Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble) Read online

  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.

  No one heard a peep from Anya on Sunday, and part of me wondered if she’d been shipped off to military school. When I saw her at her locker on Monday, I felt a flicker of relief. Anya turned to face me, her arms crossed, and her face mottled with fury.

  I stopped, mid-stride, confused by the hostility. “Um, Anya?”

  “I am grounded forever, and it’s all your fault!” Her eyes blazed as she took a step toward me. “How could you, Zoe?”

  I opened my mouth and a cross between a laugh and squeak came out. Was she serious?

  “I don’t even have a phone! And Camille’s stupid mother embarrassed me in front of Brice. He probably won’t ever speak to me again!”

  “Anya, I don’t think you should be trash-talking Camille’s mother,” I cautioned in a quiet voice.

  “No, she shouldn’t,” Camille snapped angrily from behind me.

  I turned to see Camille’s angry expression mirroring Anya’s. Only this time, the rage wasn’t directed at me.

  “Zoe,” Camille said, her eyes still on Anya, “walk with me.”

  “I’d love to,” I said, and turned to leave with my real friend.

  We heard the locker slam as we walked down the hall. “She bl
ames my mother?” Camille asked with outrage.

  “And me apparently,” I said.

  When I got to homeroom, I realized I was in danger of crying. I didn’t do well with people yelling at me, even if they were totally in the wrong and I was in the right. Jake hadn’t gotten there yet, so I took my usual seat. Seconds later, he walked through the door, and I instantly perked up at his smile. Stupid Anya.

  “Hey,” he said in that deep voice that made my heart beat faster.

  The boy truly was beautiful, with his blue eyes and blond curls.

  “Hey,” I said as he slid into the desk next to me.

  He reached for my hand and raised it to his lips, a new morning ritual that I adored.

  “Mr. Townsend!” our teacher, Mrs. Hale, said as she entered the room. “Kindly refrain from pawing at Miss Miller during school hours.”

  I snatched my hand back as the room erupted in laughter. Mrs. Hale had a habit of using embarrassment to control our behavior. I’d never been her victim before, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Jake winked at me and I smiled. Totally worth the rebuke.

  When I looked up at Mrs. Hale a few minutes later, she winked at me too. Most of my teachers liked me. It’s a good thing they didn’t know I’d caused the Frog Fiasco. If I let my guard down, I could hear the sound of the frogs splatting as my mom drove us home that night. The frogs and toads had covered the streets, flooded swimming pools, and sent scientists and the Council scrambling to gain control. Yeah, I’d brought a plague down upon the entire planet. But it wasn’t my fault. I’d accidentally mixed a table full of nacho toppings by falling into it, and the magic loose in the air on Halloween had done the rest. The result, other than a lot of frogs, had been disclosure of my toad slime substitution, and the Council sending Dr. Finnegan to work with me.

  Anyway, as I watched Mrs. Hale take attendance, I found myself thankful that non-magic people, the majority of the planet’s population, had no idea I was to blame.

  “Present,” I said on cue, even though she obviously knew I was in the room.

  When Mrs. Hale nodded and moved on, I leaned toward Jake and whispered, “Did you hear about Anya?” We hadn’t discussed it yesterday at the rink.

  “Kent told me. She’s grounded.”

  “Yeah, and she blames me for not going over there.”

  “Why’d she sneak out anyway?”

  I guess Kent hadn’t told him everything. “Some guy she likes.”

  “Oh.”

  Jake had dated Anya for more than two years, and both of us worked hard to avoid thinking about their history.

  “She’ll get over it,” he said softly, and then louder, “Present,” when Mrs. Hale got to his name on the roll.

  “I’m getting tired of her drama,” I whispered.

  “You’ll get over that too. You guys have been friends forever.”

  We had, but I wasn’t so sure I was going to overlook yet another tantrum from Anya. Camille had been incensed about Anya’s comment about her mother. She may not forgive Anya either.

  English was next, and sitting through a class with Anya was going to be interminable.

  Chapter Three

  Anya shot daggers at me with her eyes for fifty minutes in English, but then I had biology with Jake, Kent, and Camille. In third period Western Civilization, Camille and I concentrated on ignoring Anya. Normalcy returned after lunch, where Anya chose to ignore us and eat outside, and continued until I got home.

  Beginning at about seven o’clock, Anya started calling. No doubt her mother had given up on her punishment already. I didn’t bother to listen to her messages. When she finally gave up and texted me, I relented enough to read it. I’m so so so sorry. Please forgive me. Best friends forever.

  Anya was apologizing already? No way. She couldn’t mean it. She held grudges, and she would not have gone from ticked-off psycho to Miss Apologetic in less than twelve hours.

  She wanted something, I realized. She had a reason to say she was sorry. I turned my attention back to my math.

  Mom tapped on my door around nine.

  “Come in.”

  My mother stepped into the room. “You okay?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “You aren’t going to like this, but Anya is coming home with you tomorrow.”

  “Mom! I don’t want to deal with her!”

  “I know you don’t, Zoe, but her mother asked if she could spend a couple hours here after school. She doesn’t want to leave her at home unsupervised. And after hearing about her behavior, I can’t say I blame her.”

  “Seriously? She screamed at me. She called Camille’s mother ‘stupid.’”

  “I know. I’m not requiring you to be nice. Just to let her stay here.”

  “Fine,” I said, opening my laptop to instant message Camille and complain. Mom had already promised anyway. She didn’t like to go back on her word.

  “Thanks, Zoe.”

  Tuesday flew by. Jake and Camille couldn’t believe I was going to have put up with Anya this afternoon.

  Neither could I. I spent most of the day trying to pretend she didn’t exist.

  It didn’t hit me until we got to my house and Anya saw the picture on the refrigerator of me and Dr. Finnegan that we were in for some trouble.

  “Oh my God! Who is this hottie?” she demanded as soon as she saw it.

  “Nobody,” I said.

  She snatched the picture out from the magnet to examine it more closely. “Zoe Miller, you have so been holding out on me! Is this like some hot cousin or something?”

  “No.” I quickly calculated my chances of Anya not seeing Dr. Finnegan when he came to the door. Very bad. May as well tell her now. If I tried to lie, she’d find me out and get mad. “He’s my tutor.”

  Anya’s eyes widened. “He’s your chemistry tutor?”

  I nodded.

  She started laughing. “Oh, Zoe, now I see why you’re willing to waste your time! I should have known there was a reason.”

  After all these years of friendship, she should have known studying science wasn’t a waste of time for me. “Whatever,” I said.

  “So how old is he? Is he in high school or college?”

  He’s a ninety-five-year-old man and a brilliant potions master, I wanted to say. “College,” I said since that sounded more reasonable.

  “He’s so cute that I don’t even care if he’s smart.”

  He’d most definitely care that she wasn’t. Okay, so that wasn’t fair. She wasn’t dumb, just easily distracted. By boys.

  “When does he get here?” she asked, reaching into her purse and pulling out a lip gloss.

  “Five,” I said, wondering how I was going to make this up to Dr. Finnegan.

  “How much are you paying him anyway?” Anya asked. “My mom would probably love it if I took some chemistry lessons.”

  No way. “He’s full up,” I said. “There’s a waiting list. It took me six months to get in.”

  She didn’t look fazed.

  “And you have to take a science aptitude test first.”

  “A science test?” Her shoulders slumped. “Does he teach anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, well,” she said giving up on the tutoring notion. “I can at least see him on Mondays at your house.”

  Lucky me.

  The doorbell rang at ten minutes before five.

  “I’ll get it,” Anya said, jumping up from the couch a split second ahead of me.

  “Anya! It’s my house,” I wailed as I chased her across the living room.

  She opened the door to reveal Dr. Finnegan wearing another T-shirt and some khaki shorts.

  He took one look at Anya and grasped the situation. She wasn’t subtle, and while I couldn’t see her face, I suspected she was batting her eyelashes at him.

  “Hi,” she gushed. “I’m Anya, Zoe’s best friend. She was telling me about you, and how she had to wait six months to land you as her chemistry tutor. But I’m sure yo
u can make exceptions to the waiting list when you really want to. Can’t you?”

  Dr. Finnegan blinked twice and then glanced at me.

  I grinned. He was in big trouble walking around looking that gorgeous.

  “Well, hello, young lady,” Dr. Finnegan said. “I didn’t realize Zoe had a guest.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dr. Finnegan.”

  “Doctor?” Anya laughed. “How can he be a doctor when he’s only, what, nineteen?”

  Oh crud. “It’s, um, a courtesy title. For tutors. You’ve never had a tutor, so you wouldn’t know.” I turned back to Dr. Finnegan. “I know that as a college student your time is very valuable and that I committed to freeing my schedule for you, but I forgot about my friend coming over. Her mother should be here soon.”

  He raised his chin slightly in a nod of understanding.

  “Why are you talking all weird like that, Zoe?” Anya asked.

  Because you’re ruining everything! “Weird like what, Anya?”

  Dr. Finnegan cleared his throat. “May I come in while we’re sorting out our schedules?”

  “Oh,” Anya said. “Sorry.” She stepped back to let him in the house.

  Dr. Finnegan stepped into the living room. “As for the courtesy title,” he said with a grin. “Maybe you should call me Finn.”

  Finn definitely suited him.

  “Okay, Finn,” Anya said clamoring for attention.

  I stood in the living room unsure about what to do next.

  “You can go ahead and start,” Anya said. “I’ll just watch.”

  Watch us brew potions? Not going to happen.

  I looked to Finn for help.

  “Let’s get started then,” he said. “We’ve been setting up at the kitchen table.” We walked to the kitchen and Dr. Finnegan sat on the far side of the table. Anya pulled out a chair right across from him. The better to ogle him from. I sat next to her.

  “We’ll start by reviewing the periodic table. Why don’t you run through the Dubnium facts?” Dr. Finnegan kept his eyes on mine, probably to avoid the looks Anya was shooting him.

  Nicely done. Bore her with chemistry. “Atomic number 105. Symbol Db. A radioactive synthetic metal,” I began.

  Fifteen elements later, I glanced at Anya. She should have been screaming and running for the door. Apparently, the view was worth the boring chatter. She continued to stare dreamily at Dr. Finnegan.