Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble) (3 page)

“We could use a potion.”

“To make me a better skater? No way. The penalty would be terrible.” Witches were limited as to self-serving magic. If I brewed a self-serving potion, basically any potion that would benefit me, I would be punished with some horrible detraction from my appearance. Historically witches had been punished with crooked noses, green skin, and giant warts. In the last few centuries, the price for the magic had been more varied and unpredictable.

Once I sprouted an elephant trunk or giant zits or whatever, I would have to do selfless volunteer work in order to work off the punishment.

“The punishment for protecting your tailbone would be minimal,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “For heaven’s sake! I’m not going to break anything. I’m going to humiliate myself.”

“You’ll be fine. You just need to get your balance.”

With a huff, I said, “Mother, I have been trying to get my balance for fifteen years now! I doubt I’ll find it in the skating rink.”

“Now you’re exaggerating,” she said. “You have found your balance, many times, and you’ll be fine. I’ve seen you walk and chew gum simultaneously.”

“Gee,” I said with a big fake grin. “I feel better. Thanks, Mom. You fixed everything.”

“Smart aleck,” Mom said. “You kids are there to help with the coat drive. Focus on that and you’ll be fine.”

I picked up the box of toasted oats and poured some in the bowl.

“Maybe if you’re so busy working, they’ll run out of skates in your size.”

She’d given up on the encouragement approach already. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom.”

She sighed. “I am a bit worried about your bones.”

“My bones are fine!”

“Of course,” she said. “Don’t forget to drink up all the milk when you finish the cereal. Calcium cannot hurt.”

I glared at her, but I ate my cereal and then drank the milk. After I rinsed the bowl and set it in the sink, I followed Mom to the living room to see the pile of coats.

“I found five.”

“We have way more than five.”

“Yes,” Mom admitted. “But I want to keep a few for emergencies, like company, or a power outage, or snow.”

“Two more,” I demanded. “Give me two more, and I’ll be satisfied.”

“How about one?”

I gave her my “don’t mess with me” look, and she sighed and went after the coats.

Mom dropped me off at the parking lot of the skating rink where the large sign read, “Free admission today with a coat for the cold.” Jake was waiting outside, clipboard in hand.

I’d gotten out of the car and hugged him when Kent and Camille pulled up next to us.

A man and woman from Coats for the Cold drove up in a U-Haul truck. They opened the back to reveal eight large wooden boxes for people to put their coats in.

Kent and Jake helped unload the boxes, which thankfully had wheels, and lined them up along the side of the parking lot. “We’ll have some set up out here for those who want to drive up and donate, and we’ll have some inside for those who are skating.”

Four other students got dropped off to help while we were rolling the bins into the skating rink and setting them up.

“If you can sort them into men’s, women’s, and children’s before we get here to pick them up, that would be terrific,” the guy from Coats for the Cold said.

“No problem,” Jake said.

“If some of them are grungy, don’t worry about it,” the woman added. “We take them all to a local laundry and dry cleaners who clean them for free.”

“I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you doing this, Jake,” the guy said. “We have programs in various office buildings, churches, and elementary schools that are quite successful, but high school students haven’t exactly jumped at the opportunity in the past.”

Jake grinned. “Thank you, sir. We’ll see you at six.”

“I’m surprised Dad and Sheree didn’t insist on helping,” I said as Jake and I attached the signs he had printed to the giant boxes.

“I told them they couldn’t,” Jake said. He taped the “Women’s” sign on the largest bin. “I didn’t want them taking over.”

I could picture Sheree dominating this project. Dad too. “Good point,” I said.

Jake set the tape and papers on the nearby table. Then he came closer, wrapped his arm around my waist, looked me in the eyes, and said, “And I wanted to spend time with you. Without the parents. Your dad still makes me nervous.”

He made me nervous too. I was pretty sure he would have forbidden me from seeing Jake if Dad hadn’t been dating Sheree. He couldn’t make it look like his girlfriend’s son wasn’t good enough for me, and he couldn’t admit he didn’t trust Jake. I saw Jake a lot, but it was either with the parents or at school. I smiled back at him. “You are a genius.”

He glanced around us quickly and then touched his lips to mine, soft, quick, and utter perfection.

“We have to get to work,” he said, tracing my bottom lip with his finger. “But we’ll have some time later to ourselves. The owner thinks most of the skaters will be here before two with a few trickling in after.”

If most of the donations were in by two, we’d have four hours left to either stay busy or skate. The blood drained from my face, but I struggled to smile at Jake. “Great,” I squeaked.

His eyes narrowed as if to question my sudden change in mood, but I got lucky because one of the guys called for him to come out front.

As soon as he walked away, Camille came running over, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “You guys are so cute together.”

“Thanks. How cute will we be after I fall on my face on the ice?”

“Oh,” Camille said. “I forgot.”

How she could forget my trademark clumsiness, I had no idea, but Jake didn’t seem to remember either.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” She reached out to pat me on the hand. Her cheeks were a perfect shade of pink from the chill in the air, and the crisp white hat and scarf contrasted with her straight black hair.

“My plan is to stay busy with the coats.” Then an idea struck me. “I can make a list of them. That will take forever.”

“Do they need a list?”

“No, but that isn’t the point. I can’t skate, Camille. I don’t want Jake to see how pathetic I am.”

“He’s known you forever,” she said. “Surely he knows how path—Um, I mean, surely he knows that you aren’t the most coordinated person.” She gave me a look of misery.

“I know what you mean, Camille. Don’t worry about it. The truth is the truth.”

Camille grimaced. “The list is a great idea. I think you should do it!”

I always had a notebook in my purse, and I had at least one pen.

By two o’clock, we had over three hundred coats. Donations were still going strong outside. Jake, Camille, Kent and I manned the inside.

We had started going through the coat pockets to get out the gum wrappers, tissues, eww, pencils, and notes. Camille found a crumpled twenty, and we decided she should buy some used coats to donate next time she went to the thrift store.

“Oh, look,” Camille said after unfolding a piece of notebook paper. “Lisa D. has a big crush on Owen W.”

“Really?” I was intrigued at the thought of those two as a pair. “I wonder if Owen knows?”

“I don’t think it matters,” Kent said, pointing at the coat. “That coat would never fit a high schooler.”

I examined the pink furry coat, and admitted that it carried a very fifth grade message. “I guess it is a couple years old.”

“How sad,” Camille said, crumpling the note and tossing it into the trash. “Star crossed lovers, I guess.”

I caught Jake’s gaze and we laughed.

Kent grabbed Camille’s hand and raised it to his lips. “Better them than us,” he said.

Camille’s eyes lit with warmth, and she jerked Kent’s arm to pull him closer.

I looked away as they kissed.

Then I felt the reassuring touch of Jake’s hand on the small of my back, and I turned into him. His warmth enveloped me and I moved closer. He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Thanks for helping today.”

“You did a lot of good today,” I told him. “It’s a huge success.”

The joy radiated off of him. He pulled me into a tight hug. I laid my cheek against the warmth of his strong shoulder and reveled in his embrace.

“Zoe,” Jake whispered against my head. “Skate with me?”

I closed my eyes for a long moment before answering. “Of course,” I said.

He pulled away and said, “Let’s find some skates.”

We went over to the counter. For a moment, Mom’s theory about the shortage of skates looked to be a real possibility.

“No more ladies’ nines,” the clerk said.

Hallelujah! I was saved!

“I’ll have to get you a men’s eight,” she continued. “That should work. Just lace it tightly.”

No way. I was going to have to skate, and I was going to have to do it wearing men’s skates?

The woman set them in the window with a loud plunk. The skates were ugly and masculine and they taunted me as I stared at them.

I should get it over with. I should just take a running start and dive onto the ice, sliding along on my stomach like the uncoordinated loser I was.

“Those are even uglier than mine,” Jake said as he walked awkwardly toward me on the blades of his rented skates.

I grabbed them, socking myself in the stomach when they were heavier than I had expected. After hurrying a few feet away to a bench, I sat and said, “She told me these are hard to use. Defective actually. And she didn’t recommend that I even try.”

Jake sat next to me and took my hand. “You think you’re going to fall on your face.”

“No,” I shook my head. “I know I’m going to fall on my face. And other things.”

“I don’t know how to skate either, Zoe. We’ll be fine. We won’t be pretty, or fancy, or win any awards, but we’ll have fun. I’ll hold you.”

I eyed him. “That just means we’ll go down together.”

His eyes darkened. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather roll around on the ice with.”

A laugh escaped. “Okay,” I said with a grin. “If you really want to do this.”

“I want to do this,” he said. Then he half knelt, half fell onto the floor next to my feet and pulled off my red leather slides to reveal the thick grey socks I’d put on this morning. He held out his hand for a skate and I handed it to him.

I watched as he unlaced it, pulled up the tongue, and set it down for me to press my foot in. Once I had my foot tucked into the skate, he carefully laced it, a little more tightly than was comfortable. Then he did the same with the other skate. For those few moments, I was Cinderella and he was Prince Charming. Too bad we’d soon be spastic Popsicles twitching on the ground in front of everyone.

“Are you ready?” he asked after rising to stand on his wobbly legs. He held out both hands.

I took his hands, focusing on his brilliant blue eyes, and let him pull me up on the blades.

“Four steps to the ice,” he coaxed. “We’ll stop and hold on to the wall until we get our balance.”

Until he found his balance. I’d never find mine.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” I said. Together we took four long steps to the wall.

He stepped onto the ice and moved far enough along the wall that I had to join him. I supported pretty much all of my weight on my arms and slid my legs around onto the ice.

“Zoe,” he said softly. “I think you are going to have to use your legs for this.”

“Crud,” I said. Then I slowly transferred some of my weight to my legs. This wasn’t too bad.

“The brakes are on the front,” he said. “Lean the front down slowly to stop moving.”

I blinked at him.

“Never mind. I’ll be your brakes.”

Thank God. I met his gaze, knowing he read the panic in my eyes.

“You’re going to have to relax,” he said. “Maybe it would help if you picture your father ice skating.”

“He would be way worse than me,” I said with a grin. “You know that, right?”

“I do,” he said. “Zoe, this is supposed to be fun.”

“I’m having fun,” I said with an overly bright smile.

Then Jake pushed away from the wall and sat with a thud on his rump on the ice.

A group of girls from our school giggled as they skated past us.

“Is this enough?” he asked. “Or should I—” He leaned forward into a crawling position and then lowered himself, flat on his stomach onto the ice.

I laughed so hard that my feet slid out from under me. I landed on my rear end on the ice and whacked the back of my head against the wall. The sharp pain in my skull didn’t interrupt my giggling.

Jake crawled toward me and sat cross-legged next to me. “You hit your head?”

I nodded through my laughter.

“And you are okay?”

“Yes,” I said, reaching for his hand and holding it between both of mine. “I’m fine. Thank you, Jake.”

“Does that mean you are ready to skate?”

“Yes.”

I watched as Jake pulled himself to a standing position, bit-by-bit, by gripping the wall. Then he reached down and I squealed as he pulled me up without losing his balance. “Nicely done,” I said, clutching the wall.

He grinned at me.

I took a deep breath and removed one hand from the wall, and then I started scooting my feet in skating motions as I held on to the wall with only one hand.

Jake came up beside me and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Let go,” he said.

I did.

For about three minutes, we actually skated. Jake gliding along and me, stiff-legged, propelled ahead by his movements. Then I pitched forward, and Jake grabbed my sweater, and he overcorrected, which landed both of us on the ice again.

I didn’t care who watched, pointed, or laughed at us. I cracked up as he crawled and I scooted toward the wall. I couldn’t remember the last time I had this much fun.

“Jake,” I panted as I strained to pull myself to a standing position. “Thank you.”

He winked.

I reached up and pulled some ice shavings from his blond curls.

When we were both standing, he took my hand. “Shall we go again?”

“Yes, my prince,” I said, unable to resist.

“Wait,” Camille called from the other side of the wall. She held up her phone and we posed for a photo.

And we pushed away from the wall, attempting to make it farther around the oval rink.