s heart was still sitting in her stomach, feeling as heavy as her rock-solid cookies, but she tried to smile. “Thank you, Professor.”

Hyacinth gave Lyra an encouraging smile, then followed Professor Puff to Ginger’s work-station.

The rest of the class was a blur. Lyra sat on her stool, fighting desperately to keep the tears back for a few more minutes. If she could just hold out until the chime rang, and hide in her room through lunch…

The chime did ring, but before Lyra could make her escape, she found her way blocked by Boysen and Ginger.

“Not a word.” Boysen held up his hand as Lyra opened her mouth to protest. “I couldn’t hear what Puff was saying, but it’s clear you’ve had a rough go. I think we all have, this morning.”

Ginger nodded stoutly. “Texture is terrible. I don’t see how anyone can like it.”

“Caramelle seems to,” Lyra pointed out. She looked around, but her roommate was already gone.

“Further proof that The Meringue is not human.” Ginger sighed. “In any case, we’ve been kneaded like dough this morning. We all deserve lunch.”

Mac joined them. To Lyra’s surprise, his coffee-colored skin was glowing.

“That was amazing!” he gushed. “Professor Puff said I’ve got a good grasp of the shortbread variant for the spell. She wants me to experiment with the florentine version!”

Boysen laughed. “If we’ve been kneaded like dough, Mac has risen. Still, we all deserve lunch.”

Lyra hesitated. “I thought I’d just go back to my room, maybe rest up…”

Boysen picked up her bag. “Not a chance. I’m taking your supplies hostage, just to be safe.”

“I need to practice,” Lyra protested. “Professor Puff —”

“You can tell us all about it over lunch,” Ginger said, linking her arm through Lyra’s.

“This is a school for baking, Treble.” Boysen smiled. “Can’t start the term by skipping meals. You’ll forget the whole point of why we’re here.”

Mac scrunched his eyebrows. “To become better bakers?”

Boysen kept his eyes on Lyra. “Almost. Why are we really here, Treble?”

She sighed. “To make things people want to eat.”

“Exactly.” His smile widened into a grin. “So let’s eat.”

Against her will, Lyra felt the Berry grin working its contagious magic. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, and her heart made a feeble lurch back towards its normal place in her chest.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s eat.”