Stirring Up Trouble Page 2

  Milo and I had decided that I’d use a potion to avenge him. Unfortunately, we didn’t wait for our afternoon session on magic. If we had, we’d have known about the punishments for self-serving magic. And we would have realized that he’d be punished if I acted on his behalf. The ram horns curling out of either side of his head were way worse than the baldness potion I’d used on the other kids. They could wear hats. Milo could not. Nothing covered the horns.

  We’d both promptly been kicked out, and we’d had to return again the next summer. By the end of that second summer, we were really close friends.

  Both his parents were magic. One with spells, the other with potions. He’d only gotten spells. I’d rather he had potions like me, but at least he had some magic. He was really my only magic friend. Other than my mom. And she didn’t count because she was not real good at magic.

  I grinned. He’d sent me an e-card. We had this ongoing joke where we sent totally inappropriate cards to each other. Last week, I’d found one that talked about how it was what’s inside that counts. I’d modified it to read, “Good luck on your sex-change operation.” Milo had loved it.

  This card contained a touching, compassionate message about menopause. Then, a drawing of a scary-looking woman with bulging eyes popped up. “What the hell do you mean I have mood swings?” She pulled out a shotgun and fired at me.

  Not bad, I admitted. Milo had done well. Maybe I could find something for men going bald or hemorrhoids. I closed out my email. I could work on that this weekend.

  I double-clicked on the Word file marked “challenges.” Mom said it was better to label them challenges than problems. Some sort of psychobabble thing, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. I had four main issues to deal with. Number one, surviving the tenth grade. Sure, millions of people had lived through it before me. One month into the school year, I still wasn’t convinced I’d make it. Number two, dealing with Dad. I had no better idea how to manage my divorced Dad than I had yesterday. Number three, getting over Jake. I highlighted number three and bolded it. After my conversation with Anya, I had to strengthen my resolve. Must not have crush on Jake. Number four wasn’t any easier than the rest. Surviving in a world full of non-magic people.

  Luckily, I had some tools for this. I had my bud Milo. And I had the laminated trump cards in my wallet that he’d traded me for some feline health potion. Each card could be used up to ten times. One spell caused a sneezing attack. The other caused vomiting. At camp, we’d learned to carry emergency distractions such as these in order to buy time in incriminating situations. Like, say, you turned your teacher into a frog. If she was sneezing uncontrollably, she might not notice. Okay, she’d notice, but for lesser infractions, a sneezing fit could work well.

  I’d never had to use them to protect myself. I hated to make somebody suffer through it. Before I’d gotten the cards from Milo, I’d carried a vial of sneezing potion in my backpack. In sixth grade, the books got heavier, and I managed to crack the glass. I got hit with such a high dose when I pulled out my math book that I probably would have sneezed for ninety-six days straight. Of course, I was lucky enough to have Mom brew me an antidote.

  I shuddered. The cards were definitely a better solution.

  I’d used the sneezing card for the first time to help out Camille last week. We were sitting in history class and she kicked her purse. A tampon rolled out right into plain sight under her chair. She didn’t notice, but I couldn’t leave her hanging like that. So, I picked up the spell card and sent a sneezing fit to a kind-of-popular jock in the second row on the other side of the room.

  Unfortunately, he had some kind of cold or sinus thing going on. The attack hit him so suddenly that he didn’t have time to cover his nose. He sprayed the row in front of him with snot droplets. The ensuing chaos provided great cover for Camille to grab the tampon and tuck it back into her purse. Of course, they’re calling Mike “the Snot Sniper” now. Once basketball season starts back up, he’ll probably be okay. Basically I had deflected an embarrassing situation by humiliating someone else. That was the problem with magic. You could almost never control the variables.

  One thing I could control was Snowball’s health. I headed to the kitchen and got the ingredients out for the potion. I’d prepared it so many times that I didn’t need to check the order.

  I measured everything out into little glass cups, like on those cooking shows. When the water boiled, I put in the teaspoon of echinacea, the capsule of Vitamin D, four orange seeds, one teaspoon of margarine, a half cup of slime from the three-day-old pasta, an egg, and a pinch of unicorn horn. I removed the cauldron from the heat, with a grunt, and waited for it to congeal. Then, I whipped it with a whisk until it was watery again and poured it into the glass bottle, and closed it with the specially treated cork stopper.

  I didn’t have leftovers, but the pot had to be salted before washing for this type of potion according to Finnegan’s Treatise on Environmental Emergency Aversion. Before Dr. Martin Finnegan had come up with procedures for different types of potions, we’d had some real problems. I shook in the salt and headed for the sink.

  Chapter Two

  “It’s Brad, isn’t it?” Jake asked before homeroom the next day.

  “What? Where?” I hadn’t been ready for this question when I’d taken my usual seat beside him. I hadn’t even had time to admire the new mossy green button-up shirt he wore.

  “That’s who she likes,” he prompted.

  “Anya?” I asked sounding like a total idiot. The things I do for friendship. I plopped my backpack on the desk and fiddled with my jean jacket collar.

  He leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms in a casual manner. “You can just answer me. I already know. I saw her waiting for him this morning out front.” He didn’t sound too upset.

  “She was?” She hadn’t told me that. I braved looking at Jake. If I had to listen to her complaining, I should at least hear her decisions.

  “I guess he’s okay,” Jake said. “He didn’t badmouth Tiffany after they broke up. And from what I heard, she deserved it.”

  “So you’re okay with them going out?” I asked, examining his eyes as if I could read the truth. I hadn’t thought he would be.

  He shrugged. “It’s just weird. You know. Everything’s been the same for so long. Now, it’s all changing.”

  We’d been buds for a while, but I didn’t think we’d ever had a conversation on our own that lasted this long. Luckily, the homeroom teacher hadn’t told the class to be quiet yet. “Like what?” I asked. “Besides Anya?”

  Jake looked down at his desk. “Well, my mom broke up with her boyfriend. And she’s seeing some other guy.”

  His mom’s boyfriend had lived with them, so it must be almost like a divorce. “Weren’t they together for like, forever?”

  “Since I was five,” he said. “Now she’s met some kind of nuclear physicist or something.”

  “What?” My breath caught, and not in a good way. The only nuclear physicist I knew was my father. But fate couldn’t be that cruel.

  “Yeah, she’s all into this guy, John.” He didn’t sound happy.

  “John Miller?” I winced, mentally banging my head on the desk because I already knew the answer. Fate could be that cruel.

  “Yeah,” he said. His brow jerked up as he realized that was my last name. “He’s not related is he?”

  “Oh, we’re related all right.” I sighed. “He’s my dad.”

  His eyes widened. “No way is my mom dating your dad.”

  I groaned. “You’d think it was impossible, but here we are.”

  “I thought Anya said your dad left your mom for his secretary?”

  “Lab assistant,” I corrected. I still hadn’t come to terms with that betrayal. “And she dumped him. So he’s moved on.”

  “To my mother.” He clenched his jaw. “Your dad sounds like—”

  I interrupted him before he could make me mad. “Just pretend he’s not my dad, and think what y
ou want. I really don’t claim him anymore. Except every other weekend.” Dad was totally screwing up my life.

  I didn’t think I could even share this with my mom. She probably couldn’t handle it. I probably couldn’t even handle it.

  Jake shifted in his seat. “So when my mom runs around getting ready for her date, she’s trying to look hot for your” —he gulped— “dad?”

  I just smiled. I mean sometimes you either laugh or cry. I really, really wanted to laugh. Because crying sucked.

  At lunch, Anya, dressed to the nines in a new funky jacket and chunky jewelry, had no trouble laughing at my latest Dad woes. “Oh my God! That’s just hilarious!”

  Thankfully, most of our friends had gone outside to eat. I tried to chew my sandwich. It tasted like sand. Dry, dirty sand.

  “Of all the people for your father to date. He has to date Jake’s mom.” She completely cracked up. “Jake is going to hate his guts.”

  At least no one could hear us over the noise in the cafeteria. “I think he already does.”

  Anya had no trouble plowing through her lunch despite the fact that the chicken sandwich smelled like a cat litter pan. My stomach obviously couldn’t handle the stress.

  “At least this works out well for you.” She bit into her sandwich again.

  “How’s that exactly?” Maybe I was missing something.

  She held up her hand and swallowed. “Well, you already know Jake’s mom is cool. So you don’t have to worry about some horrid girlfriend.” She popped some M&M’s in her mouth.

  Anya knew all about my stepmonster fears. “I like his mom,” I said, propping my chin in my hand, “and now I have to watch her with my dad. That’s not good. My dad isn’t good enough for her.” Dad couldn’t be trusted.

  “Well, that’s true,” Anya agreed.

  “He’ll either bug the crap out of her or dump her. And it’s not like I can warn her. She’ll think I’m just being obnoxious.” I forced the lump of sandwich down with some water and gave up on my lunch.

  “Maybe your mom can pick you up early,” Anya suggested. “Shopping might help.”

  We’d done lots of shopping after the divorce. “I don’t think I’m even going to tell her. Plus, she’s at the hospital rocking sick babies.”

  “Your mom is such a good person,” Anya said, clearly impressed. “She works all the time, and then when she has a vacation, she donates her time. She’s really something.”

  She was something all right. If Anya knew the whole story, she might not be so complimentary. “She’s a better person than Dad,” I compromised.

  Anya’s icy blue eyes, courtesy of contact lenses, widened with pity. “Poor Jake,” she said. “Maybe I should call him.”

  Of course, I thought. What could be more perfect than Anya and Jake getting back together because of my dad?

  When I got out of school, I found four text messages from Milo on my cell phone. He really needed to work on that whole patience thing.

  Milo used his spells to work on feeding the homeless. He’d never admitted to using any spells on animals. Although, his guinea pig had been alive for eight years. Either he was using the potion, or his mom and dad had been replacing him at regular intervals. I wasn’t sure which was more likely.

  He’d only been waiting a week. But he knew the results were coming today, and he was apparently freaking out.

  Milo had discovered a way to combine spells and multiply objects, including cans of food, by ten. His goal was to help the poor. A month ago, he’d managed the spell. But it had taken a while to get my dad in touch with his old chemist pal who could evaluate the nutritional value of the food. We were a little fearful that the multiplication process robbed the vegetables of some nutrients. Milo really didn’t want to feed vegetables with fewer nutrients to the poor. They had enough problems already.

  The fourth text message indicated that Milo was coming a little unglued. He’d spelled two of the words wrong. Since there were only four in each message, two was a lot. Milo, the champion speller, had messed up half the words in “R they there yet?” He’d written “S the there yet?”

  I turned the power off on the phone. No way was I talking to him until I had the results. And they’d better be good.

  After the bus let me off at my stop, I turned the phone on again. I hated feeling cut off from the world.

  I found a text from my dad. He had the results for Milo. He’d emailed them to me. I didn’t pull them up on my phone. Instead, I unlocked the house and ran up to my room. The results were great. Milo’s spell worked like, well, a charm. He’d turned one can of vegetables into ten and hadn’t lost any of the nutritional value.

  I pressed “2” on my cell and waited for it to dial Milo.

  “Do you have them?” He sounded so anxious.

  “Of course, I do. Otherwise, I’d still be dodging your calls.”

  “Tell me.”

  Overlooking the possible rude factor wasn’t hard. I knew he was excited. “Okay, Okay. They were perfect. The potatoes, the carrots, and the beans. They all had the right vitamins, fiber, everything.”

  “And the corn?”

  “Same thing. No problems. I already forwarded you the spreadsheet.” I stood and picked up my laundry basket full of dirty clothes. Doing laundry was a lot less boring when I talked on the phone. Besides, I needed some clothes to pack for Dad’s.

  “I can’t believe it.” I heard a touch of the shy child in his voice.

  “Well, believe it. You just found a way to feed ten times as many people at the food bank.” I grinned. “If there’s a nuclear war, I definitely want you in my bomb shelter. We’d never run out of canned food.”

  “Do you realize what this means?”

  “Yeah, I just said so.” Padding down the stairs, I tried not to drop the phone or the laundry.

  “I took two charms and blended them, and came up with a third. And it works. The possibilities are endless.”

  “Amazing, isn’t it. Whoever gave you the idea?” I gave myself a mental pat on the back for clearing the laundry room door without dropping anything.

  “You did, you big dork.”

  The idea had come to me about two months ago. I figured that he might be able to mix his spells like I mixed my potions. “Big dork? Or brilliant dork?”

  “Neither,” he said. “Thanks for the idea. But the spells were all me.”

  “I’m proud of you.” A quick check told me the washer was empty. I dumped my jeans and darks into the machine.

  “My parents are going to flip out.”

  I pictured Milo’s parents. “They’re going to be really proud of you.” His mom ran a food bank, and his dad was a youth minister. They didn’t use magic much, but they wanted Milo to master his spells.

  “I’m not going to tell them yet.” I could almost hear Milo rubbing his hands together like a genius hatching a plan. “I’m going to run out later and multiply all the food at the food pantry. Then, she’ll find it when she opens in the morning.”

  “Do it. It’ll be great.”

  I could hear his smile as he spoke. “I think I will. Tell your dad thanks for me. You’re so lucky to have a scientist for a dad.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up your dad.”

  He knew I wasn’t dealing well with the separation situation. “It’s okay. I am lucky he’s a scientist. I just wish I were lucky in some other ways too.”

  “I forgot to ask you. Did you try that potion to multiply food?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. Next stop, the kitchen for some caffeine.

  “I take it that your potion didn’t work.”

  “It worked.” I’d turned one small can of asparagus into a big restaurant-sized container. Like the world needed more asparagus anyway. “The asparagus had a funny taste though.”

  Milo gagged into the phone. “Asparagus. How could you even tell it didn’t taste right?”

  “I couldn’t. Obviously. I had my mother
try it.” We were down to one can of Coke. I hoped Mom was on top of the grocery situation.

  “Are you sure it tasted funny?”

  “My mother has very reliable taste buds.” She did. Even if she did eat something as gross as asparagus.

  “Too bad. We could have done a lot between the two of us.”

  “You still can.” I popped open the can and chugged.

  “Hang on,” Milo said. A few seconds later, he was back. “Zoe. I have to go. It’s Darlene.”

  “Darlene?” I tried not to show my surprise. “Isn’t that the cheerleader you like?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You dog!” I teased. “Good luck.”

  “Bye.” He hung up.

  I pushed end. Milo really liked this girl, but I never thought she’d like him. Oh sure, he’d changed since elementary school. He’d grown to almost six feet and slimmed down. And he’d gotten contacts last year. I knew he looked good, but I didn’t trust anyone to appreciate him like I did. As a friend of course. I’d never considered him as anything other than a friend.

  Darlene apparently had. I groaned. If Milo started dating Darlene, I’d be the last of my friends to find a boyfriend. Well, in Milo’s case, a girlfriend. I really didn’t like the idea of being last, or put succinctly, the biggest loser of all my friends.

  “I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” Dad said later that night when he picked me up in his Prius. “I think you’ll like her.”

  “Okay,” I said. I just didn’t feel like telling him that I knew her yet. I didn’t feel much like talking at all. I pretended not to notice that Dad had dressed up in a nice sweater with his khakis instead of his usual sloppy, untucked shirt.