Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble Trilogy 2)

“I don’t think Mom would go for that. She’s pretty miserable. I don’t think she wants people to see her like this. She acted kind of strange when Finn was here this morning.”

“Finn came over? Even when your mom was sick?”

“Well, yeah. He’s my tutor. We had a lesson scheduled.”

“Right. A lesson.” He was quiet for a moment. “How long is he going to be tutoring you? Just til the semester’s over?”

“All year probably.”

“Great.”

“What are you doing today, Jake? Homework?”

“No. Eli came over.”

“So you played games all day.”

“Not all day. We ate lunch.”

“Which means you only put down the controllers long enough to stuff your faces.”

“Maybe.”

“Who won?”

“I can’t believe you’d even ask.”

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with my dad.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Camille texted that she was studying.

Want to Skype? I asked.

Yes!

Soon I had an open line on my laptop to Camille. We didn’t talk much since we both had to work on homework, but I didn’t feel so alone.

On Sunday, Dad stopped by to check on us.

“Hon, go ask your mother if she wants me to come up.”

“I’m sure she won’t want you to, but I’ll ask.”

“Ask her if I can take you to lunch. You must be going stir crazy, and you have to eat.”

He had a point. “I will.”

Mom did not want to see Dad. She did want me to grab a decent lunch and to bring back large quantities of soda. “And a turkey sandwich,” she said. “I’m starving, and I think I can handle it.”

“I can go,” I told Dad. “But we have a shopping list.”

“No problem,” he said.

We went out the front door to Dad’s car. Jake sat in the back seat.

My heart sped up as I thought about lunch with him. “You didn’t tell me that you brought Jake.”

“I was hoping I would be enticement enough.”

“Aw, Dad. You know I want to have lunch with you.”

“Sure you do, kid,” he said.

“Hi, Jake,” I said.

“Hi.” His grin did nothing to slow my thumping heart.

“In the front, Zoe,” Dad said. “And stop with the googoo eyes you two, you’re making me nauseous.”

“Hey,” I said.

“No offense, John, but we probably owe you some nausea.”

“Maybe, but I am your only source of transportation.” He started the car.

“Point taken,” Jake said.

I reached my right hand back between the seat and the door and found Jake’s hand.

“Are you two holding hands?”

“Are you serious, Dad? We can’t even hold hands?”

“Fine. Just don’t giggle. I can’t handle any flirting and giggling.”

“How are you on kissy noises and baby talk?”

“If I vomit, Zoe, I could lose control of the car and endanger both your lives.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “And if he vomits on the steering wheel, I’m not driving us home.”

“Okay, enough. I haven’t had good food since Friday. Let’s stop the barf talk and talk about lunch.”

When I went inside, Mom had settled back onto the couch. I checked to be sure she was adequately covered with the blanket because who knew what she might be wearing after all these hours of fever. Once glance assured me it was safe for Jake to follow me in with the rest of the groceries.

“Hey, Mom! Jake and I have groceries.”

“And your turkey sandwich.” Jake handed Mom the paper bag with the Panera turkey sandwich and the cup of ice-cold Sprite, complete with straw and everything.

“Heaven,” Mom said after taking a sip.

I set my plastic bags on the counter and took the remaining bags from Jake. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad we got to have lunch.”

“Me too.”

Then he glanced over his shoulder to see if we were alone.

“Are you going to sneak a kiss?”

Instead of answering, he reached out and cupped my cheek. Then he leaned in and touched his lips to mine.

I opened my eyes to find him smiling into mine. “I’ll call you later.”

After he left, I turned back to the groceries, afraid Mom might try to get up and help me if I didn’t get them put away fast enough. Orange juice. More Popsicles. Italian ice. More chicken soup so we could add the potion in the morning.

“Mom,” I said, walking back to the living room. “Should I brew the potion tonight instead of in the morning, or will you be tempted to use it too early?”

She held the sandwich with both hands and was chewing a bite big enough to make her look something like a chipmunk.

“Wow, you really were hungry.”

She made some affirmative yummy sounds and continued to chew.

“Will you be tempted if I brew it tonight?”

She nodded then slumped her shoulders to convey, I guess, that she wasn’t proud to admit it.

“Okay. I’ll wait until morning.” I sat down in the arm chair. “How big a bite did you take, anyway?”

Mom tried not to laugh as she finished chewing. “They make the best turkey sandwiches.”

When I finally crawled into bed, I set my alarm for five thirty so I’d have Mom’s potion ready right on time. My intentions were good, but my hand kept sneaking over and pushing “snooze.” At six, I mustered all my will-power and forced myself out of bed and down the stairs. I opened the fridge, grabbed a can of Diet Coke with Splenda, popped the top and sucked down the caffeine. Healthy? Not so much, but I couldn’t brew a potion in this state of drowsiness.

Mom came into the kitchen wearing her rattiest robe, her hair plastered to one side of her face, and her oily forehead reflecting the overhead light. “Thank goodness it’s almost over.”

I wanted to ask her if her mirror had shattered from her reflection, but I decided that would be cruel. I held my tongue.

“You know, Zoe, some fresh fruit and water would have been a better choice for getting your brain cells moving.”

I didn’t respond. I lifted my can up as if to toast her and then chugged another gulp.

Still bleary-eyed but more alert, I walked over to the cabinet with the potion ingredients. I opened the door and rummaged for what I needed. Apparently, I wasn’t doing as well as I thought because I couldn’t find the orange rind.

“I already got out the ingredients, Zoe,” Mom said wearily from her seat at the counter, looking for all the world like she might slide off her stool.

“Oh. Go back to bed, Mom. I got this.”

“Maybe I’ll wait on the couch,” she conceded.

I glanced at the ingredients on the counter by the stove, and pulled out the cast iron pot. I added the water and then started with the ingredients. The dry ingredients went first. Then the toad slime. Barf. Toad slime first thing in the morning. Uggh. I would have preferred to work with the substitute but it wasn’t fine-tuned yet. I gritted my teeth at the reminder that they’d taken my experiment away. Stupid Council. I needed to concentrate. I had to brew the potion to the right consistency, and if I let it boil too far, I’d have to start over.

Mom hadn’t gotten out the soup, so I went to the canned foods cabinet. I pulled out the fancy soup we’d gotten, and located the can opener. Maybe I should learn how to make chicken soup from scratch. I could freeze it in containers for when I needed it. When I made it for people who didn’t know the truth, like Anya’s grandmother, I always felt like a fraud. Even though I was helping them. They all thought my

mother made the best chicken soup.

Catching myself staring at the open can for who knows how long, I shook myself into action and ran back to the stove. The potion looked fine. I stood over the pot. A few more minutes should do. I was going to close my eyes for a few seconds. My mind roamed quickly to my soft, snuggly bed upstairs. Before long, I had convinced myself that I could go back to bed. Then I was in bed, and hugging my comforter to me, and Mom was calling my name.

“Zoe, wake up.”

I jerked awake to find myself standing over the stove, the potion boiling in front of me.

“Oh my gosh!”

“You could have been hurt.”

“I dozed off for a millisecond, Mom. I’m okay.”

The potion, however, almost wasn’t. I snatched up the potholders and moved the pot off the burner. I examined the brew to be sure it hadn’t passed its prime. No. It was good. I sighed with relief. The consistency was perfect.

Mom poured the soup into another pot and set it on the burner. “I’ve got it from here, Zoe. Go get ready for school.”

“Maybe a cold shower,” I mumbled.

“A warm shower will probably suffice.”

I wasn’t so sure.

Freshly showered, made up, and dressed, I ran back down the stairs to find my mother lying on the couch, her arms over her face as if to block the light.

“Seriously? You should be better by now,” I said. “Go take a shower. You’re kind of funky.”

“I should have let you brew it last night. Surely I could have behaved until morning.”

“Mom, I didn’t fall on the stove, so I really don’t think it matters.”

My mother moved her arms away from her face and sat up. She had sprouted a big, red rooster comb out the top of her head.

Chapter Nine

“What! Why? Mom, what happened?”

“Something went wrong with the potion, Zoe.”

“No way. I’ve brewed that a billion times. You must have taken it too early. You must not have waited long enough.”

“I know I was sick by six on Saturday morning, Zoe. I was rolling around in my sleep for hours before that. I should have had plenty of time, extra time.” Her voice rose hysterically. “Zoe, not only do I have a giant thing on my head, I’m still sick. I feel like dog doo, and I can’t handle this.” She pointed to the top of her head.