Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble Trilogy 2)

“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.