Sugar Squad

Chapter 5 - Bakery on the Fritz

How did someone so soft end up being one of my captors?

The question wouldn’t leave Bel alone as he watched Marshmallow walk ahead of him. Everything about her was different from the others. While Cinnamon and Pepper moved with greater rigidity and Ginger bounced around chaotically, Marshmallow simply flowed. There was a jiggle with each step; her chest, hips and rump looked to be made of gelatine.

Bel had to bite his tongue to keep another cruel comment from spilling out. He’d already taken one shot at her, and she’d just smiled through it. As if it didn’t register. That bothered him more than if she’d got angry.

Focus on something else.

“If you guys can fly, then why are we walking to this bakery?”

Marshmallow glanced back at him. “There’s no point in wasting energy if we don’t have to. This way, we’re always prepared if something really bad happens.”

Except for yesterday, he thought.

They walked through the main town of Candy Cane City, as Marshmallow had called it. The architecture felt both surreal and strangely familiar; it was as if someone had taken the narrow streets of New York and rebuilt them out of a child’s Christmas dream. The buildings were pressed together and, instead of being made of concrete and steel, everything looked like gingerbread. Roofs curled like frosting. Windows were framed with icing. Some buildings sported what looked like gumdrop decorations along the walls.

Yet unlike New York’s endless skyline, these structures maxed out at around six floors.

Compared to last night’s chaos, the streets were tranquil. A few other elves were out—mostly mothers with young children bundled in colourful scarves. One child, no older than four, was stomping enthusiastically in a puddle of slush while her mother tried to stop her.

“So school still exists here?” Bel wondered aloud.

“Of course.” Marshmallow began to walk backwards, facing him. “We enter once we’re five and leave once we’re sixteen. From what Ginger tells me, our schools are notably more advanced than the ones in…New York Country.”

“It’s a state,” he corrected. “And how does that stupid Ginger ho know everything about my country while you don’t? Aren’t you supposed to be an elite team?”

“My bad.” She smiled and shrugged. “We all have different experiences. And Ginger’s spent more time in the human world than any of us. It’s a bit of an obsession of hers.”

She spun back around when something else caught her attention. Bel followed her gaze.

Two little girls, maybe six or seven years old, were playing on swings in a small playground. The chains were impossibly high, and the girls were soaring through the air at heights that would’ve killed a human child. They shrieked with laughter.

“That was me and my sister at that age,” Marshmallow said softly. “We used to compete to see who could swing the highest. She always won.”

Bel’s expression shifted. The annoyance faded, replaced by something more distinct.

He stared at the two girls, noticing the way the younger one kept looking back at the older one for approval. His chest tightened.

“Everything okay?” Marshmallow had stopped walking. She was now two metres ahead of him. “Does it remind you of your sister?”

Bel’s head snapped up. “No! My sister’s an idiot, and I frankly wouldn’t mind if I erased all memories from my mind.” He stormed past Marshmallow, his fists clenched at his side.

You told her you hoped she’d never wake up. The memory hit him like a gut punch.

Marshmallow caught up to him easily. She adjusted her sleeves and changed the subject with a lighter tone of voice. “Ooh, I can already tell my feet are gonna be sweating up a storm when we get to that bakery.”

Bel winced. “Please don’t put that in my head.”

“Too late,” she giggled, bumping his shoulder. “Hey, we’ll both be sweaty together. You can take solace in that, right?”

“Ew…”

They approached the bakery: a two-storey building adorned with a cheerful rolling-pin-shaped sign. Condensation fogged the windows. Even from outside, Bel could smell the sugar.

Marshmallow paused at the door. “You know, after we’re done in there, my flats are probably going to be completely soaked. I might have to kick them off and air my feet out for a bit.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“I’m just preparing you.” She wiggled her toes inside her shoes. “I get you’re worried, but my feet aren’t going to hurt you. They’re just feet. Warm, maybe a wee bit sweaty, but absolutely harmless.”

“They’re not harmless.”

She popped her heel out her shoe. Bel gasped and grasped the nearest streetlamp.

“You’re not hurt.” She slid her foot back in. “See? What’s there to be scared of?”

She’s insane… They’re all insane. This whole place is insane!

Marshmallow opened the door with an “after you” gesture. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Bel entered the bakery.

The warmth hit him hard. After the cold outside, it felt like walking into an oven. The scent of sugar, butter and yeast was so overwhelming that he could taste it.

The interior was busy. Display cases lined the walls, filled with pastries that ranged from familiar to completely alien. He recognised croissants, muffins and what looked like cinnamon rolls. But there were also things he couldn’t identify, such as spiralling pastries that seemed to glow. Before him lay one particularly strange item: a long, white stick covered in what looked like salt crystals.

“That’s a sneeuwzoutstok,” Marshmallow explained.

“A what?”

“SNAY-oo-zowt-stok.” She licked her lips unconsciously. “You guys don’t have those? It’s like a salty yet creamy pretzel. As common here as…I guess chips are for you.”

“If you come here a lot,” Bel said flatly. “I’m surprised there are any left.”

Marshmallow’s smile finally flickered. “You know, it’s not too nice to say that so much.”

“So being honest is a crime now?”

She just looked at him for a moment. Why did he keep taking shots at her? Even with his stated problems with girls, she couldn’t quite understand why he was so rude. But she didn’t let this sour the mood.

“Let’s find out what the problem is.”

Good, Bel thought. Maybe she’ll finally feel sad or mad. Maybe she’ll stop being so— But the thought died.

Marshmallow approached the counter and knocked on it. “How may I help you?” she asked the elf behind the register.

“Um…” The cashier blinked twice. “Oh no… You’re that Sugar Squad girl.”

“Yep!” Marshmallow beamed. “Ready to serve!”

“Is there no one else who can handle this? Really? The one who never stops talking is the only one available?”

“I see no one else storming in here, so Y-E-S.”

“At last!” A burly elf in a giant, puffy baker’s hat burst through the kitchen door, nearly knocking over a display. “Marshmallow! Thank goodness! Must I catch you up to speed on what’s happening?”

“The briefing text was a little vague, Chef Yansen.”

“Vague? But I was as exact as possible!” The baker wrung his hands, flour dusting the air around him. “One of my creations has transformed into a menace. It’s trapped in the proofing room. The thing even constricted poor Nikolas here for five whole minutes. Can you believe it?”

“Show me, please.” Marshmallow firmly grabbed Bel’s arm. “This is Bel. He’ll be staying with us for a while.”

Nikolas groaned loudly. “Because we really needed a fifth one of you crazies.”

Chef Yansen smacked him upside the head. Then he turned to Bel with a warm smile. “A pleasure to meet you, son. Now follow me.”

Yansen led them to the kitchen, passing various other workers along the way. Having been in the cold for so long, the heat nearly tore Bel’s skin off. He slipped onto the floor with a yelp.

“Careful now,” said Yansen, hoisting him up. “The last thing you want to do is fall into an oven.”

“Oven?” As Bel looked around, he noticed that some of the ovens were traditional. Perhaps old-fashioned, but ovens nonetheless. However, there were also holes in the floor surrounded by a three-inch wall. And if he put his hand above one of these openings, it felt as if he were inches away from a stove. “Okay, definitely not trying to fall in there.”

“I feel like I’m standing in two pots of tea,” Marshmallow panted. She lifted a foot, and Bel heard the distinct squelch of her sole wriggling in its prison.

Somehow that one sound overpowered all the noise of clinking.

Yansen pulled out a ring of keys. He selected one that looked like a tiny croissant and used it to unlock a heavy door at the back of the kitchen.

“Behold,” he said, stepping aside. “The mother of all monsters.”

Marshmallow and Bel peered inside.

In the centre of the small room, a perfect-looking doughnut sat on a metal pedestal. It was covered in shimmering rainbow sprinkles. The frosting gleamed.

“This is the threat?” Marshmallow asked slowly.

“Approach it and you’ll see why.”

Marshmallow’s expression hardened. “With all due respect, sir, my team is on very thin ice right now. If this is a prank, our leader is not gonna be happy.”

“A prank? I do not play games with the safety of my customers! Listen: this invention of ours was meant to be an enhanced doughnut, borrowing just a sprinkle of chemicals from the human world to improve the flavour. And now…” He gestured at the pastry. “Hey, little boy! I wouldn’t get too close if I were you!”

Marshmallow gasped. Bel was already halfway across the room, walking straight towards the doughnut.

“I’ll just eat it if you’re all so scared,” he called back, smiling. “Human chemicals? Not a problem.”

“Son, I implore you not to do that!” Yansen screamed.

“Bel, you heard him! Please listen!” Marshmallow took a step forward, her hands raised. “That’s an order!”

“I ain’t your pet.” He stuck his middle finger up at her.

Marshmallow’s eye twitched. Her smile was still plastered on her face, but it was strained now.

“Please, Bel? I’m asking nicely.”

“And I’m nicely telling you to fuck off, fatty.” He reached the pedestal and grabbed the doughnut, lifting it triumphantly. He spun it around his finger like a hoop. “Watch this. Problem solved.”

“Bel, don’t—!”

“I’m doing it.” He opened his mouth wide and moved to take a massive bite.

The doughnut vanished from his hand.

“What the—?”

The room echoed with the sound of stretching rubber. Bel looked up just in time to see the doughnut descending from the ceiling. Now it was the size of a car tyre. It slammed down around his waist.

The air rushed out his lungs. His arms were instantly pinned to his sides, trapped in the sticky frosting lining the doughnut’s inner ring.

“That’s what I tried to warn you about!” Yansen shrieked, backing towards the doorway.

“See? It being alive wasn’t in the briefing at all!” Marshmallow’s voice went shrill. Sweat already dripped from her forehead. “Sentient pastries should be flagged as high-risk situations!”

Bel wriggled and twisted, trying to pull his arms free. But the frosting acted like glue, holding him fast. The doughnut’s ring began to tighten.

“Get it off!” he shouted, his voice panicked. “It’s… It’s squeezing me!”

“I’m coming!” Marshmallow charged forward. The moment she got within a few feet, the doughnut pulsed. The sprinkles on its surface began to glow, then launched themselves at her.

She threw her arms up. The sprinkles hit her as hard as pebbles. They stung her arms, even through her suit. Gritting her teeth, she pushed on and used her magical resistance to weather the storm. But there were too many, and they wouldn’t stop coming.

“It’s regenerating them!” She stumbled back.

The doughnut pulsed again. The pressure around Bel’s waist intensified. He let out a strangled yelp.

“What’s it doing to him?” Marshmallow turned to Yansen.

“Same thing it did to Nikolas!” The chef was pressed against the doorframe now. “It constricts like some serpent made of pastry!”

Bel’s face was turning blue. His breathing came in ragged gasps.

“Hang on, Bel!” Marshmallow launched herself again, ducking low to avoid the worst of the sprinkle hailstorm. She grabbed the doughnut’s outer edge with both hands. “Gotcha!”

The doughnut began to spin.

Bel screamed as he was whipped around. Marshmallow’s feet left the ground; only her grip kept her connected as the doughnut spun faster and faster. The whole room became a blur. Her fingers gradually slipped until she finally shot across the room, slamming back-first into the wall.

The force of the impact made a shoe fly off, and she slumped against the floor.

“Elf!” Bel’s scream was raw with panic now. He could feel his ribs creaking. “Help me!”

“I’m—” She coughed, spitting out a glob of frosting that had landed in her mouth. “I’m trying, okay? There’s no training manual for fighting a deadly doughnut!”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before kidnapping me!” He was crying now, tears streaming down his face as he gasped for air. “Maybe if you and your friends weren’t such useless idiots, you could actually— GAH!”

The doughnut squeezed tighter.

Marshmallow’s smile had completely disappeared. She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the pain in her back and heart.

What can you note about its pattern? Does it have one?

She replayed the last minute in her mind: it grew when threatened, it launched sprinkles when she got close, it spun when she grabbed it, and it could regenerate.

Her eyes widened. Regenerate. Meaning it knows it can be destroyed; it’s not invincible.

“Bel!” She dashed forward, sliding across the tiled floor. The sprinkles fired, but her momentum carried her under the barrage. She slid directly beneath the spinning doughnut and opened her mouth as wide as possible.

CHOMP!

Her teeth sank into the dough. It was sickeningly sweet, but she didn’t care. She bit down harder, tearing away a chunk the size of her fist.

The doughnut shuddered, but the pressure on Bel increased.

“Fuck!” he shrieked. “I’m gonna die!”

“No, you’re not! Not on Marshmallow’s watch!” She swallowed the chunk. She then bit again. And again. Her jaw ached after the tenth enormous bite, but she refused to quit.

The doughnut tried to spin again in an attempt to throw her off. But she sank her hands into the snack, tearing off pieces and shoving them into her mouth. Frosting smeared across her face, her hair, her uniform, yet she couldn’t have cared less.

Bel’s face was purple now.

Marshmallow bit down close to the doughnut’s hole. It sagged. The pressure around Bel’s waist suddenly lessened.

“Gotcha!” She grabbed him with one hand and pulled him from the doughnut’s weakened grip. Then she pushed him to the side, putting herself between him and the doughnut. “Just stay down.”

The pastry was wounded now, but it was still alive.

Marshmallow pounced on it like a starving animal, tearing it apart and devouring it. The doughnut thrashed, sprinkles firing in random directions. One caught her in the cheek, drawing blood. She didn’t even flinch. She ate until only crumbs remained.

The room fell completely silent. Only the sound of her laboured breathing could be heard.

Chef Yansen and Nikolas stared from the doorway, their jaws hanging open.

“You…” Yansen blinked. “You actually tamed it.”

Marshmallow licked frosting from between her fingers. “If devouring counts as taming, then yes.”

She looked at Bel. He was curled up on his side with his arms wrapped around his ribs, crying quietly. His face was still tinted from the lack of oxygen.

“You have my eternal thanks,” said Yansen, clasping his hands together. “Please, take anything you like from the shop today. It’s on the house.”

Marshmallow didn’t answer. She just crawled over to Bel and gently touched his shoulder. He recoiled.

“Bel…” Her voice was exhausted. “Are you hurt?”

“Don’t touch me.”

“I need to check if your ribs are broken—”

“I said no!” He shoved her hand away, immediately wincing from the pain.

“Fine. If you won’t let me use my hands, we’ll do it the fast way.” She stood. “It’s far more efficient with the strength of my feet.”

Before he could protest, she stepped onto his bruised ribcage, one foot pressing down with high precision.

A strangled cry tore from his throat. His eyes bulged as his lungs fought for air that wouldn’t come. Her foot didn’t budge; instead, it dug in deeper. Her thick toes gripped him in a vice.

Through the translucent nylon, he could feel everything: the arch of her instep, the firm pad beneath her toes and the way her heel moulded to the hollow of his ribs. Heat radiated from her sole. Even worse was the dampness that seeped through his shirt: filtered sweat.

He let out a whimper with every subtle shift of her balance.

“Get off!” He forced himself not to breathe through his nose. Inhaling her stench would be a death sentence.

“Please relax,” she whispered. “Your fighting is only gonna prolong the pain.”

Then something stranger occurred.

A current began to flow from her soles into his body. A tingling pulsing energy travelled through his bones, as if it were reconstructing them. Each scrunch of her toes sent a wave of energy deeper into him. The ache in his ribs began to dissolve, replaced by a soothing yet invasive warmth.

But though his body began to knit itself whole, his tears didn’t stop. Marshmallow slowly retracted her foot from him, hovering it over his face for a second. He stiffened.

“You can pick whatever you want,” she said, moving it away. “The snack, I mean.”

“I… I just wanna go home…” He was hyperventilating now. “I want my mom, okay? I just wanna…” His words dissolved into incoherent sobs.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I know.” She turned to Yansen once more. “Five hot sneeuwzoutstok, please.”

---

They sat on a bench outside the bakery. The late-morning sun cast a pale pink glow across the snow-covered street.

Marshmallow munched happily on her sneeuwzoutstok, seemingly unbothered by everything that had just transpired. Her uniform was still covered in frosting, and there remained a cut on her cheek from a sprinkle. But she chewed as if all were well.

Bel stared at his own treat with suspicion. The white stick was covered in what looked like salt crystals, but there was something else underneath: something creamy. It smelt bizarre.

He took a slow bite. His face immediately contorted. He gagged and spat it out onto the ground.

“Why the hell is it this salty?” he whispered.

“That’s the point,” Marshmallow said softly. “Here, try again. But this time, don’t chew right away. Just let it sit on your tongue for a second.”

He glared at her, ready to snap back. But when he really looked at her, the words died in his throat. She wasn’t mocking him. Her smile was genuine and free of Cinnamon’s condescension and Ginger’s malice. She was just trying to help him enjoy a snack after she’d nearly been shredded saving his life.

His throat felt tight.

He broke off a small piece and put it in his mouth, letting it rest on his tongue as she had instructed.

The initial wave of salt was overwhelming. But as it began to dissolve, that creamy sensation took over. Mixed with butter, a subtle sweetness balanced the salt perfectly. The texture changed as well, becoming smooth rather than rough.

He slowly chewed and swallowed. His body language was still guarded, but his face was calmer.

“See?” Marshmallow reached over and wiped a crumb from his chin.

He finished the rest of the snack in silence. Before he got to the last bite, he stopped and looked at her. She was gazing out at the street, watching a mother and her two children build a snowman. Her expression was peaceful.

“Thanks,” Bel mumbled. It sounded weird for him to say that, especially under these circumstances.

“You’re welcome.” Her smile brightened. “You seem shocked that I helped you back there.”

He looked down at his hands. “It’s weird. Girls don’t ever help.”

“What do you mean?”

“They just watch. They wait for you to screw up or do something embarrassing, and then they go on to laugh about it. Or spread rumours. No, just flat-out lie in some cases.” His voice dropped lower. “It’s like a sport for them, seeing who can make you feel the worst.”

Marshmallow’s expression shifted. “Is that what you thought I was doing? When I didn’t stop you from grabbing the doughnut?”

He didn’t answer; he just hunched his shoulders.

“We’re not those girls, Bel. I promise you that.” She ran a hand over his cheek. “I didn’t stop you, because I didn’t expect it to… I guess this is what the others mean when they say I’m too soft. I should’ve stepped in like an adult.”

“You saved me,” he mumbled quietly—so quietly he hoped she wouldn’t hear it.

“Of course. You’re my responsibility. And even if you weren’t, I’d still have saved you. Because that’s what you do for people. Even when they’re mean to you.” Her eyes lowered. “Even when they call you names.”

Bel looked down in shame. “I’m… I guess I was a little scared. That’s all.”

“I understand.” Marshmallow turned her attention back to the street. It wasn’t an apology, but it was the closest he had come to admitting he had done something wrong. They sat in silence for a moment; the cold air continued to nip at Bel’s cheeks, but it wasn’t unbearable.

Then Marshmallow let out a soft sigh.

“Um… Would it bother you if I ripped off my nylons?”

Bel tensed up immediately. Every instinct screamed at him to tell her not to traumatise him further.

“My feet need to breathe really badly,” she insisted. “You know, after all of that in there…”

It was strange. Rather than just kicking off her shoes like the others would’ve, Marshmallow was actually asking. His gaze dropped to the crack in the street in front of the bench. He focused on it hard.

“Is it okay if I don’t look?” he asked.

“Absolutely. Thank you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the bench as if it were a million metres in the air. He heard the soft rustle of fabric as she took off her shoes. They hit the ground gently.

Another sigh came—the sound of pure relief. Then there was ripping. Seconds later, a deep scent wafted towards him. It was slightly sweet, like the pastries in the bakery. But deep beneath that layer lay something rawer: the unmistakable smell of feet that had been cooking in air-tight flights. He kept his eyes firmly shut and his jaw clenched.

“Oh yeah…” Marshmallow moaned. “I needed that… My feet are killing me.”

Bel couldn’t respond. His heart was beating too fast. Even if he could, he bit his tongue to avoid telling her to put her shoes back on. He endured the smell and the presence of the monsters, his only comfort being that they wouldn’t attack him.

Yet even among these circumstances, this was the closest he had come to experiencing peace in this nightmare place.

Marshmallow leaned back on the bench. “There’s a lot of day left, Bel. Is there anything you like to do for fun?”

“Like what?”

“Something easy.” She ran a finger along her bare foot. “Preferably something we could throw together in the apartment rather than in public.”

He slowly opened his eyes, shutting them once more when seeing her feet were still out. “Only one thing I can think of, but you wouldn’t care.”

“You don’t know that.” She leaned her head closer. “What do you have in mind?”

---

Author’s Note:
It would seem Bel picked the best choice. Next week we’ll see if he can bond with one of these elves. You can also expect a hint of tickling for a certain pair of soles, too.