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Back Salt and Sugar Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. EPILOGUE
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Salt had been booked to cater a small wedding reception, but the Molinas spread rumors in the neighborhood that we had a rat infestation in our kitchen. The rumors got to the client, who then fired us. It broke Grandma’s heart, and shortly after that, she went to the hospital.

Sugar is showing off. Excitement is plastered on their faces like they just saw the Brazilian soccer team score seven to one against Germany. Only they’re the ones who scored. This catering gig was supposed to be ours! They stole it from us!

“They’re a villainous lot capable of anything,” Mom says, rushing past us like an arrow back into Salt, Grandma’s friends on her heels.

I hate the Molinas.

I can’t hold back my tears anymore. They roll down my cheeks hot with anger. Instead of returning to Salt, I march across the street toward the group of junior bakers bringing out the catering trays.

How dare you sabotage my family? I’ll say to them. How dare you spread lies and steal our client? How dare you rub your treacherous victory in now, knowing we’re in mourning? How dare you laugh tonight?

“How dare—!”

I don’t get any other words out because just then my foot strikes something unmoving and one second, I’m vertical. And then—

I’m not.

“Watch out!” Dona Eulalia shouts, and I realize soon enough that it’s not for my sake.

I spread my arms to catch myself just as someone carrying a giant three-tier wedding cake steps out of Sugar. The cake is so tall I can’t even see the person carrying it, just a mountain of white glaze. My hands sink into it, reaching the golden brown inside. I topple forward, taking the cake and the person carrying it down with me in one big, sugary crash.

4

FRIDAY, APRIL 22

There must have been a bride and groom topper on the wedding cake, because I spot the decapitated groom’s head rolling to the curb. Grandma would have pointed out this could be a bad omen for the marriage.

Well, I guess it’s a sign alright. A sign that I’m in serious trouble.

My face is covered in icing, and my hair sticks to my cheeks with sugar. There’s screaming all around me. And one of the strangled cries is coming from underneath me. I look down through the smeared lenses of my glasses to find a pair of eyes staring right back.

Wait... I know these eyes. Big, round, light brown. Molina eyes.

I can’t believe I just crashed into the bully of my childhood. My rival at school and in the neighborhood. The seventeen-year-old baker prodigy who is Seu Romário’s grandson. Pedro Molina.