“How much?” I ask, holding a bag full of dried raspberry leaf.
Jillian shrugs. “All of it, I guess.” Once we’ve dumped everything in, Claire mixes it all with a long metal spoon.
“It’s potent,” I say, catching a whiff of the mixture.
Claire sneezes. I notice her eyes are watering. “It smells like Pit Pot, the Indian restaurant my parents always take me to.”
“Maybe we added too much curry,” I say.
Jillian bends and sniffs the mixture. “It’s perfect,” she says. I want to ask her how she knows, seeing as this is the first time any of us has ever done this, but I just let it go. Her confidence seems to bolster Claire, making her smile. “We’re supposed to let it harmonize for ten minutes,” she says, reading from the spell book again.
“So, Pipe?” Claire says. “When are you going to show us?”
“Show you what?” I ask, smiling. Claire tosses a towel at my head, making me duck. I was just waiting for them to ask. I walk over to the storage shelves and pull down a huge bin filled almost to the brim with candy. I set it on the counter and open it. Claire and Jillian come over immediately and peer over my shoulder.
“They’re exactly like the real ones,” Claire says, reaching into the bin and plucking a pink heart from the big mass. I nod. They came out amazing. I didn’t actually manufacture all of the candy myself this time. I made the prototype and Jan found a confectionary company with the right equipment to churn them out way faster than we could have.
Jillian leans over and reads the heart Claire is holding. “Not Likely.” She nods and leans over the bin, reading some of the others aloud. “Yuck, Go Away, U Stink.” She looks over at me. “Harsh,” she says.
I laugh and look into the bin. “These are pretty tame. You should have heard some of the ones—” I stop and look over at Claire. She gives me a small smile.
“Stuart had some harsh ones,” she agrees. “Take Off, U’R Lame, Seriously?.”
“They’re cool, Piper,” Jillian says, but her voice sounds unsure.
“What?” I ask.
Jillian looks at me for a long moment then just shakes her head. “They’re cool. Just sort of—” She shakes her head again. “Nothing.” I start to tell her to just say it, but she’s already walking back toward where the mixture has apparently finished harmonizing.
“I think we have to do chocolate,” she says, sniffing the mixture again. “Maybe it will hide some of the strong flavors.” Whatever Jillian was going to say is gone now. We scoop some of the chocolate base into a small bowl, sprinkle it with a few spoonfuls of the mixture and stir. We each dip our fingers in and taste it.
“Not bad,” Claire says. The rain intensifies, becoming an insistent thrumming on the roof above us.
“Okay,” Jillian says. “Now the second part of the spell. Repeat after me—”
“Wait,” Claire says. “What if Jan wants to use this?” She looks from me to Jillian. “I mean, what if he does and it works?”
I start to say something about the likelihood of the spell working being about the same as the likelihood of cupid flying out of my nose, but Jillian, sensing I’m about to say something sarcastic, elbows me.
“More love to go around, I guess,” I say. Claire seems unconvinced. “What’s the worst that could happen?” I ask. I realize I sound like the heroine of nearly every monster movie ever made. Right before the tomatoes turn from harmless salad additions to giant mutant man-eaters. Right before they figure out the green slime is really alien snot that has mind-controlling capability. I shake the thoughts from my head. This is real life, not Hollywood. Jillian and Claire are both staring at me. “It’ll be fine,” I say. Both of them seem way more caught up in this whole thing than I am. I think about Charlie calling me cynical.
“Okay then,” Claire says. “What are we waiting for?” She reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Repeat after me,” Jillian says. I hope the fact that she’s getting seriously impatient doesn’t ruin the spell. I think about telling her that, but decide that impatient is better than ticked off, which is what she’ll be if I interrupt her again. “Elduanai Islandera pulatera. Let my love come to me.” Just as we finish, a huge crash sounds and all the lights in the kitchen blink out at once, pitching us into total darkness.
Jillian screams. Claire, who is standing closest to me, clutches my arm. My heart is thudding hard in my chest, but I’m the first to start laughing. Claire joins me and soon all three of us are laughing. “Do you think it was magic?” Jillian asks in the darkness.
“More like just a power outage,” I say. I walk carefully over to the desk, hitting my hip once on the edge of the counter. I retrieve the flashlight that Jan keeps in the top drawer. I snap it on and point it toward where Claire and Jillian are standing. They squint against the light. There is a scrabbling at the back door.
“Don’t answer it,” Jillian says. I turn the beam of light on the door. There’s more noise, then knocking. Suddenly all of the monster movies I have ever seen converge and I envision a huge lizard/tomato/zombie creature on the other side of the door. I walk toward the door on rubbery legs. Just as I reach it, there is more knocking, and then I hear my name.
“Don’t,” Claire says from behind me. I push the door open. The person standing there is just a shadow against the lights in the parking lot. Then the person speaks.
“I told you not to open the door,” Jan says, walking in. He has his keys in his hand.
“But you knocked,” I say. My voice comes out squeakier than normal. “Why didn’t you just let yourself in? You have the key,”
“I couldn’t see the lock in the dark.” He props the door open with an empty crate to let a little light into the dark kitchen. “I heard screaming,” he says. He must have been hanging out in his car this whole time. He really does worry too much. “Why are all the lights out?” he asks. He reaches for the light switch beside the door and toggles it once. Nothing. He walks over to the desk and reaches behind it where a small metal door is hidden. We hear a click, then the lights snap on. “You tripped a breaker somehow.” I look over at Claire and Jillian, who both look a little sheepish. Although I have to admit, for a moment I got caught up in the whole idea of magic too.
“Hmm, something smells good,” Jan says. He walks over to where our concoction is still steeping in its bowl. Jan slides a spoon from the drawer and dips it into our potion. He puts it in his mouth and tilts his head to the side. “Good,” he says. He coughs once. “Spicy.” He laughs. “I think we have a winner,” Jan says. We help him mix a big batch of the new flavor and pour it into the molds. We slide the full trays into the refrigerator.
Jillian scoops what’s left of our potion into a large glass jar, which Jan caps and slides into the refrigerator. He runs water into the bowl and adds a squirt of soap. “So, how’s The Plan going?” Jan asks. Claire’s cheeks go pink and my heart starts beating too fast. Only Jillian seems calm.
“Right on track,” she says, smiling. Jan looks at me, one of his eyebrows raised. I look away, pretending to be intent on untying the strings of my apron.
“Hey,” Jan says, turning off the water. “I almost forgot.” He walks out the back door and comes back in carrying a big box. He puts it on the counter next to the bin of Consternation Hearts and uses a knife to slice open the tape. The three of us crowd around Jan and try to peer over his shoulders. Inside are hundreds of flattened pink boxes, each with a heart-shaped window covered in plastic on the front.
“Perfect!” Jillian says, pulling one out and folding it. She holds it up.
“It looks really good, Piper,” Claire says.
“They do,” I say. I didn’t really think they’d look this good, this much like the real thing.
“Okay, now we just have to fill them all,” Jan says. I take a deep breath and look at the thousands of pastel hearts jumbled together in the bin. That is going to be a huge job. A horn beeps out front.
“That’s my mom,” J
illian says.
“I’ll come back tomorrow and fill boxes,” I say.
“We’ll help,” Claire says. I look over at Jillian, who nods, although with slightly less enthusiasm than Claire.
“Okay then,” Jan says, putting the top back on the bin of Consternation Hearts. “Until tomorrow.” We gather our backpacks and coats and follow Jan through the darkened store to the front, where Jillian’s mother’s car is idling. “Thank you for the new flavor,” Jan says, unlocking the front door and following us out onto the sidewalk. “It’s going to be huge!” His exuberance makes us laugh. He waves at Jillian’s mom as we get into the car. She waves back, smiling more than I think I’ve ever seen her smile. You can’t not smile around Jan. All three of us push into the backseat, despite protestations from Jillian’s mom that it makes her feel like our chauffeur. Just as I’m about to close the door, I hear Jan call my name. I peer out.
“What should we call the new flavor?” he asks. I don’t even pause.
“Love Potion Number Nine,” I say. Jan laughs.
“Perfect,” he says. If only he knew. I wave again and pull the car door shut.
The three of us are so quiet that Jillian’s mother tells us it’s making her nervous. I wonder if Claire and Jillian are wondering the same things I am. What if the blackout wasn’t an overloaded fuse as Jan suggested? What if it really was magic? What if our potion does work? I smirk at the ridiculousness of what I’m thinking. No way, I think. But then why does my heart do a little bump when I think of what might happen when I give Ben Donovan some of our chocolates? Thank goodness the backseat is so dark. At least no one can see me blushing.
chapter eight
It’s after ten A.M. by the time I finally force myself out of bed. It’s so rare the house is quiet enough to sleep past dawn that I decided to take advantage of it and not set my alarm. Usually by about six thirty either Dom or Lucy or both have been in here half a dozen times to see if I’m up yet. Since they’re at Beau’s for the whole weekend, it’s quiet—almost too quiet. I pull on this hideous, old sweater I found at Jump! over my pajamas. The sleeves are so long I have to roll them several times to even see the tips of my fingers. I pull my hair into a sloppy bun on top of my head as I walk downstairs.
Mom is sitting at the counter sipping from a mug with her calendar spread in front of her. She glances up and smiles at me as I walk into the kitchen, but then looks right back at her calendar, making a notation off to one side with a pencil. It’s no mystery where I get my organizational skills.
“How many?” I ask, pouring myself a mug from the coffeepot.
“Well,” she says, without looking up. “Plus the four orders I just took off the voice mail, it’s two thousand one hundred and forty-eight flowers.”
“Whoa,” I say.
“Whoa indeed,” she says. She frowns at her calendar. “It’s going to be tight this year. I just don’t have the cooler space I need.”
“No luck with the expansion?”
She shakes her head. “They just won’t budge. I mean, honestly. Jersey Mike’s Subs doesn’t need another dining room.” She has been trying to get the sandwich shop next door to release their hold on the space between them, but so far they won’t.
“It’s not the greatest location anyway,” I say.
“I know, but the thought of finding another location and then moving and…” She trails off, frowning at her calendar again. I take a sip of the coffee, grimacing at the taste. I forgot how strong my mother makes it. It seems like it just keeps getting stronger and stronger the longer we’re in the busy season. By the time the June weddings finally end, I almost need a fork to drink it. My mother’s cell rings. Just a normal ring, not the dog barking that Charlie just put on my phone to replace the bees. She puts the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
I open the fridge and peer in, trying to find something decent for breakfast. Something other than the acai juice my mother is currently hooked on. I push past a banana with too much brown and grab a quart of strawberries. I take them over to the sink and flip the faucet up to wash them. Nothing. I keep forgetting. The sink is still broken.
“Today?” my mother says into her phone. “Oh well, if that’s the only—” I look over at her to see her looking at me. She glances back at her calendar and frowns again. “No, no. This afternoon will be fine.” She clicks her phone closed. “That was a plumber.”
“And—”
“And they’re willing to come take a look at it, but it has to be today.”
I’m not sure why she’s frowning at that information. It’s been nearly a week without water in the kitchen. We’ve been making do with the downstairs bathroom, but even with the lid closed, there’s something disturbing about putting the dish drainer on top of the toilet. “But, that’s good right?” I ask. She bites her lower lip. “Oh,” I say. “Someone needs to be here to meet the plumber.”
“Piper, I am so sorry,” Mom says. “I know I have been asking so much of you. I mean, with Mrs. Bateman out sick and unable to babysit and with Valentine’s Day right around the corner—”
I hold up my hand. “It’s okay,” I say. “I didn’t have any plans.” I feel my pulse start racing as I say it.
“Really?” she asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice to the lie. My palms get clammy and I can feel my cheeks start to get pink. “Well,” I say, before any more symptoms hit, “nothing I can’t change.”
My mother gets up from where she is sitting and comes around the counter. “Thank you, Piper,” she says. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“I’ll make a list,” I say, smiling. She gives me a hug before closing her calendar and heading up the stairs. I dig out my cell phone and dial Jan’s. I tuck the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I walk toward the bathroom with the container of strawberries in my hand. I’m trying to decide which is worse, eating unwashed strawberries or washing strawberries in the bathroom sink, when Jan’s voice mail clicks on. I quickly run the berries under the water as I explain why I can’t be there to fill boxes of Consternation Hearts.
After inhaling the last of the strawberries, I open the pantry door to put the empty plastic container in the recycling and find it already overflowing onto the floor. I take the whole box outside to dump it in our recycling can, but it too is overflowing. I peek over at the Wishman’s can just across the small strip of lawn between our houses. I decide in the interest of saving the planet that it’s okay to dump our recycling in their bin. Besides, with only Charlie and his dad living in the house, how much could be in there?
The front door opens just as I’m shaking out the last can. Mr. Wishman steps out onto the porch.
“Morning, Mr. Wishman,” I say.
He glances in my direction and offers me a weak smile. “Morning, Piper,” he says. I start to thank him for letting me use up some of their recycling space, but he turns and heads back inside before I can.
Charlie’s dad has always been a little eccentric. He’s a great artist and a really nice person, but things like clean clothes, haircuts, and mealtimes seem to fall off his radar when he’s painting. I’m guessing he must be in the middle of something huge.
The good news is that I’ve gotten almost all of my homework done. The bad news is that the plumber, who was supposed to show up “sometime after lunch,” doesn’t even make it to the front door until nearly four. The worst news is that it’s already after five and all I can see is the bottom half of him still sticking out of the cabinet under the kitchen sink. He keeps complaining to me about the “old pipes” in this house, like it’s my fault they are all corroding and breaking down. My mother’s called half a dozen times from the shop, each time expressing her thanks more and more earnestly for staying here with him. My cell barks at me. I look over at the legs sticking out from under the sink and surmise that the bits of pipe scattered all around them mean it’s still going to be a while.
“Hey, Jan,” I say. I can hear “The Way You Look Tonight
” through the phone.
“Just calling to let you know that as of tomorrow your Consternation Hearts are officially on sale.”
“You finished?” I can’t stop grinning. I couldn’t figure out how I was going to get all those boxes filled and still actually attend school this week. “Thank you so much, Jan. You—”
“Whoa,” he says. “Don’t thank me. All I did was fold up a few boxes between customers. Your friends did all the work.”
“Are they still there?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says. “They just left. Something about The Plan.” I roll my eyes. No telling what Jillian has Claire doing now. Bleaching her teeth. Getting a facial. Balancing her chi. “I sent them out of here with a few of boxes of Love Potion Number Nine and a bag of Morning Madness Granola about ten minutes ago.” Here we go, I think.
“How does everyone like the new flavor?” I ask.
“It’s not officially on sale yet,” Jan says. “Although Jeremy tried it when he came in early to help me open up. He said it was good.”
Love? Maybe. Page 7
