Twist My Charm (7 page)

She waits a second before she answers, like she's thinking of what to say. “I got invited by…um…one of the parents,” she tells me. “They heard I work in graphic design and suggested I check out the artwork tonight. And of course I want to see yours.”

“That'd be great! I'd love that!” I stop myself. I shouldn't be using words like
love,
especially with Dad and Terri in the same place and a love potion in my pocket!

“Hey, my dad's here,” I tell Terri, though that's probably obvious. “Want to say hi?”

“Sure,” she says, “but I'm going to look around a bit first.”

“That's cool,” I say, trying to beat down my usual overenthusiasm. “We'll see you around.”

Terri laughs. “You definitely will.”

She's only a few steps away when I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Was that who I think it was?” Madison asks.

My hands are so moist and clammy I have to wipe them on my jeans. “Yes!” I say. “Terri is here and Dad is here, and here I am with…you-know-what.” I wrap my hand around the eyedropper to make sure nothing has happened to it in the last few minutes. Nope, it's still there, ready for action.

“We may have more to do than we thought tonight,” Madison says. “And I've figured out where we can start.” She grabs my arm and pulls me to a corner of the gym, pointing me toward something that would be boring and normal on any other night in history. But tonight, it's exciting beyond belief.

The refreshments table! There are plates of cookies and trays of cheese and crackers, but most important, there are two big bowls—one of lemonade and one of red-colored punch. Drinks! Perfect for dissolving and distributing STUFFS SWEET FOR YOUR HEART SWEET.

The refreshments table: where the adventure begins.

“S
o, what do you think?” Madison asks. “A few drops in each bowl and let's see what happens! The school would go crazy!”

While I agree that would be hilarious, I know what can go wrong when you're not specific enough with magic, and I don't want anything like
that
to happen again! We need to concentrate only on the people we've discussed. Madison is a little disappointed, but she understands. “One of us could probably get Sam or Larry to drink something,” I tell Madison. “But we have to make sure they're close enough to each other that the next person one of them says ten words to is the other one.”

I have to take a breath. Boy, this is complicated! But I'm glad I figured it out on my own. “Maybe we should try Sam first,” I suggest.

“Good idea! I could push Larry into her.”

“Great!” I say. “Then she'd probably say something like,
‘What the heck are you doing?
' 
”

Madison does some silent counting on her fingers. “That's six words.”

I try another option, pretending to be Sam again. “Maybe,
‘Watch where you're going, dork-ball!
' 
” That seems like an insult Samantha might use.

“Five words,” Madison says. “Unless
dork-ball
is two.”

“Maybe you push Larry hard enough into her that she spills her drink,” I suggest. “Then she'd be more mad and say something like,
‘Argh, you spilled my drink all over me, you ridiculous, lame-o dork-ball!
' 
”

“I think that's more than ten,” Madison says. “I don't feel like counting.”

I don't either. It's time to get to work.

I glance around the gym like an undercover spy sharing information with an informant on a train. Madison grins, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She starts to dip some lemonade into a plastic cup, but I stop her. Sam will like a red-colored drink better.

“Okay, cover me,” I instruct Madison as I carefully pull the bottle from my pocket and unscrew the top. Feeling like a nurse taking blood from a patient, I squeeze the dropper and see it fill with our thick, dark concoction. My hand is shaking a little as I lift the dropper over the plastic cup with the punch in it. I give Madison a nod, and she gives one back.

Squeeeeeeze.

PLOP!

After two more squeezes I speedily put the top back on the potion, hiding it deep in my pocket. Then Madison and I both look down into the cup. Our love potion is not dissolving. It looks like three small brown jellybeans enjoying a swim.

“Are there straws?” I ask. We both look around the table and quickly realize there aren't. “Oh well, only one thing to do.” I sigh.

I stick my finger in the punch and give it a gentle swirl. The blobs of love potion only break up a little, so I give it a less gentle swirl. When I'm finished, the red liquid has a brownish tint, but luckily it's inside a blue cup and hopefully Samantha won't look down at it before she drinks.

I pick up the cup, and Madison and I turn around to find Samantha.

“What did you just do?” A voice pierces through the electronica and the conversations.

It's Sam! And Larry isn't anywhere nearby!

I can't think of anything to say. The first semi-intelligent sound I make is “Hmmm?”

“What do you mean?” Madison says. Not brilliant either, but a little better than me.

“I saw you put something in that drink.”

“Oh, that!” says Madison.

“That's…” I stall for a moment. Then a moment longer. “That's my dad's medicine.”

Sam looks at us, suspicious. “What does your dad need medicine for?” Ugh. She needs to know everything all the time.

“His broken heart,” Madison says.

“His heart condition,” I quickly add, since that sounds more realistic. “He doesn't like the taste of his medicine, so he tells me to trick him.”

Samantha doesn't look like she's buying it, but before she can say anything, I change the subject. “I haven't seen your artwork yet, Sam. What did you do?”

“Oh, I'm not a great artist like you,” she says, a little sarcastically. “I glued a bunch of junk and trash together and made a sculpture. Then I put plastic flowers on top and called it
Society.
Kevin said it was deep.”

“Sounds cool,” I say, though what it really sounds like is weird.

“It's over by Madison's big orange head,” Sam says. “Want to see it?”

Madison and I look at each other and say, “Sure.” We tell Sam we'll meet her there. After she walks away, I lean in toward Madison. “This is getting complicated.”

She agrees.

“How about I take this punch over to Sam?” I say. “I'll tell her it's a different one, not my dad's. But I won't give it to her until I see you nearby with Larry.”

“Maybe we should make a drink for him too,” Madison suggests. “To be twice as sure.”

That sounds good to me, so I hand her the dropper. “Guard it with your life.”

As I hurry down one of the aisles of art, I can't believe how close this is to working! Looking at Sam's drink, I take big, fast steps—and that's when I plow into something full force. I look up and see one single punch droplet sail through the atmosphere. If I were drawing a storyboard, I'd make the droplet into a character who changes shape while bound for an enemy target. I follow its path with my eyes until it lands one second later—on Lisa Lee.

It figures.

A small red liquid dot—seriously, it's like the size of a dime—appears above Lisa Lee's heart. Even though it's springtime, she's wearing a tan coat with something that looks like white wool poking out.

Lisa Lee's mouth opens in a giant O, but no sound comes out.

“How could you do that?” says another voice. “That is suede!”

Wow! Kylie Mae has spoken. It's only to defend her queen, but it's still speaking. I'm kind of impressed.

“The coat?” I ask, not sure what she means.

“Yes!” Lisa Lee sputters, as upset as if I'd thrown motor oil or barf on her. “Suede is the material, duh, and it's made out of lambskin!”

“Well, that doesn't sound nice at all for the lambs.”

Kylie Mae steps in front of Lisa Lee, maybe protecting her from me. “Lambskin is
very
soft,” she insists. “And it's very expensive to clean!”

“Look, I'm really, really sorry,” I say. “I love your lamb coat and I didn't mean it any harm. For real. But I've got to go.” I rush away, hearing one more comment from Kylie Mae as I go.

“She didn't even know what suede is! So lame!”

I almost laugh out loud. I've finally found the topic that will make Kylie Mae use her vocal cords: suede.

I turn a corner, hoping to find the aisle featuring Ryder Landry's head and Samantha's junk-and-flower sculpture of society, but I end up in the aisle of drawings and paintings…including mine.

I've been excited to see my storyboards on display, but now it's barely the third-most important thing on my mind.

Dad and Terri are right there. Standing together. Pointing at the artwork and talking. Looking nice. Looking friendly. Looking…right together.

And here I am, with a cup full of love potion!

Sure, it's meant for Sam, but Madison has an extra cup for that.

This is fate. This is meant to be. Isn't that what people always say about love?

I'm going to make this happen while I can.

I run up to them, making sure not to spill the punch. “Dad! You found Terri!”

“Actually, she found me,” he says.

“Cleo, your storyboard is great!” Terri says. That's nice to hear, especially from a professional in the graphic arts business, so I take a look. Pandaroo seems right at home on display in an art gallery (even one in a school gym), and usually I'd be much more proud and thrilled to see him and my other characters, but right now I've got to focus.

“Hey, I have some punch. Want some?” I ask them both.

They look at each other. Dad asks if Terri wants it. She says, “No, not right now.” So I hold it out to Dad. He shrugs and takes it.

I stare at him—probably a little like a weirdo—as he lifts the cup toward his lips.

Then he stops and nods toward my storyboard. “Cleo, how long did you work on this?” he asks. “You never even showed it to me.”

“A long time. I don't know. We can talk about it later,” I say impatiently, staring at the drink so passionately that if my eyes were lasers, they'd drill holes in the cup and the punch would spill all over him.
Drink, Dad! Drink, drink, drink!

“It's so fun and action-packed. I like it.” He raises his cup again. His mouth opens slightly…to speak more words. “Your classmates really worked hard too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm sure they all did.”
Who cares, Dad? Aren't you thirsty? Why are you boring Terri with all this talk of my artwork when the two of you could already be falling back in love?

“I really think you could have a career in this.” Dad gestures at my storyboard with the cup of punch. Why isn't he drinking it?

“I'm really proud of you,” he says…and finally,
finally
takes a sip. Yes!

He has an uncertain expression for a second but doesn't mention anything about the taste.

I know time doesn't really stand still, but it might as well. I'm not hearing the music anymore. I'm not worried about Lisa Lee and the spots on her suede. I'm not thinking about whether or not things are working out with Madison and Sam and Larry—well, not really. All I'm doing is shouting (inside my head, of course),
Say something, Dad! Say something to Terri right now!
But he's taking another long, leisurely sip of his punch.
Come on, Dad! A minute ago you were avoiding the punch with every comment you could think of. Now you love it?

Ten little words, Dad! Talk to Terri about anything! Life on Mars, the mess I made in the kitchen, whether or not her cat sheds in the summer. I don't care; just say something to her!

Finally Dad speaks. “Hey! I'm surprised we didn't see you already tonight. How are you doing?” In my head, I count the number of words Dad just said. It's more than ten. The only problem is that Dad was not looking at Terri when he said them. I turn my head in the direction he's facing.

It's Paige.

Samantha's mom. A third wheel on what should have been a bicycle. Looking perfect as always with her long, shiny black hair and tight-fitting skirt and blouse.

“Good to see you, Bradley,” Paige says, leaning in to kiss the air beside his cheek. Oh no! Sam's mom liked him once, and now if the love potion works, he's not only going to like her back, he's going to
love
her!

And it will be all my fault.