The Magic Cake Shop by Meika Hashimoto Page B

and Albie jumped. They followed the thumps to the middle of the aisle. All of a sudden, the shelves ended, leaving a deep, wide space.
    Inside the space was an enormous glass jar.
    Inside the jar, giant, pink, warty blobs dashed against the glass at terrific speeds. Emma watched as they hit the jar and flattened like pancakes before pulling themselves into blobs again and zinging to the other side.
    “Aha! There you are.” Mabel strode down the aisle. “I’ve got all your ingredients but the biddle hegs—oh, you’ve found them!” She popped open the enormous jar and whistled a strange, high note three times.
    Three of the pink blobs zoomed out of the jar and landed with a
thump thump thump
in her hand. Mabel neatly tipped them into a box and sealed it. “And that should do it!” She checked a tiny silver watch that dangledfrom her slim wrist. “Now, I know Gregor will be eager to get to work on the elixir, but I think we have a few moments for you two to see the best part of this place.” She beckoned to Emma and Albie. “Come this way.”
    They followed her to a corner of the shop, where a thick black curtain hung over a doorway.
    “Step through, please,” said Mabel.
    Through they went.
    They were in a pitch-black room. The sights and sounds and smells of the spice shop entirely disappeared. “Close your eyes for ten seconds to let them adjust, then open them,” Mabel said.
    Emma shut her eyes, counted, and then slowly opened them. And for the second time that day, she took a small, quiet breath.
    She was surrounded by glowing, swirling flecks of colored light. They pooled and eddied softly inside glass bottles, bumping one another with the gentleness of floating bubbles. They looked weightless and very, very fragile.
    “They’re lovely,” Albie sighed.
    “What are they?” whispered Emma.
    “Dust from the aurora borealis. They can only be gathered at midnight at the winter solstice.”
    “What do they do?”
    “They make anything taste as light as air.”
    Emma watched the gleaming speckles shimmer anddance. She wondered whether she would see anything more beautiful in her life.
    “Makes you glad to be alive,” Mabel said softly.
    They stood silently, until they heard Mabel say gently, “Time to go.”
    Tugging their eyes away, Emma and Albie headed back to the lights and smells of the spice shop.

W hen they returned to the spice-shop counter, Emma, Albie, and Mabel found Mr. Crackle looking slightly better. As Mabel packaged their ingredients into neatly labeled jars and plastic packets, Mr. Crackle brought over the dessert box. Once the jars and packets had been labeled, he slid them inside.
    “Make sure you separate the biddle hegs from the wibbly cobbyseed,” cautioned Mabel.
    “What will happen if we don’t?” asked Emma.
    “If they touch each other, they form a vapor that turns your head into a pumpkin. It’s painful.”
    “Oh,” said Emma.
    “Don’t worry, in all the years I’ve known him, Gregor has made only two cooking mistakes,” said Mabel.
    Mr. Crackle, who had just finished putting the last ingredient in the box, suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Now, Mabel, there’s no need to talk about the past.”
    Mabel’s lips twitched, just slightly. “Suit yourself.”
    “What did you do, Mr. Crackle?” Albie asked. “Did you ever give anyone a case of the runs?”
    Mr. Crackle sighed. “It was a little more dramatic. I once overestimated the amount of aurora borealis dust I was supposed to put in a chocolate soufflé.”
    Albie’s eyes widened. “Is that the same dust we just saw?”
    Mabel nodded. “It is a beautiful but dangerously potent ingredient.”
    “What happens when you eat too much?” Emma asked.
    Mr. Crackle dropped his head. “The fellow who ate the soufflé shrank to the size of a gingerbread man and floated out of the shop. I had to chase him down with a butterfly net and feed him rock candy to put him right.”
    “And what was your second