Day Forty-Two
Dear Diary,
I work all night on preparing ingredients. After I finish setting up each item, I mark it off on Bilge’s blackboard. And since it’s me, I also write little comments.
2 sacks of sifted fairy dust? Done.
8 eyes of newt? Gross, but done.
14 pounds of ground-up dragon scales? Done. And my arm is now a limp noodle.
Bilge waddles into the room. “It must go.”
Oinky hides behind Bilge’s ankle. I know that piggy pose. That’s a stance I like to call the guilty Oinky. I’m being asked to leave, yet there’s more to the story here.
I fold my arms over my chest. “What happened?”
“Poppa and Muti are fine,” says Bilge in an over-bright voice. “It should go home.”
Bilge is a terrible liar. The fact that he volunteers that Poppa and Muti are well? It means one thing. Bilge
