Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble Trilogy 2)

“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?”