Dr. Finnegan’s lips twitched and curved into a smile. “Proceed as you will.”
Turning quickly, I marched out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into my room. I slammed the door, and then I clenched my fists at my sides, opened my mouth, and screamed at the top of my lungs.
The near perforation of my eardrums shot pain and a roaring buzz through my skull. I had forgotten the part about needing to cover my ears.
I clapped my hands to my head and held my ears until my hearing started to return to normal. Then I struggled to compose myself and left my room to return to Dr. Finnegan.
He greeted me with a full smile as I walked back into the kitchen. “Feeling better?”
“A little,” I admitted. “Enough.”
“I took the liberty of advising your mother of the impending assault on her eardrums.”
I gasped. I hadn’t even thought about the scream terrifying my mother. “Thank you! It would really have freaked her out.”
“Freaked her out,” Finn repeated, concentrating like someone tasting a new food. “Freak her out.” He grinned. “A worthy addition to the vocabulary of a ‘dude’ my age?”
Smiling back at him, I said, “Maybe if you practice for a while.”
“I am sorry about the Council’s appropriation of the toad slime research. However we have a great deal of work to accomplish, and I have no question that you shall benefit from the enhancement of your studies.”
I’d been dying to study with him. With a nod, I said, “I’m sure I will too.”
“Let’s get started.” A smiled warmed his ridiculously beautiful face. “You and I shall work together on potion-brewing principles. We’ll get through the basic material quickly. Then we’ll begin the more advanced coursework. I expect to have you on a college-level syllabus within six months.” His cobalt blue eyes met mine.
Dr. Finnegan and I were working together. I grinned so wide my face felt like it would split. “Excellent.”
Mom hovered around us as we were wrapping up. “Before you go, Dr. Finnegan, would it be okay if I got a picture of you and Zoe. You know, for our scrapbook. I won’t post it on the internet or anything.”
“Mom!” I hissed, mortified by her fan-girl behavior.
“An excellent notion, Mrs. Miller. They can publish it in Witch Weekly after she discovers the cure for cancer.” He winked at me.
“Mom,” I groaned. “Is this really necessary?” The man was self-conscious about his appearance as it was.
“Yes.” She opened the drawer next to the fridge and pulled out her digital camera.
I gasped. She had planned this all along.
“Now stand together in front of the counter.”
We moved to do as she said. He was being a good sport but I didn’t want to send him running.
Dr. Finnegan took the whole thing in stride. “What’s that ‘rock on’ sign you kids use?”
I showed him.
He made the sign, and I grinned.
Mom snapped the picture.
“They’ll be labeling this as my second childhood anyway,” Dr. Finnegan said with a shrug. “May as well enjoy it.”
Chapter Two
As soon as Dr. Finnegan went out the front door, I turned to my mom. “It was great!”
She beamed. “Oh, Zoe. I’m so glad! I wasn’t sure considering his appearance. He’s nothing like the man I heard speak at the seminar years ago.”
I told her how quickly he planned to move forward, and she squealed. “That’s wonderful!”
As we walked back toward the kitchen, I said, “Oh, but Anya wants me to spend the night at Camille’s tonight.”
“That’s fine,” my mother said.
“Actually, I don’t really want to go. I want to mess around with some potion recipes and I need some sleep before tomorrow. But I don’t want to ditch Camille with Anya.”
“You aren’t responsible for Anya. Camille is her friend too.”
“I know. I’m going to stay home.”
“Good,” she said. “I like having you here.”
“Can I tell Anya you wouldn’t let me go?”
Mom looked at me through narrowed eyes. “Because it’s easier that way?”
“Yes.”
“You need to stand up to that girl, Zoe.”
“You mean like tell her she’s a b-word?”
“No. I mean tell her you can’t come and spare yourself the excuses.”
I sighed. “I’ll try.” I went into the living room and grabbed my cell. Instead of calling and dealing with her drama, I decided to text. Can’t come. Sorry.
My phone rang mere milliseconds later, Anya’s pic popping up on the screen. I hit ignore and set the phone on the table.
I had to keep my mind off of tomorrow. The idea of ice skating in front of people terrified me. I didn’t have the coordination for such a slippery sport. I didn’t want Jake to see me bruised and humiliated at the skating rink. He had dated Anya, who annoyed me plenty, but who also managed to appear adorable and feminine no matter what she was doing. I sighed as I walked back to the kitchen where Mom was. I was not looking forward to tomorrow.
The vibrating of my phone woke me just after midnight. Reflexively grabbing for it, I felt around until I found it and then raised it to look at the text.
Camille. Something must be wrong. Was there an emergency? Was she okay? She had Anya over, I remembered. She must be miserable. Groggily, I started to read the message and then sprang to full alert as the words sank in. Call me! A in big trouble. Busted. Sent home!
Pressing ‘3’ for Camille, I sat up and turned on my bedside lamp.
“Oh my God, Zoe,” she said in a rush as she answered. “She snuck out to see that guy Brice, the senior. He lives in my neighborhood.”
“Brice?”
“Yeah, Brice Quinn. He’s in a band. Adequate Orange or something.”
I couldn’t picture him. “She never even mentioned him to me.”
“Well, she is really into him all of a sudden. She left me here trying to keep my mother from noticing. But Mom came in before she went to bed at eleven and Anya was gone.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Of course. But Anya’s mother was livid. She said she’s grounded for a month, and she dragged her out of here by her ear. Seriously. I didn’t think people really did that.”
Her ear? I giggled at the image.
“I know!” Camille laughed too. “She was so mad. I’m not even sure we’ll ever see Anya again.”
Anya disappearing might not be so bad. She’d been selfish and difficult lately but she had been her old self at the dance. “You think she’ll lock her in the basement?”
“She’ll probably wish she had after her mother yells at her for a month.”
“She’s an idiot,” I said. She’d risked getting Camille punished and caused a huge scene.
“Well, duh!”
“What happened when she got home?”
“How would I know?”
“Didn’t she text you?”
“No way. The first thing her mother did when she came in the door was take her phone.”
Anya without a phone and grounded for a month. I couldn’t imagine.
On Sunday, I woke with a sense of excitement. I could sense the crisp, cold air outside and I pulled out the red sweater I’d bought with Mom. Okay, so it wasn’t all that cold outside. The chill I sensed was that of the ice skating rink where Jake, Camille, and I would be helping with the Coats for the Cold coat drive today. Camille’s boyfriend, Kent, was a good friend of Jake’s, and he’d be there too.
Jake had organized the event by working with the charity and the skating rink and starting a volunteer club at our school. The school had vetoed his first choice, a Habitat for Humanity chapter at the school. High school kids at construction sites posed too great a risk for the school board. I could definitely hurt myself around saws and hammers, but I could injure myself on the ice too.
He was going to v
olunteer next summer for Habitat himself. He’d learn some of the skills he needed for the Peace Corp. Every time I thought about his plans for the future, I wanted to grab him and hug him tight.
My plan was to be as helpful as possible. So helpful, in fact, that I didn’t have any time for actual ice skating. I lived in the South where hockey was nonexistent and figure skating rare. I’d been ice skating exactly twice in my life. And with my lack of coordination, as severe as if my parents had genetically engineered me for maximum clumsiness, sliding around on a tiny blade on the slipperiest surface wasn’t a good idea.
I located my baggiest pair of jeans and pulled them on over a pair of form-fitting sweats. Extra padding for the many impending falls. I would have tried for more padding, but I wouldn’t have been able to walk around, much less bend down to sort through the coats that were donated.
Since Jake was running the whole event, I hoped he wouldn’t have time to skate. If he didn’t skate, I wouldn’t have to either.
“Which coats am I taking?” I asked Mom when I walked into the kitchen.
“Good morning to you too,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind cereal this morning. I wanted to make you some nice warm oatmeal to keep you warm, but I didn’t trust the oats in the cabinet. I think they might be from 2005.”
“Eww. Good call.” I’d never liked oatmeal anyway. “Cold cereal will be perfect. Especially since I won’t be cold until I get to the skating rink and scoot along the ice on my rear end.”
“Oh.” Mom bit her lip and then said, “I didn’t realize you were skating. I assumed you and Jake would be busy with the coats.”
“I’m hoping,” I told her.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she said, but she worried her bottom lip again. “Besides, you look great in that sweater.”
“Nice try,” I said. I didn’t think anyone would care what I was wearing when I busted my butt over and over on the ice. Flailing wasn’t attractive no matter what the outfit.
“We could use a potion.”
“To make me a better skater? No way. The penalty would be terrible.” Witches were limited as to self-serving magic. If I brewed a self-serving potion, basically any potion that would benefit me, I would be punished with some horrible detraction from my appearance. Historically witches had been punished with crooked noses, green skin, and giant warts. In the last few centuries, the price for the magic had been more varied and unpredictable.
Once I sprouted an elephant trunk or giant zits or whatever, I would have to do selfless volunteer work in order to work off the punishment.
“The punishment for protecting your tailbone would be minimal,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “For heaven’s sake! I’m not going to break anything. I’m going to humiliate myself.”
“You’ll be fine. You just need to get your balance.”
With a huff, I said, “Mother, I have been trying to get my balance for fifteen years now! I doubt I’ll find it in the skating rink.”
“Now you’re exaggerating,” she said. “You have found your balance, many times, and you’ll be fine. I’ve seen you walk and chew gum simultaneously.”
“Gee,” I said with a big fake grin. “I feel better. Thanks, Mom. You fixed everything.”
“Smart aleck,” Mom said. “You kids are there to help with the coat drive. Focus on that and you’ll be fine.”
I picked up the box of toasted oats and poured some in the bowl.
“Maybe if you’re so busy working, they’ll run out of skates in your size.”
She’d given up on the encouragement approach already. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom.”
She sighed. “I am a bit worried about your bones.”
“My bones are fine!”
“Of course,” she said. “Don’t forget to drink up all the milk when you finish the cereal. Calcium cannot hurt.”
I glared at her, but I ate my cereal and then drank the milk. After I rinsed the bowl and set it in the sink, I followed Mom to the living room to see the pile of coats.
“I found five.”
“We have way more than five.”
“Yes,” Mom admitted. “But I want to keep a few for emergencies, like company, or a power outage, or snow.”
“Two more,” I demanded. “Give me two more, and I’ll be satisfied.”
“How about one?”
I gave her my “don’t mess with me” look, and she sighed and went after the coats.
Mom dropped me off at the parking lot of the skating rink where the large sign read, “Free admission today with a coat for the cold.” Jake was waiting outside, clipboard in hand.
I’d gotten out of the car and hugged him when Kent and Camille pulled up next to us.
A man and woman from Coats for the Cold drove up in a U-Haul truck. They opened the back to reveal eight large wooden boxes for people to put their coats in.
Kent and Jake helped unload the boxes, which thankfully had wheels, and lined them up along the side of the parking lot. “We’ll have some set up out here for those who want to drive up and donate, and we’ll have some inside for those who are skating.”
Four other students got dropped off to help while we were rolling the bins into the skating rink and setting them up.
“If you can sort them into men’s, women’s, and children’s before we get here to pick them up, that would be terrific,” the guy from Coats for the Cold said.
“No problem,” Jake said.
“If some of them are grungy, don’t worry about it,” the woman added. “We take them all to a local laundry and dry cleaners who clean them for free.”
“I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you doing this, Jake,” the guy said. “We have programs in various office buildings, churches, and elementary schools that are quite successful, but high school students haven’t exactly jumped at the opportunity in the past.”
Jake grinned. “Thank you, sir. We’ll see you at six.”
“I’m surprised Dad and Sheree didn’t insist on helping,” I said as Jake and I attached the signs he had printed to the giant boxes.
“I told them they couldn’t,” Jake said. He taped the “Women’s” sign on the largest bin. “I didn’t want them taking over.”
I could picture Sheree dominating this project. Dad too. “Good point,” I said.
Jake set the tape and papers on the nearby table. Then he came closer, wrapped his arm around my waist, looked me in the eyes, and said, “And I wanted to spend time with you. Without the parents. Your dad still makes me nervous.”
He made me nervous too. I was pretty sure he would have forbidden me from seeing Jake if Dad hadn’t been dating Sheree. He couldn’t make it look like his girlfriend’s son wasn’t good enough for me, and he couldn’t admit he didn’t trust Jake. I saw Jake a lot, but it was either with the parents or at school. I smiled back at him. “You are a genius.”
He glanced around us quickly and then touched his lips to mine, soft, quick, and utter perfection.
“We have to get to work,” he said, tracing my bottom lip with his finger. “But we’ll have some time later to ourselves. The owner thinks most of the skaters will be here before two with a few trickling in after.”
If most of the donations were in by two, we’d have four hours left to either stay busy or skate. The blood drained from my face, but I struggled to smile at Jake. “Great,” I squeaked.
His eyes narrowed as if to question my sudden change in mood, but I got lucky because one of the guys called for him to come out front.
As soon as he walked away, Camille came running over, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “You guys are so cute together.”
“Thanks. How cute will we be after I fall on my face on the ice?”
“Oh,” Camille said. “I forgot.”
How she could forget my trademark clumsiness, I had no idea, but Jake didn’t seem to remember either.
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” She reached out to
pat me on the hand. Her cheeks were a perfect shade of pink from the chill in the air, and the crisp white hat and scarf contrasted with her straight black hair.
“My plan is to stay busy with the coats.” Then an idea struck me. “I can make a list of them. That will take forever.”
“Do they need a list?”
“No, but that isn’t the point. I can’t skate, Camille. I don’t want Jake to see how pathetic I am.”
“He’s known you forever,” she said. “Surely he knows how path—Um, I mean, surely he knows that you aren’t the most coordinated person.” She gave me a look of misery.
“I know what you mean, Camille. Don’t worry about it. The truth is the truth.”
Camille grimaced. “The list is a great idea. I think you should do it!”
I always had a notebook in my purse, and I had at least one pen.
By two o’clock, we had over three hundred coats. Donations were still going strong outside. Jake, Camille, Kent and I manned the inside.
We had started going through the coat pockets to get out the gum wrappers, tissues, eww, pencils, and notes. Camille found a crumpled twenty, and we decided she should buy some used coats to donate next time she went to the thrift store.
“Oh, look,” Camille said after unfolding a piece of notebook paper. “Lisa D. has a big crush on Owen W.”
“Really?” I was intrigued at the thought of those two as a pair. “I wonder if Owen knows?”
“I don’t think it matters,” Kent said, pointing at the coat. “That coat would never fit a high schooler.”
I examined the pink furry coat, and admitted that it carried a very fifth grade message. “I guess it is a couple years old.”
“How sad,” Camille said, crumpling the note and tossing it into the trash. “Star crossed lovers, I guess.”
I caught Jake’s gaze and we laughed.
Kent grabbed Camille’s hand and raised it to his lips. “Better them than us,” he said.
Camille’s eyes lit with warmth, and she jerked Kent’s arm to pull him closer.
I looked away as they kissed.
Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble) Page 2
