“I have an excuse. I don’t notice crap like that. It’s the way I am,” Darbie said. “But she expects more from you.”
“Great, so everything is all my fault,” I ranted.
“OMG, will you chill, drama-monster?”
“I’m chilled—until Hannah gets attacked by something flying or crawling or buzzing,” I said.
Coach gathered us up. “Okay. This is the last practice before the big game. I’m going to do something I’ve never done before. I’m not going to tell you who made the team today.”
We peppered him with questions. “Why not?” “How come?” “What?”
“Simmer down, simmer down. I want to see everyone in a game situation. So, tomorrow all of you will play in the St. Mary’s Spiders game. Wear a solid white shirt. Whoever makes the team will get an official Alfred Nobel uniform after the game, so you’ll have it for the chili contest.” He started stretching his legs.
We stretched too, like we were playing an assumed game of Simon Says. That’s when I noticed something. In the distance I saw Tony Rusamano ride his bike past the field. He hopped off and watched us stretch for a few minutes.
“You know what we’re going to do, right?” Coach yelled enthusiastically.
“Run,” the girls answered—with a lot less excitement than Coach Richards.
“That’s right! Let’s GOOOO.”
We ran laps around the field, Hannah in the lead.
“What are you doing later?” I asked Darbie.
“Something nice.” She gritted her teeth. “My stinking good deed. Thanks to Señora Goody-Two-Shoes, I’m going to finish the chores I started last night. Can you believe it? I’m washing lawn furniture and putting it in the basement. It sucks.”
“Maybe it does.” I watched Darbie run for a bit. “But have you noticed that you’re not tripping anymore?”
“Yeah. But I’m still not happy about the chores. I don’t like chores. I hate chores. I do anything I can to avoid them. Sometimes, I even do homework just so that I don’t have to take out the trash. It’s the kind of person I am. I’m a non-chore-doer.” Darbie was snippy in a way that was totally unlike her. “And if it wasn’t for that book, I wouldn’t be in this crappy-chore stinkfest.”
“Oh. Sorry about that,” I said, as nonclumsy Darbie ran ahead without me.
What’s happening here? Am I seriously fighting with my two best friends?
Coach had half of us run up and down the bleachers. From the top I had a great view of the Alfred Nobel campus and the whole soccer field. Darbie took some shots on goal, which were really good—high and to the corner. On the other side of the field, Hannah spoke to Charlotte. It made my belly simmer like a pot of chili left on a hot stove. Charlotte laughed. But Hannah? Not so much. On the street side of the field, I saw Tony ride by again.
On my next climb to the top of the bleachers, I noticed that Charlotte wasn’t laughing anymore. Hannah’s hands were propped on her hips, and she leaned forward as she talked, her mouth flapping frantically.
I ran back up the bleachers again. No Tony, and Darbie scored. Hannah dribbled the ball away from Charlotte. Charlotte looked like she called after Hannah. Hannah didn’t respond. I wondered if those two had a spat.
I ran down and toward the field, passing Darbie on her way to do the bleacher routine. I asked her, “Hey, after practice, do you think you could—”
“No,” she said. “After practice I have to go straight home and finish my work.”
“Oh.” I officially had no one to go with me to La Cocina—I was on my own.
The store was quiet, with no customers. There were never any customers. But I was not alone—I was surrounded by glassy-eyed dead animals. Somehow, their presence wasn’t comforting.
Since I knew how the spices were organized, I went to the shelf that contained items starting with the letter V. It was next to the framed beach photo I had seen before. Only this time I read the inscription on the frame’s golden plaque: ISLA DE CEDROS.
A noise behind me startled me. “Excuse me, chica. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Lurker!
I should’ve been used to her scaring the crap out of me by now, but I wasn’t. Señora Perez could tell.
She looked at the photo with sadness in her face. “It’s beautiful, no?”
I nodded.
“It is a very special place with a special story.”
My voice hadn’t found its way back to my boca yet.
“Would you like to hear it?” she asked.
I nodded again.
“In the old days, Isla de Cedros was attacked by pirates. The peaceful towns were small and defenseless. To protect themselves, the village’s spiritual guide, we call him the shaman, enchanted the farmers’ spices. The farmers used these spices to protect their families. Other herbs were packed into their treasures.
“The next time the pirates looted the villages and sailed away with the villagers’ riches, a storm followed them. It dragged the pirates and the treasures far out to sea, where the ships and their contents sank.”
“Were the treasures ever found?” I asked.
“No. The Cedronians believed their island was safer with their jewels and coins at the bottom of the ocean, because without any treasures, the pirates would leave them alone.”
“But then the islanders wouldn’t have any treasure,” I said.
“But they did. They had family and friends and their beautiful Isla de Cedros. That was their treasure. And, of course, they still had their special spices,” Señora Perez said.
I said, “That’s exactly what I need.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Vanilla bean from Isla de Cedros. Do you have any?”
She paused and looked at me strangely. “Si, I have vanilla bean from Isla de Cedros.” Instead of taking something from the V shelf, she reached for a canister. She took out a little bag, small enough to be a pillowcase for an ant. She dipped a spoon into the canister to retrieve a scoop of beans, which she poured into the pillowcase. Then she cut off several inches of twine and tied the pillowcase closed. “These beans will enhance the senses of smell and taste,” she said.
“Yes, that’s what I was hoping.” I held out my hand casually, hoping she’d give me the beans without asking more questions.
She dropped the sack into my hand. I reached into my pocket for money, but she waved me off.
“Gracias,” I said.
“And don’t forget,” she said. “Quien siembra vient—”
“I know, I know. The Law of Returns.”
She smiled. “How did doing good deeds work to balance the bad luck?”
“I think mine worked. Darbie’s still at it. And she’s not happy about it.”
“If it’s easy, it won’t affect the forces of nature,” she said. “And Hannah?”
“She’s not talking to me much today.”
“Sometimes you need to make sacrifices for a special friend,” she said. “That is true kindness.”
“I guess,” I said, and walked toward the door. But I wasn’t sure what she meant.
I paused before leaving. “Señora Perez, do you believe in magic?”
“Of course. What would the world be like without magic? I do not think I want to know.”
“What about magic books?” I asked.
“I believe many things are magical—stars, knowledge, poetry, love, and friendship. But books? No, they are just paper, ink, and words. Not magical.”
I nodded and slowly walked to the door. When I turned my head to say adios, she was gone.
23
Condensed Soup
I hated Charlotte. I’d never been shy about that fact. But I wanted to make a sacrifice for my friend Hannah. I knew she really wanted to win our soccer game, and she wanted Charlotte to make the team. This was more likely to happen if Charlotte played so that Coach could see how good she was. So, I needed to undo those blistered feet.
I set my Cedronian vanilla beans a
side in exchange for the Moon Honey, which I took with me. Before knocking on Charlotte’s back door, I peeked through the window to get the lay of the land.
I had been in the Barneys’ kitchen a million times to feed their cat while they were away. It looked like it could be on the cover of a designer magazine. The wallpaper was yellow with cheerful little teapots. The floor was shiny hardwood, the appliances brushed stainless steel, and there was a bouquet of fresh flowers on the center of the kitchen table.
This was a kitchen made to look like someone cooks in it. Actually, it saw only takeout Chinese, pizza boxes, plastic to-go containers, and precooked frozen dinners. What a bummer that all of this fabulous cooking space went to waste.
I saw two empty cans of condensed soup on the counter, their contents in a silver pot. A wooden spoon stuck straight up in the soup, which was still in the shape of cans.
The table was set with three bowls and three glasses—two of them wine glasses, one a regular drinking glass.
I resisted the urge to go home, whip up a pot of my awesome homemade chicken-and-rice soup with fresh parsley and long-grained wild rice, bring it over, and swap out the pots, so that the Barneys could have a decent dinner. But I figured that could be something nice I could do the next time I needed good luck.
I knocked on the back door and after a minute Charlotte came.
“What do you want?”
I didn’t pretend that I suddenly liked her. “Can I borrow your Spanish notes? I forgot mine in my locker.”
“Sure, for five dollars.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Nope.”
“Fine.”
She held out her hand.
“I don’t have it on me. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”
She guffawed. “I know where you live. If I don’t get it tomorrow, I’ll start charging you interest.”
“Fine. Look, can I just borrow your notes?”
“Wait here,” she said, as if I’d track mud all over the white carpets.
When she was gone, I approached the table, took a honey drop, and wiped it around and around the inside of the bowl near the regular drinking glass. It took a lot of swirls to coat the inside of the bowl. I was still swirling when I heard footsteps coming toward the kitchen. They were coming fast. I took the remaining stub of honey drop and put it in my pocket.
I scrambled back to where I had been before Charlotte left, but she saw me moving.
“What were you just doing?” she asked, like she’d caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.
“Nothing. Well, actually, you caught me. I was dancing. You know how you get a song in your head that you can’t get out?” That seemed to satisfy her.
“Here.” She tossed me the notes like they were a hot tamale.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t thank me. It’s a business deal. I’ll expect my money tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
I went home, but before I reached the door, something totally annoying happened. I stepped in dog poop.
I could’ve interpreted this in many ways, but I thought it was probably a reminder from the Law of Returns that good deeds take some time and they can’t be easy. So I went to Mrs. Silvers’s yard, scraping my shoe on the sidewalk, the street, and the grass. For the second night, I scooped without being asked, another pleasant surprise for the Silvers residence.
I was proud of myself for successfully doling out another antidote. I wanted to do a little happy dance, but I didn’t feel happy enough. The dance wasn’t the same without the girls there. I couldn’t be happy enough to dance when I knew they were mad at me. The reasons they were mad at me were because of the Secret Recipe Book—a book that, according to Señora Perez, couldn’t be magic.
My BFF trio felt like it was crumbling like a stale corn muffin, all because of the Book.
Question: Is the Book worth my BFFs being mad at me?
That night I went to bed, with Rosey’s cold nose on my ankle, and with no answer.
24
ANtS vs. Spiders
“Every stupid piece of stupid lawn furniture has been cleaned and is packed away. I’m ready for a non-clumsy day, and if I don’t get it, I might have to pop that Señora in the nose,” Darbie said to me. “So let’s get this game on.”
“Does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?” I asked.
“Mad? That wasn’t mad. That was tired and cranky. I get that way. You should know the difference by now, Kelly Q.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you that cranky.”
“This is seventh grade. It’s a whole new world.” Darbie patted me on the back. “I’ll try to go easier on you next time.”
Coach Richards looked official in his ANtS Athletics shirt and shorts. And even in unofficial solid white shirts, we looked sort of like a team ourselves.
After a lap and stretch he said, “Girls, bring yourselves in here.” On our way to huddle up, I overheard him ask Charlotte if her feet felt up to playing.
“You bet, Coach. I’m good to go,” she said.
Ta-da! Go Moon Honey! Go Moon Honey!
I could tell that Hannah heard Charlotte. I expected her to at least crack a smile, but her face remained flat.
Why?
The game flew by. Darbie played goalie, while Hannah and Charlotte were on offense. I was on the bench. In between plays I heard Mr. Douglass giving the play-by-play over the loudspeaker. Thankfully it was a low-tech, low-budget audio system, so the Spiders and their parents couldn’t hear him.
Hannah dominated the offense immediately. She scored, thanks to an assist from Charlotte.
I might have even forgotten that Charlotte is evil by the way she was playing. Hannah’s expression wasn’t flat anymore. She was psyched by her goal. Then, within a few minutes, she set up Charlotte to score.
“The ANtS are ahead two to zero,” Mr. Douglass announced.
I went in just in time for the Spiders to get a breakaway.
“The Spiders score!” Mr. Douglass yelled. “What a bummer. Don’t worry, Darbie. Even Martha Stewart with a wok wouldn’t have been able to block that shot.”
We held them off until the fourth quarter, when the Spiders scored again, tying up the game.
Hannah jogged off the field and talked to Coach Richards. Then Coach put Hannah in as goalie, and Darbie and me on offense. It was all up to us.
Mr. Douglass described the action. “O’Brien runs the ball down the center and passes it. Oh, the Spiders get the ball. Wait, Kelly Quinn gets it back. Look at that fancy footwork. She’s dribbling straight toward that Spider! Now what? Quinn passes backward to O’Brien. Quinn gives O’Brien the perfect shot—and the ANtS score!”
Darbie jumped up and down and did an overly energetic happy dance that hip-checked Charlotte, who had come over to give her a high five.
The referee blew the whistle. The crowd exploded with applause. I think I heard Tony Rusamano’s voice among the cheers.
The game ended with an ANtS victory.
Darbie ran toward me with a recognizable look in her eye. I could tell she was going to try to chest-bump me. I braced myself.
“Ouch!” Mr. Douglass said over the loudspeaker. “Quinn is on the ground, decked by her teammate.”
“Oops, sorry, Kell,” Darbie said, offering her hand to help me up.
Hannah ran over and gave us a big hug. Our victory seemed to have made her forget that she was mad at me.
Mr. Douglass concluded with an important invitation. “Please join us here later for the Annual Alfred Nobel Chili Cook-Off, which will be judged by YOURS TRULY!”
We gathered around Coach Richards. “Great game, girls! I’m very proud of you.” He patted a lot of backs. “Get some water and let’s talk.” The thirsty team chugged from their water bottles. “You all did a great job today,” Coach said. “You should be proud of yourselves. It’s time to announce who made the team.”
Eve
ryone stopped drinking.
“I’ve decided I’m going to take everyone this year. You all made it!”
“YAY!” There was a round of hugs.
We did a dance and pumped our arms. Darbie took a few steps back and came at me for a chest bump, which went terribly wrong because she tripped and ended up on the ground.
“Maybe it’s time to give up the chest bumps,” I said.
Darbie agreed.
Hannah pulled her off the ground.
Coach said, “Calm down, calm down.” We did. “Do you see that lady over there?” he asked. “That’s Erin, the department assistant. If you’re very nice to her, and tell her what a great coach I am, she’ll give you your uniforms.”
“Let’s go before all the good numbers are taken,” I said to the girls.
Darbie ran full speed toward Erin. I felt badly for that woman, as the chances of her being laid out in the next few minutes were pretty high. “O’Brien!” Coach yelled. She stopped and looked at him. “Chill,” he said. Darbie slowed to a fast walk.
“Can I have number six? Or number twelve?” she asked.
Before going home, I gave Charlotte the five dollars I owed her. She tried to make a big deal about it, which I didn’t want to hear, so I just walked away. As I did, I thought I saw Tony Rusamano riding away on his bike.
25
The Annual Chili Cook-Off . . . Finally
We crossed the schoolyard toward the Chili Cook-Off. I felt as though my luck was changing, and I owed it all to that fabulous antidote called Moon Honey.
It had been a great day for the ANtS soccer team. Everyone played well, including Darbie. I had to give myself a big ol’ pat on the back for successfully getting the antidote to Charlotte so that she was able to play. We might have lost the game if it weren’t for her big assist.
“So, your feet are better?” I asked her.
“Oh yeah. Once I stopped wearing those new cleats, they were fine.”
I nodded, even though I knew it really had nothing to do with the cleats.
“But you can still carry my books if you want,” she added in typical Charlotte style.
Just Add Magic Page 12
