Mom was seconds away from tears, and I didn’t know what to do. I never messed up simple potions. Heck, I never even messed up complicated ones.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “I’ll call Dr. Finnegan. We have to fix this fast because I have tests today.”
Mom stood with her hands on her hips, which only added to her rooster-look.
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
I dialed Finn. He was an old man, well on the inside. Old people got up really early. Please be awake. Please answer. “Zoe,” Finn answered in a sleepy voice. “Is something amiss?”
“Uh, yeah. We need your help. Mom’s health potion didn’t work. It’s bad. She has a rooster comb on top of her head.” I turned my back to my mother. “It’s big, Finn. Really big.”
“I can still hear you,” Mom said.
“I’ll be right there,” Finn said. “Don’t do anything.”
“I won’t.”
I hit end and turned to Mom. “Finn’s on his way.”
She sat back on the couch, or more accurately, fell back onto the couch.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t know what happened. Finn will fix it. He’s brilliant.”
She didn’t answer.
“I’ll get you a cold drink.”
I had no idea if she wanted a cold drink, but I needed to escape the room and the waves of agony emanating from her.
What had gone wrong?
Sure, I’d dozed for a minute, but the consistency was right. I had made sure of it.
I didn’t make mistakes. I didn’t! But if I were going to mess up, this morning would have been the time.
I walked over to where the measuring spoons and ingredients littered the counter. I reached for the bottle of orange peel and replaced the cork. Then I picked up the bottle of toad slime. I’d capped that immediately because of the odor. The tiny plastic bag of gum-myrtle root. The jar of— Wait. That wasn’t the gum-myrtle root. It was plain old black oak root. Oh my God!
Mom had messed up. Not me. What a huge relief! I didn’t want to be the one responsibility for the atrocity on top of her head. I hadn’t done it. It wasn’t my fault.
I took a deep breath. Finn wouldn’t think I was a total moron after all. The bottom line was that I should have verified everything, but that failure was way better than the epic fail I thought I’d earned this morning.
Now to fix this problem. I took another breath. I can do this. I need to think.
I heard Finn’s agitated knock all the way from the kitchen. I rushed to the door, but he had already flung it open.
Mom sat frozen on the couch. Eyes closed. Waiting for the reaction.
“Oh my dear Lord!” Finn exclaimed. “Annie, you poor dear.”
A quick glance told me Mom was about to collapse in sobs. “Finn,” I called. “In the kitchen. We need to talk.”
“Oh dear,” he said again with a last look at my mother.
Once inside the kitchen, I closed the door.
“You don’t want Annie to hear?”
“No, I don’t think she wants us to hear her crying.”
“Oh. Poor Annie.”
“I know what happened.”
“She didn’t wait long enough?”
“No. I mean she did. I mean that’s not it. Mom set the ingredients out for me, and I came down at six and brewed the potion.”
He waited.
“She gave me the wrong tree root.”
His face lit with understanding. “Instead of the gum-myrtle root, she used what? Oh dear, not palm root?”
“No!” I assured him. “Nothing that awful. Black oak.”
Finn sighed with relief. “Let’s get to work.”
“Um, Dr. Finnegan,” I said. “I need to go to school. I have a test first period.”
“Right,” he said, distracted as he searched through my potion cabinet. “School. Inconvenient, but unavoidable. Before you go, tell me what you have already prepared.”
“I’ve got a list in the library. I’ll go grab it.”
Finn didn’t answer. He kept pulling out potion ingredients and muttering to himself.
On the way to the library, I stopped at the couch. Mom had resumed her hands over her head position.
“Mom. Finn’s got this. Don’t worry. We know what happened, and he’s already working on it.”
“Really?”
“I promise.” I left her and went for the list. Then returned to Dr. Finnegan. “I have 27 potions brewed,” I told him as I handed him the paper.
“Excellent,” he said, studying my carefully compiled list. “And expiration dates as well. Good job.”
“You are going to fix her, right?” I asked. “She’s still sick on top of everything else.”
“I’ll handle it,” Finn said.
“There’s one more problem,” I said.
“Another problem?”
“I need a ride to school. I’ve already missed the bus.”
“It’s becoming quite apparent that you need a driver’s license.”
“I can’t get one until my next birthday.”
“I’ll take you to school. Are you ready now?”
“Yes. My backpack is in the living room.”
After saying goodbye to my mother, I trailed Finn to his car. I’d never paid it any attention before, but now I saw that it was a smart car.
“It’s tiny,” I said.
“Fuel efficient,” he answered.
“Is it safe?”
“Very,” he assured me. “And splendid for tight parking. I park on the street in Fort Sanders, and this little car can squeeze in anywhere.”
My school was only a few miles away. “Okay,” I said.
Finn opened the door for me, and I scrunched in.
He had the reflexes of a young person, I reminded myself. I wasn’t riding with a ninety-five-year-old man in a sardine can.
I was torn between yelling boo to check his reflexes and being as quiet as possible so as not to stress him in any way.
“Relax, Zoe. I wouldn’t endanger your life.”
“Of course not. I didn’t, um…”
“There’s always a healing potion,” he quipped.
“Har-dee har har.”
“You’re safe.”
I had a car about this size when I was four, but they didn’t let me drive it on the street. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with Mom.”
“Not a problem. I’ll have her back in action in no time.”
“I hope so,” I said.
Finn whipped into the school and dropped me right at the front door.
“Thanks,” I said. I grabbed my backpack and emerged from the car, not unlike a sea snail from its conch shell.
“I suppose your mother will pick you up?”
“I can take the bus.”
I slammed the door hard enough to shake the whole car, and Finn drove away.
“Your tutor drove you to school?” Jake’s voice reached me before I saw him.
“Uh, yeah,” I said scrambling for an excuse.
“Is your mother still sick?”
“Yes. That’s right. She is.” Perfect excuse. “So Finn offered.”
“Shouldn’t a college guy have something better to do?”
“I’m sure Mom paid him.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Your mother’s pretty sick?”
“I think she’s getting better.” At pretending she’s a rooster. Not my fault. Well, a little my fault.
“Are you okay?”
Nice of him to notice that something wasn’t right with me. I was glad he didn’t know exactly what. “I’m kind of worried about the test.”
He took my hand in his. “You’ll be fine.”
I gave his hand a squeeze. Having a boyfriend totally rocked!
My hand felt like it was going to fall off when I finished the lit exam. I had written out my essay answers in the blue book as fast as I could. Maybe I’d get lucky and get some extr
a points for writing more than anyone else. Otherwise, I could be in trouble. I didn’t have any deep or impressive thoughts on “man’s inhumanity to man” since I was distracted by the image of my mother, sick as a dog, lying there with a rooster comb.
My other hope was that all the other kids were too antsy for Thanksgiving to perform well. I know. I’m not exactly a good person when it comes to academic competition. I’m okay with that.
Before I went to lunch, I sneaked a look at my phone to see if Mom or Finn had texted. Mom had. She said that she was back to normal but still sick.
Thank goodness she had lost her new appendage, but why was she still sick? There must be a waiting period. That made sense. Two powerful potions within a few hours. Trying the health potion right away might be dangerous. I was so glad Finn was around to help.
I was tempted to text Dad and have him check on Mom. If Finn was working on the potions, who was making sure Mom has enough cold liquids for her throat? Who was making sure she was eating? But I stopped myself. My father was at work, and he’d only call and annoy her. She could call him if she needed him. I only had a few more hours before I could catch the bus home.
When I got off the bus, I saw that Finn’s car was gone. I hoped that was a good sign. I opened the door and went in to find Mom on the couch. She had brought down, not only her blanket, but her pillow from her bed. A tissue box, three glasses, a bag of throat lozenges, a bottle of Sprite, some sliced apples and cheese, and the remote for the TV cluttered the coffee table.
My mother stirred on the couch.
“Mom, are you awake?”
“Hi, sweetie. I’m awake.”
I set my backpack in the foyer and moved closer. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” she said, pulling herself into a sitting position. “What time is it?”
She looked better. She must have showered and washed her hair. And of course, the absence of the rooster comb helped. “Three-forty.”
“Two more hours,” she moaned.
“For what? The healing potion?”
She nodded. “I can take it at five-thirty.”
I started to say that it wasn’t too much longer, but her expression made me wary of saying anything encouraging. “Are we going to be able to have Milo and his family come? How far behind are you?” Mom kept a detailed schedule of things like holidays and planning for company. No telling how many “to do” items had gone undone in the last three days.
“We’ll make it work, Zoe. Finn already brewed the potion. I’ll take it, and then I’ll go to bed. By tomorrow morning, I should be back in action. I had to cancel the housekeeper today, but she thinks she can come late tomorrow afternoon. What about you? How did your test go?”
“Okay. I have to finish the chemistry paper tonight. Tomorrow I should be able to help you get things ready. I can skip school on Wednesday if you want me to.”
“Nice try,” Mom said. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
“If we can get everything done tomorrow night, do you think I’ll have time to work on the unicorn horn substitution? I didn’t get to talk to you about the breakthrough Dad and I made. I’ve been dying to get some limestone and try it out.”
“Limestone?”
“Yeah. It’s what most chalk is made of.”
“Well, don’t forget you have tutoring tomorrow after school.”
“I won’t.” I glanced at her table full of supplies. “Can I get you anything?”
“No,” Mom said. “I’m going to go upstairs to bed until I can take the potion. Can you order pizza?”
“Sure.” Pizza sounded good. “Should I wake you up at five-thirty?”
She stood clutching her blanket in one arm and the pillow in the other. “Please.”
“I’m sorry about this morning, Mom.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault, hon. It was mine.”
“I should have checked.” She rubbed her head.
“No harm done. Well, no long-lasting harm.”
After watching Mom stumble off to climb the stairs, I set up my laptop and everything I needed for my paper. Then I ordered my pizza.
My chemistry teacher had assigned the paper to be nice. Seriously. She thought she was being nice. Most of the kids in the class had low grades on the tests and some had trouble with the lab work too. I had almost a perfect grade, and if I wasn’t careful, this stupid paper would wreck it.
I had all my sources, and I had written the paper. I needed to finish the citations and the bibliography—my least favorite part. I thought it might take me four hours, three if I was lucky. No matter how hard I tried, I always forgot to write the page numbers down on at least one source.
The doorbell rang. My tummy was rumbling. I had picked at my lunch. Mom hadn’t given me any money to use, so I grabbed some cash out of the Papa Smurf cookie jar that my mother kept hidden in one of the cabinets. She didn’t hide it because of the money inside but because she didn’t want Papa Smurf marring her designer kitchen.
The pizza guy was about forty and pudgy. He handed me the pizza, took his money, and left.
My cell rang, and I saw that it was Dad. “Hi,” I said.
“You don’t sound very happy.”
“It’s been a rough day. I’ll tell you about it when I can.”
“Is your mother okay?”
“No, but she will be soon.”
“This should cheer you up. I was able to find some powdered limestone.”
Limestone. I grinned. “Already? When do I get it?”
“Not tonight,” Dad said. “But I’ll get it to you soon.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re welcome. Tell me if I need to help with Annie.”
As if he could do anything. “I will. Thanks.”
After scarfing down a couple of pieces, I stuck the box on top of the fridge and checked the time. I had thirty minutes before waking my mother.
After sitting on the couch, Mom poured a small amount of soup into a coffee mug and added the potion. “Here goes nothing.”
Please work.
She chugged the whole cup down, and then slammed it onto the coffee table.
I stood there, watching her closely.
Mom sat, head cocked, waiting.
“Well?”
She reached up to her head and then to her throat. “I think it worked. My headache’s gone, and my throat stopped hurting. I still feel like crap, but after the day I’ve had, I think that’s probably normal.”
“You want some pizza?”
“I guess I should.”
I walked toward the kitchen to fetch the pizza box. “Should I nuke it?”
“Nah. Just give me two pieces. Then I’m going to bed.” She took a piece and asked, “How’s the paper going?”
“It’s going.”
“Was this the chemistry paper?”
“Yes. It was interminable.”
“You know you’ll get an A. You could settle for less than perfect.”
“Mother! You are every bit as obsessive as me.”
She sighed. “I know.”
“You wouldn’t seriously advise me to give less than my best on my schoolwork.”
“Probably not.”
I waited for her to finish and go back upstairs before I dove back into my paper.
My phone rang as I finished the third page.
Finn?
I hit accept and said, “Hi.”
“Hello, Zoe. I’m calling to check on your mother. Is she doing better?”
“Yes. It worked this time. Thanks for helping today.”
“Not a problem. In fact, it was unfortunate that you weren’t able to observe today. You would have found the research interesting.”
Stupid lit exam.
“We can discuss it tomorrow afternoon. I don’t mean to keep you from your studies. If you and your mother are well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“We’re fine. Thanks, Finn.”
School lasted
forever on Tuesday. I turned in my paper, trying not to let Mrs. Salcedo see my irritation. She’d noticed my dismay when she’d assigned the paper, and I didn’t want to make her mad. I needed her recommendations for college.
At lunch, Jake was making up a test so I got stuck with Anya.
I chewed my ham and cheese sandwich while Anya messed with my phone.
“I can’t believe you still have the old iPhone,” she said as she scanned through my music.
“What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?” I asked to distract her from another rant about my phone’s failings.
She shrugged. “The usual.”
“Sounds like fun,” I mumbled. I’d been carefully monitoring every word out of my mouth for two weeks so that Anya wouldn’t find out about Milo’s visit.
She pushed the phone back across the table. “You seriously need some new music.”
I needed something new, all right, but it wasn’t music.
I hoped my mother had gotten things done today at home. I was only going to manage to squeak out an hour or two per day for my experiments while Milo was here. If Mom got a lot done, she wouldn’t need my help tonight. I could hit the limestone after my session with Finn.
When I got inside, I heard my mother in the kitchen and smelled something yummy. Spicy, like nutmeg. She was cooking for Thanksgiving, an encouraging sign.
“Smells good, Mom,” I said as I walked in.
Only it wasn’t Mom. Well, not just Mom. Finn, wearing one of my mother’s aprons, was rolling out some dough on the kitchen island, and my mother was chopping apples.
“Hi, honey! Martin offered to help me get started on some of the Thanksgiving dishes.”
I was about to say that was nice when I realized what she’d said. Martin. Who the heck was Martin? I looked at Finn. Dr. Martin Finnegan. She meant Finn. I raised a brow. “Martin?”
“I gave your mother leave to call me by my given name.”
“He hasn’t heard anyone call him, Martin, in a while.”
“You may call me Martin as well, but I’ve grown used to Finn.”
“Finn’s good,” I said. “I don’t want to accidentally call you Martin in front of Anya.” I’d managed to consistently remember to call him Finn. To think of him as Finn.
“Zoe, we decided to pre-chop all of the vegetables for the dressing and other dishes. I can put some of the dishes together tomorrow and cook them on Thursday. It’s a shame Marjorie won’t be here until Wednesday, or she could help with the cooking. I’m fortunate that Martin enjoys cooking.”
Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble) Page 11
