I cringed and slipped my phone back into my pocket. “I don’t know. Maybe twenty.”
“But there were only five cats. I didn’t think it would be that bad.”
“Where was the cat when you did this?” Dad asked.
“Inside the house.”
“And the male cats?”
“They were stuck outside. They couldn’t get in.”
Dad pinned me with a disappointed look. “You used faulty comparison data. You didn’t factor in your mother’s proximity to the dogs versus the cat’s isolation in the house. Without walls and door between your mother and the animals, your potion would have a much stronger effect on the dogs.”
I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid.
“It’s a good thing the potion didn’t work as you planned. Your mother might have been hurt if grown men started jumping on her and licking her face.”
Mom smiled at Dad’s silly joke. “I doubt they would have reacted exactly like the dogs.”
“We’ll never know,” Dad said in a serious voice.
“You do know what I’m most upset about,” Mom said.
“The lying.” I couldn’t meet her eyes. I had lied, and I’d know Mom would hate it.
“The lying,” Mom agreed.
“Are you going to punish me?”
“By the time the Council and Martin get finished with you, I doubt I’ll need to. Plus there’s always the punishment you’ll have by morning for your self-serving potion.”
Yay. I had failed, and I was still getting punished.
“Do you need anything, Annie? Is there anything I can help with before I leave?”
“No, John, but thanks for bringing her home.”
“Bye, Dad,” I said, giving him a hug. Who knew if I’d have arms to hug with by morning.
“Behave,” he ordered.
“I will.” For a while at least. I didn’t need more trouble.
Dad left, and I turned to my mother. “You know I didn’t mean for dogs to drool all over you.”
“I know,” she said. She hugged me to her and her odd movements made me pull away.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to rub the dog hair and slobber on you so you’ll suffer too.”
“Ewww!” I stepped back a few feet.
“Maybe I’ll just borrow a dog and use the potion on you. Then you’ll see how much fun it is to drown in drool.”
I shuddered. “Please no.”
Finn texted that it would be after midnight before he got to our house. Mom and I eventually fell asleep on the couch.
When Finn rang the doorbell, I woke quickly despite my exhaustion. The cable box read 2:10.
Chapter Sixteen
“Will the Council come tomorrow?” Mom asked.
“No. They’ve sent me as their emissary.” Finn’s pained expression told me he wasn’t happy about his role. “And the news is bad, Zoe. They want to take your powers until you turn twenty-one.”
“Oh, Zoe,” Mom groaned.
Twenty-one? It might as well be forty. I wasn’t even sixteen yet.
“Before you panic, I do have an idea. I’d like to come up with a counterproposal. Something reasonably harsh that will show you are taking this seriously. Something that they will be inclined to consider.”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes. Let’s do that.”
“Don’t get your hopes up too much. I’m not sure they’ll budge on their position.”
“Let’s get some notepads and move to the dining room table,” Mom suggested.
We sat around the table, awake after midnight because of me. Finn and Mom were trying to protect me even though I’d caused them nothing but trouble. “I’m sorry.”
“We know, dear,” Finn said without looking up from his notepad. He was busily scribbling away.
“Sometimes you just don’t think things through,” Mom added.
“I know.”
“Here are my thoughts so far,” Finn said. “I have been hearing that they are rather desperate for volunteers at The Hospital over Christmas.”
The Hospital?
“Oh,” Mom said. “The Hospital. I don’t know if Zoe has heard of it, and I don’t know if she’s old enough to handle what she might see there.”
“What is it?” I thought I knew about everything by now.
“You and your mother have experienced rather minor punishments for brewing self-serving potions. You’ve been quite fortunate. Thus far,” he said with a pointed look at me. “For children who have committed multiple offenses and for many unfortunate teens and adults, the punishments can be debilitating.”
“Like what happened to you?” I couldn’t be around rotting flesh. I’d never be able to do it without vomiting.
“Yes, but also a number of less horrific, though serious, complications. Some of these witches require medical care and constant monitoring while they recover, and because they aren’t able to work off their punishment, they last longer.”
“I’ve never heard of The Hospital.”
“We don’t generally reveal the possibility until we have to. Children who tend to get into trouble with magic learn about it quickly from their peers. You were relatively well behaved as a child, other than the one incident at camp.”
“It sounds like a scary place.”
“You may see witches on oxygen and respirators because they no longer have the lung capacity for their body habitus. I’ve seen more than one adult submerged throughout their stay because they had only gills to use for breathing. Last spring, a child was admitted with a lengthy giraffe neck which prevented him from walking around. He couldn’t support the weight of the neck and was bedridden. The child had to be fed with a special tube because the swallowing mechanisms did not work properly.”
This was not sounding like a happy place.
“But if I volunteer there, will that satisfy the non-selfish component of the volunteer work?”
“Yes. We’ll mask your identity so there will not be any benefit to you as far as contacts. As for the experience, I’ll emphasize the chilling effect it may have on your behavior when I present it to the Council.”
It totally would give me a lot of reasons not to misuse my magic.
“Could you stand it, Zoe?” Mom asked.
“I think so. I can do almost anything to avoid losing my magic.”
“How long would she need to stay there?” Mom asked.
Finn thought for a moment. “Their need for volunteers and the fact that it’s Christmas will go a long way. I think we should offer ten days though. She could leave later today and then return on New Year’s Eve.”
A lump formed in my throat as I realized I was going to lose my Christmas. No rushing down the stairs on Christmas morning to check my stockings and open my presents. “Okay. Let’s try it.”
“Oh, Zoe,” Mom said.
It hit me that I hadn’t only ruined my Christmas but hers as well. All for my mother to get chased by dogs. Tears started to form and I struggled to stop them. I couldn’t speak without going into full cry mode, so I didn’t say anything.
“If you’re sure, Zoe, we’ll go ahead and include ten days in our proposal. I think that will catch their attention. I am also going to disclose the recent events with the unicorn substitution. It is a bit of a risk. I’m only telling the Council, but each and every person who knows increases the chances that the wrong person may find out.”
“The Council knows that you made the discovery though,” Mom said. “And you haven’t encountered any danger.”
“True,” Finn said. “I haven’t had any problems, but I don’t want to downplay the risks. I want everyone on the same page when we go forward with our counterproposal.”
Finally able to speak again, I said, “I think it’s a good idea. I trust your judgment, Finn, and whatever you think will help is fine.”
“Then I guess we have a plan,” Finn said. “I’m going to transport back to the Council. Anything else I should know
before I go.”
“Zoe, is there anything we don’t know about?” Mom asked.
“No.”
“And if they agree to this, are you sure you can stand ten days at The Hospital?”
“Yes.” No. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. I’d have to lose my powers or spend ten days in a horrible place and I’d accomplished nothing at all. A harsh penalty for dogs licking my mother’s face.
“I’m off then. The Council is particularly upset about your error in the potion brewing. They are concerned that your behavior was reckless.”
I nodded.
Finn popped back in at five a.m. with the news that the Council was considering my counterproposal and that they wanted me to leave by tonight for The Hospital.
“But there aren’t any guarantees?” Mom asked. “She could miss Christmas and lose her powers?”
“Theoretically,” Finn said. “I doubt that they will do that, but it is a possibility.”
They were punishing me. They could easily decide to take my powers anyway. “I’ll do it,” I said. “I have to try.”
Finn examined me and said, “We don’t know what your automatic punishment will be yet. We’ll have to make our final decision when we see what you’re dealing with.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Hang in there. I’m going home to catch some sleep. You should do the same. Call when you wake up. I’d like to know as soon as possible.”
I nodded.
“Thanks, Martin,” Mom said.
Hopeless, exhausted, and defeated, I climbed the stairs and collapsed into my bed.
When I woke up later that afternoon, I thought my vision potion had been reversed. I’d had twenty-twenty vision for years, but today I opened my eyes and instantly realized I needed glasses.
“Mom!” I screamed.
I heard the creak of bed springs and then a huge thump on the floor. Then some scuffling and the sound of running footsteps. Mom burst into my room. “What is it? What happened? How bad?”
“It’s my vision,” I said. “It’s blurry.” And there were faint lines in a strange pattern.
Mom, or the blurry blob that I knew to be Mom, jerked a couple of times as she looked at me. “Oh, my.”
My breath caught. “What?”
“You have bug eyes.”
I pushed her aside, jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror over my dresser. I had bug eyes. Gone were the human eyes with the black pupils and green irises. Instead, I had giant bug eyes that took up my eye sockets and ran onto my cheeks and up onto my forehead.
My reaction was to retch, and since I’d not eaten much, the result was dry heaves.
Mom rushed over to put her arms around me. “Calm down, sweetie. It will be okay.”
I retched again.
“Relax, Zoe. If you can make yourself calm down, this will stop.”
I focused on my mother’s voice and willed myself to get a grip.
She rubbed my back, and the comforting gesture began to work. I stopped with the dry heaves.
“It’s going to be fine. Remember, you’re headed off to do volunteer work tonight. You could be back to normal by tomorrow. Or Tuesday. How poor is your vision?”
“It’s weird. I can’t see that well, like I need glasses, but I can also see extra stuff.”
“What do you mean extra stuff?”
“The Band of Horses poster. It’s got another layer of color.”
“You mean it’s glowing? I think insects can see ultraviolet light.”
“It’s not glowing.” It was hard to explain. “It’s like another color, but I don’t have a name for it.”
“Interesting.”
I scanned the room, working to distinguish each item and figure out my limitations. “I can’t read. I can’t focus on the letters.”
“That stinks. Let’s try going downstairs. Can you see well enough to walk?”
“Yes. It’s weird, but I think I can.”
I held onto the railing going down the stairs. I felt somewhat off balance. Once downstairs, I walked around each of the rooms, moving slowly, noting the difference in how everything looked and working to reconcile what I was seeing with what I knew was there.
After a few minutes, I was less afraid of falling over as I walked. Mom had been walking just behind me, to make sure I didn’t hurt myself. “I’m okay, Mom. I can do it. I just need some more practice. You can sit down.”
“I’ll call Martin,” she said, rushing for the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, Finn arrived.
“Goodness, Martin. You look dreadful,” Mom said.
“Mother!”
“With those circles under your eyes, you look at least four years closer to your true age.”
“Something to consider, Annie. Perhaps I should skip sleep for a couple of weeks. I might find myself back to normal.”
I couldn’t help smiling.
Finn approached me. “Zoe, may I touch your face?”
“I’m not sure it is my face,” I said, “but go ahead.”
He used his hand to gently lift my chin. “Fascinating. It could have been much worse.” He released me and stepped away. “Can you walk to the kitchen and pour a glass of water and return to us?”
“I’ll try,” I said. I walked to the kitchen, removed a glass from the cabinet and went to the sink. My depth perception wasn’t so great, but I managed to fill the glass by guiding it with my fingers. I turned off the faucet, and then raised the glass to my lips. The motion was dizzying because I could see the glass coming at my face as if my peripheral vision was better. I took a sip, and then went back to the living room to share my experience.
“Maybe it won’t last long,” Mom said.
“It better not. I’m not going to be much help at The Hospital.”
“If all you can do is go from bed to bed and talk to the kids, you will be doing some good,” Finn assured me.
“I’ll fix some breakfast, and you two can practice,” Mom said. “How’s the stomach, Zoe?”
“I’m good.” To be honest, I kept looking at the houseplants by the window, and that pretty color that had no name was making me hungry.
“I don’t know whether to tell you this or not, Zoe.” Mom brought more clean socks, bras, and undies from the laundry room and placed them neatly in my suitcase.
“More bad news?”
“Not exactly. Your grandmother is coming down on Christmas Eve, and I’m going to talk to her about the things we learned about her mother.”
“And I’m going to miss it.”
“I know you’ll be miserable because you’re missing her visit, but I didn’t think you’d want to find out later.”
“You were right to tell me.”
“I’m worried about you, Zoe. Missing Christmas and going to a place like that for so long, without knowing a soul—”
“I’ll be fine, Mom. It won’t be that bad and it won’t last that long. I can do it if it means keeping my powers. I have to keep my powers.”
“Finn said you can text me twice a day. Make sure you don’t forget.”
“I won’t forget. You’re going to mail Milo’s present tomorrow.”
“I won’t forget.”
Oh my gosh. I fingered the charms against my chest. “Mom! I never showed you my present from Jake.”
I pulled out the necklace, and she held it as she examined the charms.
“He’s a good one, Zoe,” she said. “He knows you very well.”
“He knows about thirty percent of me. He doesn’t know about Finn, the potions, the toad slime, the Frog Fiasco.”
Mom put her arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. “I think you have plenty to deal with for now. Jake did well. He’s a great boyfriend. You should count your blessings.”
I nodded. “I know.”
Mom added my Nook, my Kindle, and my iPad to my bag even though not one of them was of any use to me with this vision. “I don’t think you’ll be insect-eyed for more than a few days.”
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“I hope not.”
Even with the toiletries, the small duffel bag wasn’t full. “It seems like so little for ten days away.”
“I guess I’ll get used to wearing a hospital uniform.”
“Sure you will,” Mom said. “Oh, I forgot your nightgowns!” Mom rushed off to the dresser. She grabbed all five of my gowns and added them to the bag. “I hope you’ll have time to read at night. It might help you adapt and clear your head about what you’ve dealt with during the day.”
“I’m sure the three hundred or so books on these devices will hold me.” If I could get the trick of figuring out what I was seeing in time to use these crazy eyes to read.
“I added a few more, actually,” Mom admitted. “I thought you might want some more variety.”
“You put some self-help books on there, didn’t you?”
“Maybe some inspirational poetry and short stories.”
For all I knew, I might need them. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I know you’re not a kid anymore, but I thought it might be a good idea to pack something to snuggle with. Maybe one of your stuffed animals.”
I went to my bookcase and grabbed the Christmas bear from when I was five. He looked perfectly cuddly. I wasn’t above sleeping with a toy if it would make my sentence any easier.
Once we finished packing, I called Milo.
“I wondered when you’d finally call.” He’d already heard most of it. My mother had called Marjorie for moral support. “Anything I can do?”
“No, but thanks.”
“You’ll be okay,” he assured me. “And you’ll have great stories to tell.”
I probably would.
The last thing I did before going out to Finn’s car was email Jake. Mom decided I should tell him I was spending the time with my grandparents at an RV park in the middle of nowhere. I pressed send on my latest lie to Jake.
Riding to Atlanta in Finn’s Smartcar was an adventure. First, there was the speed issue. Finn had some residual slow-driving grandpa in him. Second, my vision disoriented me at this speed, and every passing car freaked me out. Third, there was his incessant questioning.
“Can you describe your near vision?”
Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble) Page 20
