Potionate Love

by Patricia Mason

  POTIONATE LOVE

  Copyright 2012

  Patricia Mason writing as P.R. Mason

  Table of Contents

  Start Reading

  Dedication

  More from Patricia Mason

  Amazon Edition, Licensing Notes

  "There's only one way I'm going to get him," I whispered to my friend Gracella as the math teacher droned on. "A love potion."

  The object of my adoration, Ronny Tallsman, sat in his first row, corner seat, blissfully unaware of my feelings or the plot. From my position in the second row, on the opposite side of the classroom, I had a perfect view of his profile. A faint wave curled his chin-length blond hair. His eyes—which I knew were a shade of vivid azure—darted between the board and his note pad as he scribbled with his pencil. He frowned and bit his full bottom lip before scrubbing at the paper to erase a line of writing. Then he shook his head, sending the curls swaying.

  "You gotta take me to see your great aunt, the voodoo priestess," I continued to Gracella.

  "Root doctor, Tina." She shot the correction under her breath from the seat beside mine without her head turning. If I didn't know better, I'd believe she was concentrating on what Mrs. Blake was writing on the chalkboard.

  "Root doctor. Voodoo. Same thing."

  "Not really," she said.

  "But she can do a love potion, can't she?" I pleaded. "You told me she did one for your cousin and now your cousin's married."

  "Yes but...Oh, I wish I'd never told you that."

  "Constantina Dimas," the math teacher called on me.

  My attention snapped forward.

  "Here, Mrs. Blake." I thrust my hand in the air.

  "Can you answer the equation?" She tapped the stick of chalk against the board three times while glaring at me. She obviously knew I hadn't been listening to a word she'd been saying.

  I glanced at the foot-long problem and threw out the answer. "u/c = 9.352."

  "Correct," Mrs. Blake said between grinding teeth, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Thank you, Constantina."

  My being a math prodigy came in handy to cover for my lack of attention in class. My parents insisted that next year I enroll in Senior honors math. I had to take advantage of this year to coast. Only trouble was, my attitude irritated Mrs. Blake and she relentlessly tried to catch me out.

  "There's something unethical about this," Gracella whispered.

  "Ronny's not going out with anybody, so it's all right."

  "Why do you want to go out with him?" My friend Nathan asked from the chair behind mine. "He's a stupid jock. He plays football."

  "Yes but he also plays lacrosse," I hissed back.

  "So what?" Nathan argued.

  "That means he's cultured," I said.

  Nathan gave a disgusted huff. "This is dumb. You can't make someone want you with a love potion. I thought you were going to be a scientist. This is totally a contradiction to anything scientific or logical."

  "It fits perfectly." I spoke under my breath and over my shoulder. "I want Ronny to take me to the Spring Science Fair Fiesta Dance this Friday."

  "What does that have to do with anything?" Nathan's breath was hot on my ear.

  "That makes it science-related." I waved at my ear as if swatting a fly.

  "Constantina Dimas," the teacher demanded, making me cringe. She was really trying to get me today.

  Not hesitating, I answered,"10x minus 3."

  The teacher stared at me silently for a moment and then nodded before turning back to the board for more scribbling. "Does everyone else see how Ms. Dimas reached her solution?"

  "Besides," I continued to Nathan. "The Chinese part of me may be good at math and science, but the Greek part is superstitious."

  "What Greek part?" Nathan asked. "You're adopted. You're all Chinese."

  "Constantina Dimas," the teacher demanded. "Can you give us the answer to the next problem?"

  "Y equals x squared over 3x minus 2," I said almost immediately.

  Her mouth pursed so tightly I could count the twenty-three lines wringing her mouth. "Correct," she finally said.

  I raised my hand again and the teacher fixed her gaze on me before nodding to give me permission to speak again. "Yes? What is it?"

  "Mrs. Blake. I'm not calling myself Constantina anymore."

  "What?" She gaped at me.

  "Right." Nathan inserted himself into the conversation. "Now it's Istanbul, not Constantina."

  His comments produced a few snickers quickly quelled by the furious glare of Mrs. Blake. "Do you both realize this is a serious class?"

  "My point is serious, Mrs. Blake." I ignored an unrepentant Nathan chuckling behind me. "I want to be called Tina. Just Tina."

  "Just Tina doesn't have the same ring as Istanbul," Nathan inserted to the whole class. "Besides, calling yourself Just seems like you're bragging."

  This time the chuckles bounced loudly around the room until Mrs. Blake pounded the chalk to pulp on the board.

  "Students. Come to order," she yelled, clapping. She wiped both hands against each other trying to get rid of the white dust. "As to the comedy team of Nathan Whitefield and Constantina Dimas, both of you report to the principal's office immediately."

  Fantastic. I glanced at Gracella and grimaced. She shot me a sympathetic smile in return. Slipping from the seat I gathered up my textbook and other things to slink out of class in humiliation. Nathan, on the other hand, seemed to take a bow.

  The hall was silent and empty of everything except the aroma of dirty gym clothes. The classroom door had barely closed behind Nathan when I scream-whispered at him, "How could you get me thrown out of class? We'll probably get detention."

  "If you're serving detention, maybe you'll give up this stupid idea about going to a voodoo priestess."

  "Root doctor."

  "Same difference."

  "Aghhhhhh." I whirled on one heel and marched down the hall.

  Nathan followed on my heels, chuckling. "I'm sorry."

  I didn't answer.

  "What can I do to make it up to you?"

  My silence left his question hanging.

  "Okay," he said, as we rounded the corner to the administration offices. "No more jokes about Istanbul."

  My disgusted harrumph should have warned him not to continue.

  "But it's funny," he went on. "You know that song? It's Istanbul, not Constantinople."

  Stopping mid-hall I turned on him giving him my best evil eye. "Nobody but a nerd like you would know that old song."

  "I'll have you know there was an excellent cover version in 2006." When he continued he sang, "Been long time gone, Constantinople."

  "It's not funny. My name is the bane of my existence," I said.

  "Turkish delight, on moonlit night."

  I had to smile at that despite myself. "Why do I hang out with you?"

  "Because you're secretly in love with me and you want my hot bod?"

  "Right," I said with sarcasm. Not that Nathan was ugly or anything. In fact, he was kind of cute. But in that brown shirt, with his shaggy hair dyed green, he could pass for a palm tree. The glasses did spoil the tree effect somewhat. Besides, Nathan was smart and funny. When he wasn't teasing me about my name, I usually considered him my best friend, although I wouldn't have admitted that tidbit to Nathan.

  "I'm true to my love for Ronny," I added.

  "Ronny's never even spoken to you."

  "That's immaterial to the equation."

  "What equation?"

  "Me plus love potion plus Ronny equals date to the dance."

  With Nathan's laughter ringing in my ears, I opened the office door and went inside.

  * * * * *

  The tire of Gracella's 1987 Buick LaSabre hit a rut in
the dirt road, and my head hit the inside of the car roof.

  "Ow," I yelled. "What the heck was that? A landmine?"

  In the backseat Nathan shouted, "Doesn't this thing have any shocks?"

  "Quit bitching. I can barely see. It's so dark. And we're only out here so late because you two had to serve detention." Gracella clutched the wheel. In the dim glowing light of the dashboard speedometer, her knuckles appeared white despite her cocoa color.

  She was right about the darkness. With no street lamps and barely a sliver of a moon, the headlights of this old beater hardly made a dent in the inkiness of the night. The rotten egg smell told me this marshy area must have a lot of sulfur in the soil.

  "We're only here because Miss Istanbul wants a love potion," Nathan remarked.

  Gritting my teeth, I didn't answer him. If I stopped reacting to that nickname, maybe he'd drop it.

  "Good point," Gracella exclaimed.

  "Let's go back to Savannah," Nathan said.

  "No." I braced against the dashboard with one hand and the door with the other to keep from bouncing wildly again. The seatbelt could only do so much. "We're almost there."

  "Maybe," Gracella said. "It's been a while since I was out here."

  "Great. Now we're lost," Nathan whined.

  "We aren't lost," Gracella snapped. "At least I don't think so."

  Nathan unbuckled himself and leaned up between the front seats.

  "Are you crazy? You could fly through the windshield. Buckle yourself back in," I yelled.

  "Come on," Nathan said. "If we head back now we can make it to Buddy Burgers before they close. I'm buying."

  Gracella slammed on the brakes, and I threw out one arm like a railroad crossing gate to hold Nathan back.

  "There it is." Gracella pointed down an offshoot from the road.

  The house sitting alone in the midst of the woods was a small, square box. But even in the darkness, it seemed well kept. Whole conch shells marked the outline of the front yard.

  Gracella pulled down the driveway and parked. We tumbled out of the car, and my legs wobbled as if I'd been out to sea and tossed in a storm. As we walked toward the house, the path crunched under our steps and, glancing down, I observed a mixture of broken shells and dirt spread along the way. The porch light revealed yellow clapboards on the house, Haint blue on the porch ceiling and trim, and white pickets on the banister.

  "What's with the blue?" Nathan asked.

  "It's supposed to keep away evil spirits," Gracella answered.

  "Doesn't seem to be working. You're here," I teased Nathan as we reached the porch.

  "Yeah, Nathan. Could you please not be such a tool in front of my great aunt?" Gracella added. "She could put the bad mout curse on you, and turn you into a toad or something."

  "Ha," Nathan scoffed, although he did squirm a bit.

  Gracella knocked at the door and it swung open.

  The woman inside couldn't have been more than thirty-five. She wore a flowered caftan with a scarf tied around her hair, enhancing her ebony skin color.

  "Titi," she greeted Gracella and embraced her. "You is so tall dese days."

  "Aunt Vandi." Gracella smiled broadly as she pulled back. "Thank you for seeing us. These are my friends Tina and Nathan."

  "Aye ya." Aunt Vandi took my hand, speaking with her Gullah accent. "You da one what need the love potion joso."

  As I nodded, Nathan inserted, "No. She doesn't need any mumbo jumbo magic stuff."

  Aunt Vandi reeled around to examine him with narrowed eyes. "Mumbo what, bohbo?"

  Nathan blanched, obviously seeing his future life as a toad. With head lowered he mumbled, "Nothing...Ma'am. Sorry."

  After a few seconds Aunt Vandi cocked her head to the side. "A'ight I see you good bohbo what jes wanta p'otect your gal."

  Nathan mumbled something unintelligible.

  Aunt Vandi turned back to me and took my hand again, examining the palm. "Why you want this potion, zactly?"

  "I ummm. Want ummm..."

  "You nervous gal?" she asked. "If you not sure the joso not work."

  "I'm sure," I replied. "I want the love potion so this guy I like—Ronny Tallsman—will ask me to a dance."

  "Dis strong magic you play with." Her eyes locked with mine, and it seemed as if she was seeing straight down through me to the calluses on my soles. "You okay if he has love for you dat last long time?"

  Swallowing down a lump, I nodded.

  "A'ight," she said, twisting to pick up scissors from a table next to us.

  Before I could say anything, she snipped two of my fingernails. Then sweeping my shoulder length hair back, she took a lock from the nape and cut it off too.

  Coming out of my stunned shock, I glanced at my friends and saw them as surprised as me.

  "Hopefully, that won't show," I joked. "I'll never get Ronny to take me to the dance if I have a bald spot. Potion or no potion."

  Nathan scowled. "If you wanna go to the dance so bad, Istanbul, I guess I could force myself to take you."

  "Thanks," I said through clenched teeth, trying to tamp down the kernels of hurt his words caused. He had to force himself?

  "Yeah," he continued. "You clean up okay. You wouldn't be a total embarrassment."

  The kernel popped like Orville Redenbacher's in a microwave. "Wow, what a fantastic offer," I retorted. "But I wouldn't want you to lose your creds with the other geeks. I know you guys only date supermodels."

  "It's okay," he said with a smirk. "Any sacrifice for a friend."

  Reaching up, I gave a yank to a clump of his hair. "I wouldn't be seen on a date with anybody who had a messy mop like this."

  "Oww," he protested, rubbing his head. "Sheesh. Are you trying to give me a bald spot to match yours?"

  Aunt Vandi, peering down her long nose, contemplated Nathan and me for a few moments before making a tut tut clucking noise with her tongue.

  "I take these to make potion. Beeback." With that she swept through a beaded curtain and disappeared into the bowels of the house.

  About five minutes passed with Nathan harping at me and me sniping in response.

  "Honestly you two," Gracella said. "If you don't knock it off, I'll leave you here and you can get back to town through the gator-infested marsh."

  As she finished the last word, her aunt stepped back into the room. Aunt Vandi walked past Nathan, and he jumped, startled.

  "What is it, bohbo? You act like I may turn you into toad or sompin."

  "Hehe." Nathan tried to laugh.

  Aunt Vandi stopped in front of me and held up a capped vial. Inside was a brownish red powdery substance. "Dis potion. It make this Ronny guy take you to the dance and it bring you love. Dis what you want?"

  I nodded, and took the vial with trembling fingers.

  "Take care no one but your guy swallows dis mixture."

  "Swallows?"

  Nathan snickered. A genuine laugh this time.

  Duh, Tina. Somehow it hadn't occurred to me I was going to have to get Ronny to take the love potion.

  * * * * *

  Gracella held one side of the sign against the lip of the table as I held the other. Applying a piece of the tape, I affixed my side before standing back to take a look. The signed screamed in block letters: Lacrosse Team Fundraiser Bake Sale. Brownies $1.

  We'd set up in a corner of the cafeteria, and a few pre-lunch students milled around us, eyeing our progress. On the table, we had three-dozen brownies. Each had been wrapped in plastic and decorated with a slender ribbon bow. The ribbons were red and blue on the normal brownies. We'd decorated two special love potion-filled brownies with yellow ribbon and then hidden them safely inside a picnic basket.

  "Tell me again why we have two special brownies?" Gracella asked.

  "We have a spare, just in case something happens to one."

  "Like what?"

  "Like it falls to the ground."

  "This isn't going to work." Gracella shook her head and wrung her hands.<
br />
  "It will work," I said, arranging the brownies in precise spaces on the table. "Our target loves brownies. I've noticed him getting one every time they have them in the lunch line."

  "Why would we be fundraising for the lacrosse team? We aren't on the team, and we aren't on the insipid cheer squad."

  "So? Anybody can have school spirit," I defended. "It's common knowledge the school board cut funding for athletics and everything but football is suffering. Besides, we'll actually donate the money, so we aren't cheating anyone."

  "What if Ronny doesn't eat lunch inside today?" Gracella asked.

  "Shhhhh," I whispered. "Don't say his name. Just say target."

  "Okay, what if the target—"

  "He has to eat lunch inside. If he doesn't, we're walking the halls with the brownie until we find him. The dance is tonight. This is the last chance."

  Gracella frowned, and her lips formed a pout. "How do we sell these things?"

  Pushing past her with a huff, I swiped one of the trays from the table and put two brownies on it before thrusting the tray at her. "Just hold this out and say, 'Would you like to buy a brownie? Only a dollar to support the lacrosse team.' Can you remember that?"

  "Maybe I should write it down." She glared at me, hands on hips. "Of course, I can remember that."

  When the bell for lunch period rang, we were inundated with customers. We quickly got down to our last dozen brownies.

  "Crap," I said when we reached a lull. "I didn't think we'd sell this many. What if we run out of cover brownies before he shows up? Sell slower. Let's raise the price."

  Nodding, Gracella got out a sharpie and was drawing a line through the dollar price when Nathan sauntered up.

  "Poison Ronny yet?" he asked with a chuckle.

  "Shhhhh." Scanning the nearby students, I didn't see anyone who seemed to have heard him. I grabbed his arm. "I'm warning you, Nathan. Shut the frig up or else. Don't mess this up for me."

  "Okay, okay," he said, twisting out of my grip and throwing his arms up in surrender. "I'll be good."

  He walked over to the table. "Can I have one of these things?"

  "Oh all right," I said, waving in his direction.

  I began to worry. What if Ronny didn't show up? I'd discounted Gracella's comment earlier, but we were getting to the end of the lunch period and he still hadn't come in.