“Nah.” He shook his head. “She had to go to the game with her dad.”
“Hey guys,” Jake said.
I guess me and Camille were guys tonight.
“Oh, man!” Alex grabbed a bowl of chips and the guacamole. “Your mom made guac!”
Camille and I stood there, sipping our soft drinks while the guys sucked down about half the food. They never stopped talking or moving, but somehow they managed to eat a ton of snacks.
My dad wandered back to us after a while. “The game’s starting guys. Can you see from back here?”
“Kickoff!” Eli yelled.
“Dude,” Alex replied, grabbing another can of coke and scrambling toward the adults and the TV.
There were only five adults and the tiny tot besides Dad and Sheree, but they seemed to fill up all the sofas. Eli and Alex headed for the floor close to the television.
I really hoped Jake and Kent wouldn’t sit up there too. Camille and I couldn’t get away with sneaking looks at the guys if all the adults were behind us.
Jake eyed Camille’s miniskirt. I was getting peeved until he pulled out the bar chairs and dragged them over behind the couch.
So he was being considerate instead of lecherous. I hoped.
Kent and I each grabbed one of the remaining chairs and arranged them in line with Jake’s. Kent ended up by the wall with Jake beside him. I managed to sit by Jake with Camille on my other side.
Our team scored almost immediately. The little cheerleader obviously didn’t know what was going on, but when everyone got excited and started cheering, she waved her shakers around and jumped up and down.
A few groans quickly followed, until Tennessee intercepted the ball. They made small gains on a couple of plays.
One of the men had to comment on everything. “If the quarterback had seen the tight end, we’d be up by fourteen.”
If he started yelling at the referees, I was out of there.
A few minutes later, the preschooler got bored with the game and wandered back to us. She tugged on Camille’s skirt. “What’s your name?”
Camille answered. “And what’s yours?”
She mumbled something I couldn’t hear.
Camille leaned down to listen and the girl repeated her name.
“Oh,” Camille said, “Peyton. That’s a very pretty name.”
Made perfect sense considering how into the game her parents were. Peyton Manning had been huge as a quarterback at UT. Fans still worshipped him. I couldn’t count how many boys and girls I’d met named Peyton.
Camille motioned to me. “Peyton, this is my friend Zoe.”
“Hi,” Peyton said in her little preschooler voice.
“Do you know Jake and Kent?” Camille asked.
Peyton nodded. She smiled up at Jake.
Her mother must have been watching because she interjected, “Peyton told me she’s going to marry Jake when she grows up. He’s always so good with her.”
I glanced down at the little girl. Wasn’t that cute? But it was so not going to happen. I laughed inwardly. How sad that I was jealous of a three-year-old.
“Peyton’s my favorite girlfriend,” Jake said.
Okay. That did it.
The little girl beamed at Jake’s comment. I felt his gaze on me and turned.
He winked.
My heart melted. “You’re so sweet,” I said.
Kent groaned. “Jake, you get all the girls. Even the cheerleaders.”
Peyton giggled.
I couldn’t help myself. “Well, not all the girls, Kent. Right, Camille?”
Camille couldn’t smack me. She froze obviously trying not to draw attention to herself. But I knew I’d pay later.
“Then, again, Zoe,” Camille said. “Jake does seem to get the attention of a lot of girls. Doesn’t he? Zoe?”
Okay, so I’d pay now.
Jake turned back to the game to avoid acknowledging that comment. Kent blushed. Camille hadn’t really embarrassed me because Jake already knew about my crush. And he’d moved past it. Besides, my comment about Camille could only help, if Kent wasn’t too oblivious to catch it.
Watching the game was very much a group activity. I knew I wouldn’t get any time alone with Jake. And I couldn’t even stare at him since he was next to me. I liked being anywhere near him, though. So it was cool.
At halftime, everyone ran for the refreshments. The guys went out back to toss around a football. I guess the game raised their testosterone levels. Jake did take time to show Camille his room. She loved it, of course.
Rumpled and a little sweaty, the guys came in to watch the second half. This time, Camille managed to sit by Kent and I was stuck on the end. I didn’t mind. Too much.
After the Vols won by two touchdowns, Sheree’s friends started heading out. Dad was straightening up the kitchen, an activity that was a little too domestically intimate for my comfort. Alex’s mother picked up him and Eli.
“Dad,” I said softly, handing him some empty glasses to load in the dishwasher. “Maybe we should offer Kent a ride home.”
Distracted, he answered, “Sure, hon. Whatever you think.”
Kent and Jake were taking out the trash. I opened the back door. “Hey Kent, we can give you a ride if you want.”
Kent turned scarlet. Shy people should never have red hair.
Jake turned to hide his smile.
Kent didn’t have much choice. “Sure. Thanks.”
When we walked to the car later, I called the front seat. “It is my dad’s car,” I said snottily. I never would have behaved that way normally, but I had an agenda.
Camille’s icy glare should have frozen me.
Even Dad seemed to catch on finally, because he smiled.
Camille and Kent climbed into the back seat.
The ride to Kent’s was pretty quiet. But Camille got to ride in the backseat of the car with the guy she had a crush on, so I considered the night a success.
When I got home, she’d already sent me three emails. They weren’t friendly. I saved them in case I ever needed to cuss someone out, but I didn’t bother to reply.
She didn’t mean it.
Probably.
Chapter Nine
On Sunday morning, Anya’s call woke me at ten. Her grandmother had pneumonia again. I loved her grandmother. She was just the sweetest thing.
“Can you bring her some more of your mom’s chicken soup?” Anya asked. “Last time it really worked.”
“Sure.” I’d told her it was an old family recipe. In reality it was Campbell’s soup with extra chicken and a few drops of one of my better potions. As long as no one knew the recipe contained slime from a toad, I’d stay out of trouble. And the potion really worked, so I doubted her grandmother would mind even if she knew.
“Thanks, Zoe. I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk about Jake.” She paused, then said in a rare but unconvincing tone of concession, “I think you’re right.”
“About what?”
“You know,” she said in a singsong voice. “That I still care about him.”
Well, that was the worst possible answer. “Oh. What about Brad?”
Anya sighed. “I’m really not sure I like him as much as I thought I did.”
“Hang on, Anya,” I said. I carefully set my cell on the desk, we
nt over to the wall, and beat my head against it four times. How much trouble had I gone to and now she didn’t even like Brad?
I went over to get the phone again. “Anya, I’ll call back after I talk to Mom.”
“Okay, but—”
“Bye.” I disconnected and fell onto my bed. Could nothing go my way?
“Mom, Anya’s driving me nuts,” I yelled, stomping down the stairs. There was no sign of her in the living room. “Mom!” I continued on to the kitchen.
She sat at the kitchen island sketching a design for the next show. She didn’t look up, but I knew she’d heard me coming. She always tried to squeeze out those extra few seconds before I totally blew her train of thought.
“Anya’s grandmother has pneumonia, so I need to make her some of ‘your chicken soup.’”
Mom’s head snapped up. “She’s sick again? That’s not good.”
“No. But the soup’ll take care of her.” I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.
“Have you got all the ingredients for the potion?”
“All except the soup to put it in. Do we have any?”
Mom capped her expensive designer marker and came around to help me search the cabinets.
No luck.
“Okay,” Mom said, grabbing her car keys and purse from the kitchen counter. “I’ll run to the store. You work on the potion.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I called after her.
Then I got down to business. First, I pulled out the cast iron pot and set it on high heat on the gas stove. I measured in two cups of water. The dry ingredients were no big deal, but nausea rolled through my stomach as I uncapped the bottle of toad slime. We really needed to find a feasible substitute. Most toads actually have dry skin. Since we can only harvest from a few species, the slime is expensive.
Toad slime was an essential ingredient in hundreds of potions. We ordered it off the Internet. The slime was marketed as cellulite cream. I felt sorry for anyone who bought it by accident. Although, for all I knew, the stuff worked as cellulite cream too.
I rang Anya’s doorbell an hour later. Mom had driven me the two miles to her house. I hoped she’d answer quickly because the Pyrex bowl of soup was heavy and awkward.
“Thank God!” Anya said, opening the door almost immediately. “Let’s go.”