Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble Trilogy 2)

Mom was seconds away from tears, and I didn’t know what to do. I never messed up simple potions. Heck, I never even messed up complicated ones.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “I’ll call Dr. Finnegan. We have to fix this fast because I have tests today.”

Mom stood with her hands on her hips, which only added to her rooster-look.

“I’m so sorry, Mom.”

I dialed Finn. He was an old man, well on the inside. Old people got up really early. Please be awake. Please answer. “Zoe,” Finn answered in a sleepy voice. “Is something amiss?”

“Uh, yeah. We need your help. Mom’s health potion didn’t work. It’s bad. She has a rooster comb on top of her head.” I turned my back to my mother. “It’s big, Finn. Really big.”

“I can still hear you,” Mom said.

“I’ll be right there,” Finn said. “Don’t do anything.”

“I won’t.”

I hit end and turned to Mom. “Finn’s on his way.”

She sat back on the couch, or more accurately, fell back onto the couch.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t know what happened. Finn will fix it. He’s brilliant.”

She didn’t answer.

“I’ll get you a cold drink.”

I had no idea if she wanted a cold drink, but I needed to escape the room and the waves of agony emanating from her.

What had gone wrong?

Sure, I’d dozed for a minute, but the consistency was right. I had made sure of it.

I didn’t make mistakes. I didn’t! But if I were going to mess up, this morning would have been the time.

I walked over to where the measuring spoons and ingredients littered the counter. I reached for the bottle of orange peel and replaced the cork. Then I picked up the bottle of toad slime. I’d capped that immediately because of the odor. The tiny plastic bag of gum-myrtle root. The jar of— Wait. That wasn’t the gum-myrtle root. It was plain old black oak root. Oh my God!

Mom had messed up. Not me. What a huge relief! I didn’t want to be the one responsibility for the atrocity on top of her head. I hadn’t done it. It wasn’t my fault.

I took a deep breath. Finn wouldn’t think I was a total moron after all. The bottom line was that I should have verified everything, but that failure was way better than the epic fail I thought I’d earned this morning.

Now to fix this problem. I took another breath. I can do this. I need to think.

I heard Finn’s agitated knock all the way from the kitchen. I rushed to the door, but he had already flung it open.

Mom sat frozen on the couch. Eyes closed. Waiting for the reaction.

“Oh my dear Lord!” Finn exclaimed. “Annie, you poor dear.”

A quick glance told me Mom was about to collapse in sobs. “Finn,” I called. “In the kitchen. We need to talk.”

“Oh dear,” he said again with a last look at my mother.

Once inside the kitchen, I closed the door.

“You don’t want Annie to hear?”

“No, I don’t think she wants us to hear her crying.”

“Oh. Poor Annie.”

“I know what happened.”

“She didn’t wait long enough?”

“No. I mean she did. I mean that’s not it. Mom set the ingredients out for me, and I came down at six and brewed the potion.”

He waited.

“She gave me the wrong tree root.”

His face lit with understanding. “Instead of the gum-myrtle root, she used what? Oh dear, not palm root?”

“No!” I assured him. “Nothing that awful. Black oak.”

Finn sighed with relief. “Let’s get to work.”

“Um, Dr. Finnegan,” I said. “I need to go to school. I have a test first period.”

“Right,” he said, distracted as he searched through my potion cabinet. “School. Inconvenient, but unavoidable. Before you go, tell me what you have already prepared.”

“I’ve got a list in the library. I’ll go grab it.”

Finn didn’t answer. He kept pulling out potion ingredients and muttering to himself.

On the way to the library, I stopped at the couch. Mom had resumed her hands over her head position.

“Mom. Finn’s got this. Don’t worry. We know what happened, and he’s already working on it.”

“Really?”

“I promise.” I left her and went for the list. Then returned to Dr. Finnegan. “I have 27 potions brewed,” I told him as I handed him the paper.

“Excellent,” he said, studying my carefully compiled list. “And expiration dates as well. Good job.”

“You are going to fix her, right?” I asked. “She’s still sick on top of everything else.”

“I’ll handle it,” Finn said.

“There’s one more problem,” I said.

“Another problem?”

“I need a ride to school. I’ve already missed the bus.”

“It’s becoming quite apparent that you need a driver’s license.”

“I can’t get one until my next birthday.”

“I’ll take you to school. Are you ready now?”

“Yes. My backpack is in the living room.”

After saying goodbye to my mother, I trailed Finn to his car. I’d never paid it any attention before, but now I saw that it was a smart car.

“It’s tiny,” I said.

“Fuel efficient,” he answered.

“Is it safe?”

“Very,” he assured me. “And splendid for tight parking. I park on the street in Fort Sanders, and this little car can squeeze in anywhere.”

My school was only a few miles away. “Okay,” I said.

Finn opened the door for me, and I scrunched in.

He had the reflexes of a young person, I reminded myself. I wasn’t riding with a ninety-five-year-old man in a sardine can.

I was torn between yelling boo to check his reflexes and being as quiet as possible so as not to stress him in any way.

“Relax, Zoe. I wouldn’t endanger your life.”

“Of course not. I didn’t, um…”

“There’s always a healing potion,” he quipped.

“Har-dee har har.”

“You’re safe.”

I had a car about this size when I was four, but they didn’t let me drive it on the street. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with Mom.”

“Not a problem. I’ll have her back in action in no time.”

“I hope so,” I said.

Finn whipped into the school and dropped me right at the front door.

“Thanks,” I said. I grabbed my backpack and emerged from the car, not unlike a sea snail from its conch shell.

“I suppose your mother will pick you up?”

“I can take the bus.”

I slammed the door hard enough to shake the whole car, and Finn drove away.

“Your tutor drove you to school?” Jake’s voice reached me before I saw him.

“Uh, yeah,” I said scrambling for an excuse.

“Is your mother still sick?”

“Yes. That’s right. She is.” Perfect excuse. “So Finn offered.”

“Shouldn’t a college guy have something better to do?”

“I’m sure Mom paid him.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Your mother’s pretty sick?”

“I think she’s getting better.” At pretending she’s a rooster. Not my fault. Well, a little my fault.

“Are you okay?”

Nice of him to notice that something wasn’t right with me. I was glad he didn’t know exactly what. “I’m kind of worried about the test.”

He took my hand in his. “You’ll be fine.”

I gave his hand a squeeze. Having a boyfriend totally rocked!

My hand felt like it was going to fall off when I finished the lit exam. I had written out my essay answers in the blue book as fast as I could. Maybe I’d get lucky and get some extr

a points for writing more than anyone else. Otherwise, I could be in trouble. I didn’t have any deep or impressive thoughts on “man’s inhumanity to man” since I was distracted by the image of my mother, sick as a dog, lying there with a rooster comb.

My other hope was that all the other kids were too antsy for Thanksgiving to perform well. I know. I’m not exactly a good person when it comes to academic competition. I’m okay with that.

Before I went to lunch, I sneaked a look at my phone to see if Mom or Finn had texted. Mom had. She said that she was back to normal but still sick.