Stirring Up Trouble (Stirring Up Trouble Trilogy 1)

After dropping a pinch of the powder into the mixture, I held my breath.

C’mon.

I glanced at my dad who seemed as into this as I was. Three. Two. One.

Blue steam.

“It worked,” I screamed, jumping up and down.

Dad gave me a big hug. “Congratulations, scientist.”

“I can’t believe it.” I hadn’t been this elated since, well, Jake’s kisses. Now, I could help Anya’s grandmother without feeding her toad slime.

“I knew you could do it.” Dad grinned as I jumped around some more.

“I did it! I did it!”

“Uh, Zoe,” Dad said.

“I did it!”

“Zoe. The uh experiment.” He motioned to the stove. The cloud of blue steam was spreading outwards and could take over the kitchen any moment. I could almost feel my hair frizzing.

“Oh, yeah,” I said and ran over to add salt to neutralize it. The steam cleared.

I couldn’t seem to help jumping. Jump. Jump. Jump. “Dad, do you realize what this means? How many potions have toad slime?”

Dad smiled at me. “I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Hundreds. Hundreds. Maybe even thousands.” I pulled the foil off the pot and dumped it in the stinky trash. The cats were going to love this when we took it out back. With a smooth motion, I pulled some more foil and lined the pot. “One more test before we get too carried away.”

I mixed the dried tulip petals with the toad slime substitute. Then, I added a raw egg and some soil. I gave Dad a hopeful glance as I walked over and poured the mixture into the dead-looking tulip on the windowsill. Seconds later, stalks sprouted with bright yellow blooms. The plant looked like it was fresh from the florist.

“I don’t believe it,” Dad said. “You could make a fortune selling flowers out of season.”

“I have bigger plans, Dad.”

“Right. Wow,” he walked over and touched a petal. “Beautiful.”

I grabbed a different can brand of deviled ham and tried again. It worked.

I tried another.

“The deviled ham seems to work in three different brands,” I said. “Let’s try the tuna.”

I opened a can of tuna from a different store and mixed the ingredients. Nothing.

I tried another. Nothing.

Starting to freak out, I opened another can of the same brand we used the first time. Success.

“The tuna matters. The deviled ham doesn’t,” Dad said. “Let’s assume the trout doesn’t either, but it won’t hurt to buy some tomorrow from different vendors.”

“I can’t believe it really works. I have to call Mom.” I ran for the phone.

“You really are going to do it. Aren’t you, Zoe?” Dad’s tone suddenly turned serious.

“What?” I asked as I picked up the phone from the counter.

“Save lives. Become a brilliant chemist. Make a difference.”

I gave him my best “well, duh” look. “I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“I’m so proud of you.” His eyes gleamed with pride and I thought for a second he might tear up.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Now, you are planning to keep researching this substitute and carefully document any differences from potions with the original ingredient,” he said returning to scientist mode. He went back to the spreadsheet on the island and made notations.

“Yes, Dad. I’m on top of it.”

“I’ll buy up all the tuna available in this same packaging.” He stood, walked over to the tuna can, and wrapped it in foil. “I’ll send this off to be analyzed so we’ll know the amounts of the tuna parts versus other fish and the percentage of various tuna elements.”

I knew recreating the experiment was not a sure thing, but I had faith in myself, and in my dad.

Turning my attention to the phone, I dialed Mom’s cell.

She answered immediately. “Zoe? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Mom. Relax.” I could barely contain my excitement.

“Sorry,” she said over the chatter and clinking of the restaurant. “I worry when you and your father get together to,” she lowered her voice, “uh, cook.”

“Mom!”

“Well, you did blow up the kitchen that time.”

“When I was nine. And we were using a chemistry set, not, um, other stuff.” Did she have to bring that up every time?

“I still smell the melted laminate countertops when I take a deep breath.”

She was so lying. We’d totally remodeled since then. “Mom. Listen. I did it. I found the substitute.” And I found myself jumping up and down again.

“For toad slime?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, um,” I heard her mutter to someone, “new band. She’s got tickets.” Then to me, she said, “That’s so great. I’m so proud of you! It’s not easy to get those tickets. We’ll celebrate when I get home.”

I giggled. Mom was a horrible liar. I guess that’s why I’m so bad at it. “Whoever you’re having dinner with is going to think you’re psycho.”

Mom groaned. “He already does.”

Ah-hah. “So it is a he!”

“Crap.”

Then, I realized Dad could hear me. I looked over to see he’d put his hands in his pockets and was shuffling around.

I could tell Mom was smiling as she said, “I’ll see you soon, Zoe.”

“Okay, Mom. Bye.” I disconnected.

“Listen, Zoe,” Dad said.

It almost sounded like he wanted to talk about something serious, but that couldn’t be it, because he never talked about feelings and stuff.

“It sounds like your mother is ready to start dating.”

“Um.” What was I supposed to say to that?

Dad started looking at his shoes and jingling the change in his pocket. Surely he wasn’t going to keep going down this road.

“Zoe, I know we. Well, I. Mostly me, I guess. I’ve made it ha

rd on you and it’s hard enough being a teenager.”

True.

“Zoe. You are very important to me. I don’t want you to feel like you come second to anyone.”

I had no idea what to say. Dad and I had fun together. At least we used to. But this heartfelt thing was completely out of character for him. All I could do was gape like a fish.

“Are you dying?” I asked.

His eyes widened in surprise. “No.”

Thank goodness. “Are you marrying Sheree?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not yet anyway. I just felt like we hadn’t had any time together lately. I know you’re having to deal with your feelings about me leaving your Mom…”

I really wasn’t ready for this conversation. I just wanted it to end.

What was I supposed to say? Oh, no, Dad. I’m fine with it. It’s great you left Mom and started dating. And I couldn’t say what I really felt either. That he’d betrayed us and I was mad at him. That he should behave like a grown up.

“Anyway. I want to make sure you know I’m here for you. When, or if, you need me.”

“Okay,” I said over the lump in my throat, because despite the anger, I was touched that he was trying.

“Good,” he said, his shoulders relaxing a little. The jingling sound stopped. “Should we go out to dinner to celebrate?”

I didn’t need a mirror to know what I looked like. I’d been standing over a bubbling cauldron. And honestly, I didn’t feel like going anywhere. I wanted to celebrate with Mom.

I couldn’t wait to tell Milo. I wished there were more than three people in the world I could share this with, but I couldn’t tell anyone else. We’d tell the Alchemist’s Council later. After more research. That would be awesome. No one my age had ever done anything like this.

But first, Mom and I would have to talk it out. She didn’t want me getting too much attention. The Order might try to interfere with my education. Mom wanted me mainstreamed. And so did I. She was afraid I’d lock myself in a lab and not come out until graduation. And she was probably right.

“Not with the fuzzy head, Dad. But how about we make some fajitas and eat here?”