Stirring Up Trouble (Stirring Up Trouble Trilogy 1)

He was very quiet, so I looked up from the dresser I was dusting.

He tugged at his Bob the Builder shirt and looked at me with wide eyes.

“What kinda bumps?” he asked in a whisper.

Apparently, he wasn’t ready for the realities of being a teenager. “Oh, I was just kidding,” I said. “My cat scratched me, just like you thought.”

I don’t think he bought it. I don’t even lie well enough to fool a four-year-old. I’m such a loser.

The third house had obviously been cleaned already. The bathrooms smelled of Pine Sol. Either, the mom was a neat freak or she couldn’t stand anyone seeing her dirt. Whatever. As long as I did enough to lose the chin hairs from hell, I really didn’t care.

The fourth mother had two boys and two girls. When I finished the last bathroom, I closed and locked the door. Holding my breath, I slowly peeled the adhesive bandage back. My three little friends were gone. Whew.

It had worked. All that cleaning was worth it. I did a little dance of celebration and called Mom to pick me up.

“So, did they try to pay you?” Mom asked, when I hopped in the car.

“Yep. Every last one of them.” I could have used the money, but that would have ruined all the work. “I told them to send a check to the domestic violence shelter if they wanted.”

She turned to me with a smile. “You’re a good girl, you know that?”

“I’ll tell you one thing, Mom. It’s a good thing I’m going to medical school, because being a cleaning lady is way too much work!”

She shook her head as if she weren’t sure what to do with me. “Should we go out for dinner?”

“I’m beat.” I pushed my seat back to recline. “And I need a shower before the game.”

“Okay,” Mom said. She glanced at her watch. “You cleaned for seven hours. No wonder you’re tired.”

Dad really wanted me to go to Sheree’s for the game, and I managed to talk Camille into going with me. The shower had done wonders.

Dad and I picked Camille up on our way. I hopped out to ring the doorbell.

“Thanks so much.” I told her when she answered.

“No prob,” she said, grabbing her orange purse and closing the door behind her. “It might be fun.”

“Fun?” I really doubted it.

She blushed a little, and I realized she was probably looking forward to seeing Jake. Even if she did end up marrying him and living happily ever after, I wanted someone to hang out with tonight. I’d just have to deal with it.

“That’s right,” I said narrowing my eyes. “You have a crush on somebody.”

Now, she turned beet red which was not flattering considering she wore a Volunteer-orange cardigan. “Shh. Your dad will hear you.”

“It’s okay. He won’t say anything to Jake.”

She smiled, revealing those dimples I so envied. “Oh, it’s not Jake.”

Oh, thank God! “It’s not?”

“No.”

“If you think you’re going to get away with not telling me, you’re so wrong. You’re at my mercy. I could tell Dad to kidnap you.”

She snorted. “Like he would. Mr. Sensible Scientist.” She lowered her voice and looked around as if someone would be eavesdropping on her front lawn. “It’s Kent.”

“Kent Carmichael?” He was shy and reserved, not at all like the outgoing Camille.

“Shut up!”

“Sorry. I had no clue.”

“Obviously.” She smoothed her denim mini skirt.

I so envied her legs. Kickboxing six days a week.

“Just get in the car.”

I climbed in the back with Camille even though I knew it was rude. Dad let me get away with it, but he hates being a chauffeur.

After Dad said hi and Camille answered his questions politely, we got back to our conversation.

“Since when,” I said.

“Huh?”

“Since when have you liked him,” I hissed in a whisper.

She shrugged, tossing her straight, dark hair over her shoulder. “I don’t know. A month or so, I guess.”

“Does he know?”

“No!” She acted as if Kent knowing would be the worst thing imaginable.

“Does anybody know?”

“No. Well, you, now. That’s it.”

“So what is it that you like about him?”

“I don’t know.” She got that dreamy girlie look in her big brown eyes. “He’s just so cute.”

Kent Carmichael? I mean, he was okay, but Camille could do a lot better. Jake, better.

I thought about Kent for a minute. He was kinda cute. Just so quiet. I didn’t really notice him much. Of course, I was too busy noticing Jake.

“If he knew you liked him, he’d ask you out in a heartbeat.”

Camille shook her head. “I’m not ready to tell him.”

“I could tell him.” I braced myself for a good smack.

She restrained herself. “No way. I’m not doing that whole seventh-grade, my friend likes you do you like her, thing.”

I didn’t really blame her. “But sometimes it works.”

“Not. Going. To Happen.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Good.”

“He’ll probably be at Jake’s though, don’t you think?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” she said, but she couldn’t do it without smiling because she was totally lying.

“No wonder I talked you into coming so fast.”

She laid a hand on my arm. ”I just wanted some Zoe and Camille time.”

I tried to snort but couldn’t. “I should be furious with you.”

“But you won’t. Because,” she lowered her voice, “you’ll be drooling over Jake the whole time anyway, so what do you care if I’m preoccupied with Kent.”

“Girls,” Dad called from the front seat. “I don’t mind driving you around like a couple of teenage rock stars, but the whispering and giggling are really more than I can take.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Sorry, Mr. Miller.”

Camille and I followed Dad into Jake’s house. The décor had changed from classy to the overdone Orange and White that true Tennessee fans expected, and yes they should be capitalized because Orange and White are like living personalities around here.

Sheree, clad in an expensive UT cardigan with Vols propaganda all over it, said hi and then asked where my Orange was.

“I wore White,” I pointed to my plain t-shirt.

“Zoe likes to be different,” Dad said.

“Dad!” Just because I didn’t want to look like the other half million people in Knoxville today wearing Orange didn’t mean he had to say that, out loud!

Camille jumped in to save me. “We’re together. See.” She motioned to her sweater and mine. “Orange and White.”

Sheree had moved on. To my father’s lips, where she planted a quick kiss.

Barf!

“I think you know everybody, John.” She took his hand and we followed into the kitchen and family room. “Girls, Jake and his ‘buds’ are upstairs. I’m sure they’ll be right down.”

In the meantime, Camille and I got to meet Sheree’s “buds.” Every last one of them wore orange and white with UT logos. And one of them had the cutest little girl. She was probably three, and they’d dressed her in a miniature UT cheerleader outfit.

The kitchen was open to the living room, and snacks covered the island. Sheree had laid out everything from chips and salsa to cupcakes slathered with orange icing. Yum.

“Cupcakes,” Camille sighed. “I love cupcakes.”

“Really?” I made sure the adults had all moved toward the big screen TV at the other end of the room. “I thought you loved Kent.”

This time, she did smack me.

“Ouch!” I rubbed my arm. “I didn’t know kickboxing gave you arm muscles too.”

“Do you want to call a truce? Or should we just embarrass each other for the next three hours??

??

“Truce.” My arm still hurt. “I’m going to have a bruise!”

“Should we sit down?”

I looked around. “No. Let’s wait until the guys get down here. Then, we can figure out where we want to be. Unless you just came for the game?”

“I don’t really like football, anyway.”

“Football’s okay. The whole rah-rah team spirit thing gets annoying.”

Speaking of team spirit, Jake and his friends pounded down the stairs like a herd of elephants. I thought there’d be at least eight of them, but when they turned the corner, it was just Jake, Kent, Eli, and Alex.

“Hey, Eli,” Camille said. “Is Alicia coming?”