Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble) (2 page)

Dr. Finnegan looked down at his shirt. “I’m not particularly happy with these clothes, but I’ve found that I attract far less attention when dressed age-appropriately.”

Okay, now I had to know what he’d worn before. A suit? I guess a teenager walking around in a suit day after day in August and September would turn a few heads.

“Brown trousers, wing tips, white dress shirt, cotton undershirt, and a tie,” Finnegan said as if reading my mind. “I wore them for sixty years, and the habit is difficult to break.”

“I think you look great,” I said, starting to feel sorry for him.

“That is neither here nor there,” he said with a wave of the hand. “The issue today is your education. I suspect you are indeed capable of greatness, as the Council believes. I’ve been told you’re passionate about your work, and your success in finding the mixture of canned tuna and fresh trout is quite impressive.”

I nodded.

“Let’s get started with some standard concepts.” He quizzed me on basic potion techniques for half an hour.

“Now explain your techniques for finding potion substitutes.”

“Um, well, I document everything carefully. You can see all of my notebooks.”

“And how do you determine which substances to test?”

I blushed, feeling foolish. “I, um, have a gut feeling about things.”

“And where did your gut lead you in the search for a toad slime substitution?”

“First I tested slime from other amphibians and reptiles in various combinations. Then I branched into fish. I started combining fresh and canned foods from the store.”

“I’d like to look over your data this evening if I may take it with me.”

Sure. I didn’t want the notebooks out of my sight, but I was honored to have him look at my work. Plus he might be able to spot some patterns in my research that could help save me time later.

“Now, I’d like to hear about your plans for the future. I’ve heard from the Council of course, but I want to hear it from you.”

I usually rattled off my life goals with confidence, but Dr. Finnegan was a legend. I lost my usual overconfidence. Normally, I knew I was awesome, but his impression of me was important. “I want to be a doctor.”

He nodded for me to continue.

“I want to combine potions and modern medicine. I want to cure disease by finding potion substitutions so that healing potions will be approved by the Food and Drug Administration. I want to save lives.” I stopped, unsure whether I saw commendation or amusement in Dr. Finnegan’s eyes.

“With any other teen, I would think you were quite the dreamer.” He reached up as if to touch his temple with his thumb and forefinger but stopped a few inches short and returned his hand to the table. “You however, well, you have already distinguished yourself in the field of potion research. Zoe, very few young people have the commitment, much less the talent and instinct, you have demonstrated.”

“Thank you, Dr. Finnegan. I am so excited to get started with you and to complete the toad slime research.”

“Child,” he said, less enthusiasm in his voice, “I am an old man with many lessons to teach you. One of them is patience.”

Somehow, I suspected the conversation was going to take a turn for the worse.

“The Council has hired staff and outfitted a large lab in order to conduct the remaining research.”

I wilted. “I guess it is too much work for just us and my father. I can’t wait to see the initial findings!”

“You and I are not pursuing the refinement of the toad slime substitution. We have other tasks, and our orders from the Council have mandated our course of study.”

My heart sank. “I can’t work on it at all?”

“Zoe, I am sad to tell you that neither of us will be ‘in the loop’ as you say.”

Straightening my spine, I took a deep breath to fight the anger building within me. How could they do this to me? They wouldn’t have a freakin’ clue without me. They wouldn’t have the substitution.

Dr. Finnegan studied me, his jaw clamped shut and a sorrowful cast to his gaze. “I sometimes find that life’s great disappointments can be abated by a physical manifestation of your rage.”

Maybe the roar of the blood rushing through my veins slowed my thought processes. Or maybe I wasn’t used to Dr. Finnegan’s ninety-five-year-old man speak. I blinked.

“Would you prefer to run around the block or go in the other room and vocalize your frustration?”

Run or… scream. I hopped off the stool and said, “I believe I shall select the vocalization option.”

Dr. Finnegan’s lips twitched and curved into a smile. “Proceed as you will.”

Turning quickly, I marched out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into my room. I slammed the door, and then I clenched my fists at my sides, opened my mouth, and screamed at the top of my lungs.

The near perforation of my eardrums shot pain and a roaring buzz through my skull. I had forgotten the part about needing to cover my ears.

I clapped my hands to my head and held my ears until my hearing started to return to normal. Then I struggled to compose myself and left my room to return to Dr. Finnegan.

He greeted me with a full smile as I walked back into the kitchen. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” I admitted. “Enough.”

“I took the liberty of advising your mother of the impending assault on her eardrums.”

I gasped. I hadn’t even thought about the scream terrifying my mother. “Thank you! It would really have freaked her out.”

“Freaked her out,” Finn repeated, concentrating like someone tasting a new food. “Freak her out.” He grinned. “A worthy addition to the vocabulary of a ‘dude’ my age?”

Smiling back at him, I said, “Maybe if you practice for a while.”

“I am sorry about the Council’s appropriation of the toad slime research. However we have a great deal of work to accomplish, and I have no question that you shall benefit from the enhancement of your studies.”

I’d been dying to study with him. With a nod, I said, “I’m sure I will too.”

“Let’s get started.” A smiled warmed his ridiculously beautiful face. “You and I shall work together on potion-brewing principles. We’ll get through the basic material quickly. Then we’ll begin the more advanced coursework. I expect to have you on a college-level syllabus within six months.” His cobalt blue eyes met mine.

Dr. Finnegan and I were working together. I grinned so wide my face felt like it would split. “Excellent.”

Mom hovered around us as we were wrapping up. “Before you go, Dr. Finnegan, would it be okay if I got a picture of you and Zoe. You know, for our scrapbook. I won’t post it on the internet or anything.”

“Mom!” I hissed, mortified by her fan-girl behavior.

“An excellent notion, Mrs. Miller. They can publish it in
Witch Weekly
after she discovers the cure for cancer.” He winked at me.

“Mom,” I groaned. “Is this really necessary?” The man was self-conscious about his appearance as it was.

“Yes.” She opened the drawer next to the fridge and pulled out her digital camera.

I gasped. She had planned this all along.

“Now stand together in front of the counter.”

We moved to do as she said. He was being a good sport but I didn’t want to send him running.

Dr. Finnegan took the whole thing in stride. “What’s that ‘rock on’ sign you kids use?”

I showed him.

He made the sign, and I grinned.

Mom snapped the picture.

“They’ll be labeling this as my second childhood anyway,” Dr. Finnegan said with a shrug. “May as well enjoy it.”

Chapter Two

As soon as Dr. Finnegan went out the front door, I turned to my mom. “It was great!”

She beamed. “Oh, Zoe. I’m so glad! I wasn’t sure considering his appearance. He’s nothing like the man I heard speak at the seminar years ago.”

I told her how quickly he planned to move forward, and she squealed. “That’s wonderful!”

As we walked back toward the kitchen, I said, “Oh, but Anya wants me to spend the night at Camille’s tonight.”

“That’s fine,” my mother said.

“Actually, I don’t really want to go. I want to mess around with some potion recipes and I need some sleep before tomorrow. But I don’t want to ditch Camille with Anya.”

“You aren’t responsible for Anya. Camille is her friend too.”

“I know. I’m going to stay home.”

“Good,” she said. “I like having you here.”

“Can I tell Anya you wouldn’t let me go?”

Mom looked at me through narrowed eyes. “Because it’s easier that way?”

“Yes.”

“You need to stand up to that girl, Zoe.”

“You mean like tell her she’s a b-word?”

“No. I mean tell her you can’t come and spare yourself the excuses.”

I sighed. “I’ll try.” I went into the living room and grabbed my cell. Instead of calling and dealing with her drama, I decided to text.
Can’t come. Sorry
.

My phone rang mere milliseconds later, Anya’s pic popping up on the screen. I hit ignore and set the phone on the table.

I had to keep my mind off of tomorrow. The idea of ice skating in front of people terrified me. I didn’t have the coordination for such a slippery sport. I didn’t want Jake to see me bruised and humiliated at the skating rink. He had dated Anya, who annoyed me plenty, but who also managed to appear adorable and feminine no matter what she was doing. I sighed as I walked back to the kitchen where Mom was. I was not looking forward to tomorrow.

The vibrating of my phone woke me just after midnight. Reflexively grabbing for it, I felt around until I found it and then raised it to look at the text.

Camille. Something must be wrong. Was there an emergency? Was she okay? She had Anya over, I remembered. She must be miserable. Groggily, I started to read the message and then sprang to full alert as the words sank in.
Call me
!
A in big trouble. Busted. Sent home
!

Pressing ‘3’ for Camille, I sat up and turned on my bedside lamp.

“Oh my God, Zoe,” she said in a rush as she answered. “She snuck out to see that guy Brice, the senior. He lives in my neighborhood.”

“Brice?”

“Yeah, Brice Quinn. He’s in a band. Adequate Orange or something.”

I couldn’t picture him. “She never even mentioned him to me.”

“Well, she is really into him all of a sudden. She left me here trying to keep my mother from noticing. But Mom came in before she went to bed at eleven and Anya was gone.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Of course. But Anya’s mother was livid. She said she’s grounded for a month, and she dragged her out of here by her ear. Seriously. I didn’t think people really did that.”

Her ear? I giggled at the image.

“I know!” Camille laughed too. “She was so mad. I’m not even sure we’ll ever see Anya again.”

Anya disappearing might not be so bad. She’d been selfish and difficult lately but she had been her old self at the dance. “You think she’ll lock her in the basement?”

“She’ll probably wish she had after her mother yells at her for a month.”

“She’s an idiot,” I said. She’d risked getting Camille punished and caused a huge scene.

“Well, duh!”

“What happened when she got home?”

“How would I know?”

“Didn’t she text you?”

“No way. The first thing her mother did when she came in the door was take her phone.”

Anya without a phone and grounded for a month. I couldn’t imagine.

On Sunday, I woke with a sense of excitement. I could sense the crisp, cold air outside and I pulled out the red sweater I’d bought with Mom. Okay, so it wasn’t all that cold outside. The chill I sensed was that of the ice skating rink where Jake, Camille, and I would be helping with the Coats for the Cold coat drive today. Camille’s boyfriend, Kent, was a good friend of Jake’s, and he’d be there too.

Jake had organized the event by working with the charity and the skating rink and starting a volunteer club at our school. The school had vetoed his first choice, a Habitat for Humanity chapter at the school. High school kids at construction sites posed too great a risk for the school board. I could definitely hurt myself around saws and hammers, but I could injure myself on the ice too.

He was going to volunteer next summer for Habitat himself. He’d learn some of the skills he needed for the Peace Corp. Every time I thought about his plans for the future, I wanted to grab him and hug him tight.

My plan was to be as helpful as possible. So helpful, in fact, that I didn’t have any time for actual ice skating. I lived in the South where hockey was nonexistent and figure skating rare. I’d been ice skating exactly twice in my life. And with my lack of coordination, as severe as if my parents had genetically engineered me for maximum clumsiness, sliding around on a tiny blade on the slipperiest surface wasn’t a good idea.

I located my baggiest pair of jeans and pulled them on over a pair of form-fitting sweats. Extra padding for the many impending falls. I would have tried for more padding, but I wouldn’t have been able to walk around, much less bend down to sort through the coats that were donated.

Since Jake was running the whole event, I hoped he wouldn’t have time to skate. If he didn’t skate, I wouldn’t have to either.

“Which coats am I taking?” I asked Mom when I walked into the kitchen.

“Good morning to you too,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind cereal this morning. I wanted to make you some nice warm oatmeal to keep you warm, but I didn’t trust the oats in the cabinet. I think they might be from 2005.”

“Eww. Good call.” I’d never liked oatmeal anyway. “Cold cereal will be perfect. Especially since I won’t be cold until I get to the skating rink and scoot along the ice on my rear end.”

“Oh.” Mom bit her lip and then said, “I didn’t realize you were skating. I assumed you and Jake would be busy with the coats.”

“I’m hoping,” I told her.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she said, but she worried her bottom lip again. “Besides, you look great in that sweater.”

“Nice try,” I said. I didn’t think anyone would care what I was wearing when I busted my butt over and over on the ice. Flailing wasn’t attractive no matter what the outfit.