The four new third-years stood in the common area for a moment, gazing around at the long-awaited third floor of the academy dormitory.

"Have you two already picked out your rooms?" Lyra asked Caramelle and Mac.

"You do not 'pick out' a room in third year," Caramelle exclaimed. "Remember that we are Apprentice Bakers now. We take the room associated with our chosen discipline. I'm in 'Sponge.' That's the Texture room."

She pointed to the door immediately to the right of the common area entrance. Lyra recognized the hand-drawn picture underneath the 'Sponge' nameplate. It was the same as the silver pin worn by Master Chiffon, Royal Chef of Texture: two rolling pins, crossed.

"And I'm in Spectacle. The Presentation room."

Mac glumly indicated the door in the back left corner. Squinting, Lyra could barely make out the picture of a palette knife, just like the golden pin she'd seen on the apron of Madame Patisserie, Royal Chef of Presentation.

"Not looking forward to it, honestly," Mac went on. "Considering the last two occupants of that space."

Boysen nodded gravely. "Florentine Clafoutis and Cardamom Coulis. The Third. I neither blame nor envy you, Fondant."

"Mac will restore true beauty to that room," Caramelle said. "If anyone can do it after two such sacks of sugar, he can."

"Well said, Meringue." Boysen was already heading towards the door in the back right corner. "At least Fondant doesn't have to deal with a few generations of Berrys. I know Razz graduated a year ago, but I bet 'Spice' over here still smells like him."

"I'm sure Eclair Tatin drove out any lingering traces of your brother's Flavor last year," Caramelle assured him dryly.

Lyra noted the picture on Boysen's door, which was a perfect rendition of the copper mortar-and-pestle pin worn by the Royal Chef of Flavor, Lord Nougat. (Or, as he was known around the Berry household, 'Uncle Nougie.') She nodded to each door in turn, savoring the academy's characteristic flair for alliteration.

"Sponge for Texture, Spice for Flavor, Spectacle for Presentation… what do you suppose they named the new Enjoyment room?"

Boysen did a quick about-face and joined the other three as they crowded around the one remaining door, directly across from Sponge. There was a short, shocked silence.

"'Spot'?" Boysen read aloud, his voice high with incredulity. "Where in the name of all the seasonings did they get that idea?"

"I remember Professor Puff talking about this at our last meeting," Caramelle said hesitantly. "She mentioned something about the difficulty in finding a 'sp' word for Enjoyment."

"What about 'splendor'?" Mac suggested. "Spellbinding? Sparkle? Spanakopita?"

"Spanakopita?" Boysen repeated, his voice rising even higher.

Mac shrugged. "It brings me Enjoyment. Now that I'm safely through pastry year, I mean, and don't have to make it anymore."

Lyra was staring at the picture hanging on the door. It was a hand-drawn depiction of a very familiar cake: her exam cake from first year, complete with frosted roses and ribbon. The cake that had unlocked Enjoyment for her and for the world only a few months ago.

That pre-show sensation she had experienced at the gate swelled in volume, filling her insides with a chorus of warmth.

"'Splendor' is a lot to live up to," she said softly. "So is 'Spellbinding.' But 'Spot'… I think I get it. Anything made with Enjoyment brings an extra dose of joy to the eater. It's a satisfying experience. It… 'Hits the spot,' right?"

"Yes. Exactly." Caramelle nodded in diligent solidarity. "I am sure that's what the professors were going for."

Mac's face was doubtful. "I guess that makes sense. But… 'Spot'? Really?"

Boysen looked like he partly agreed with Mac, but a glance at Lyra shifted his face into a determined smile. "Enjoyment does 'hit the spot.' And I think we're all in agreement that Lyra is a 'bright spot' in the academy's existence, right?"

"Thanks, but it's not about me," Lyra protested. "The discipline is bigger than me. Remember? It's about the whole baking community."

"Which would still be laboring on in triangle-land without you," Boysen replied.

Caramelle reached out a finger and delicately traced the lines of the pictured cake. "He's right, Lyra. This room has never had a regular occupant until this year. It was always just held in reserve for academy guests and overflow baking work, like the fourth rooms on the other two floors."

"And now it's the official residence of the first-ever fourth Apprentice Baker in academy history." Boysen also pointed at the picture. "With your exam cake on the door. Like it or not, Treble, you've changed the baking world forever."

"In a room called Spot," Mac muttered.

"We changed the baking world forever," Lyra corrected him. "We're all… 'bright spots.'"

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Boysen threw his arms into the air in victory. "And there's our name for this year! First Whisk Whizzes, then Puff Paragons… I assume I'll still be hosting, so how does 'Spice Spots' strike you?"

"Perfect," Caramelle said stoutly.

Lyra grinned. "I like it. 'Spice Spots'… you can't say it without smiling. It's that fun."

"Not quite as fun as 'Spice Sparkles,'" Mac began, then sighed. "But we work with the recipe given to us, I suppose."

"Spoken like a true Spice Spot." Boysen stepped back into a bow, indicating the door. "Would you start us off, Apprentice Baker Treble?"

Lyra gladly obliged, and the 'Spice Spots Move-In Day' began in earnest.

The third-floor rooms contained few surprises, of course. They were almost the same layout as the rooms on the first and second floors: a living area on the right, with a couch and armchair gathered around a magical indoor firepit; a desk and chair on the left, next to a small bookcase, an even smaller wardrobe, and a single bed; and, of course, the large kitchen straight ahead, taking up half the room.

The only true difference was the bathroom. The first-years and second-years lived in suites, with two Aspiring Bakers sharing the bathroom between their rooms. But each third-year room was equipped with its own full bathroom, for which everyone was quietly and fervently grateful.

Even more exciting was the stack of aprons folded neatly on Lyra's bed.

"Pale yellow," she whispered, stroking the starched material in wonder. "It's real. I'm an Apprentice Baker for Enjoyment."

Caramelle insisted they go immediately to Sponge to see her new light blue 'Texture apprentice' aprons. They then had to rush to Spice and Spectacle to marvel at Boysen's pale green Flavor aprons and Mac's light purple Presentation uniform.

After giving all four rooms this ceremonial first visit as a group, the new Apprentice Bakers separated for unpacking and general settling-in, with a promise to meet back in the common room in half an hour.

It didn't take Lyra long to stow her clothes in the wardrobe and place her guitar carefully under the bed. Then she lingered for a moment over her growing collection of magical baking tomes and notebooks, smiling at the memory of her first move-in day. She'd been so intimidated by Caramelle's overflowing bookcase, especially since the only baking book Lyra had possessed at the time was a battered copy of Cakes, Magic, and You her dad had found at a secondhand shop.

Now she examined the well-known titles fondly, greeting the tomes as familiar friends before arranging them on the shelves.

"Master Glaze's Memoirs, how kind of you to join us. Madame Dacquoise's Tenets of Texture, always a slightly intimidating pleasure. Sweet & Savory: A Well-Seasoned History, compiled by various experts… A Knack for Kneading, by Madame Brioche… Presenting Precision, by Madame Temper…"

One by one, the collected baking knowledge of generations took its place on Lyra's shelves, each volume showing signs of frequent use. Last of all came the two jewels of her collection: Cakes, Magic, and You, its binding now held together only by string and hope, and a brand-new edition of The Berry Basics. Mr. and Mrs. Berry had released this updated version over the summer, and given a signed copy to Lyra as a birthday gift.

She gave the gleaming cover an affectionate pat, placed the book on the center shelf in a position of honor, and turned to her notebooks. These took up two entire shelves on their own. Lyra again found herself thinking of Caramelle, this time with gratitude for her friend's help over the last two weeks. Thanks to the Texturist's talent for organization, Lyra's notes were now in chronological order, with lyrics and chord charts filed neatly by the baking spell they were meant to be paired with.

Once every book, notebook, and scroll was safe in its new home, she stood up and surveyed the bookcase.

"You're still not nearly as packed as Caramelle's are going to be," she said to the comfortably full shelves. "But definitely a respectable showing. One might even start to think I know what I'm doing."

She could have sworn the cover of The Berry Basics winked at her. Accepting this as affirmation, she winked back and turned to spread her belongings luxuriously over the bathroom.

Her bathroom. Her own private third-year suite.

Lyra rather thought she was going to enjoy being an Apprentice Baker.

—

"What now?" Mac asked, once the four Spice Spots had reassembled in the common room. "It's not quite time for lunch."

"Almost," Boysen said longingly.

"I'd like to get down to the kitchens." Already wearing one of her new pale yellow aprons, Lyra was tying her hair up in the pale yellow scarf she'd found in its pocket. "But that can wait until after lunch. I'm sure Chef Flax could use some help this afternoon preparing the welcome feast."

"You mean Professor Flax?"

Lyra froze at Caramelle's words. "Sharps… I didn't even think about that."

"Flax can't very well hold two full-time jobs at once," Boysen mused. "So who is the head chef this year?"

"I guess that would be the board's decision," Mac said.

They all looked at Caramelle, but she shook her head. "Master Chiffon didn't say anything about it when I saw him this summer. Neither did my parents. What about Lord Nougat, Boysen?"

Boysen shrugged. "Nothing from Uncle Nougie except excitement about Enjoyment. And some new recipes I'll have to make for our first Spice Spot Recreation."

Lyra was still frozen. Somehow, in all her joy for the former head chef's new role and the whirlwind of preparing for the year, she hadn't acknowledged all the implications of a 'Professor' Flax.

"Oh… no," she whispered.

"What's wrong?" Boysen asked immediately.

"It just hit me." She swallowed down a wave of unexpected tears. "What about all those times in the kitchen with Chef? We have so many special memories there. It's… it's not going to be the same at all."

"Of course not," Caramelle said briskly, though Lyra detected a quavering note in the auburn-haired girl's voice. "But I am sure the board has selected a worthy person to fill such an important role. Wouldn't you agree, Mac?"

Mac's eyes were definitely watery behind his glasses, but he squared his shoulders and nodded. "Absolutely. And Bumble will still be there, I'm guessing, with Sprinkle. They'll make sure everything stays on-menu."

"The recipe won't be the same." Boysen put his arm around Lyra, gently forcing her shoulders to relax. "And I can't imagine how it could be better. But I think we can trust it'll still be good… just a new Flavor of 'good.' Right?"

Lyra didn't trust herself to speak. The chorus of anticipation that had been singing gaily through her mind only moments before had halted abruptly, replaced by an aching silence. Still, she managed to give her friends a small nod.

"Why don't we go see Queen Penelope?" Mac suggested. "Then lunch, and… we'll see how we feel?"

Caramelle beamed at him. "Oh, what a splendid idea! Thank you, Macaron."

"Inspired," Boysen agreed, giving Lyra's shoulder a squeeze. "Spice Spots, to the roof of the main hall!"

They proceeded down the stairs and along the stone path outside the dormitory, all making a concerted effort to keep the conversation flowing and Flax-free. Mac proved the champion in this endeavor. He produced a whole batch of new stories about Fortescue the Foppish Fox and recounted them with infectious enthusiasm.

By the time they reached the main hall and began making their way up the many flights of stairs to the roof, Lyra found herself smiling. She even joined in the hearty laughter over Mac's imitation of Fortescue's pained 'fashion faux pas' expression. They were all still laughing when Boysen threw open the door to Queen Penelope's rooftop perch.

"Razz?" The Flavor King halted on the threshold, staring at the pair seated by Queen Penelope. "Hyacinth? What are you doing here?"

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