Just Add Magic (18 page)

Oh, holy guacamole.
Here it was, a burst of maternal emotion.

“It was just so nice spending extra time with you,” she said.

“It was fun for me too,” I said. Hannah and Darbie had already disappeared into Sam's. “Maybe we could talk about this tonight, Mom.”

She wiped her eyes. “Yes. Sure, of course we can. You go have some fun with the girls and celebrate making the team and your big victory. Don't worry about the contest, it's not important.”

“Okay, but Mom, it was really fun.”

The chili contest had always been the most exciting thing in our lives for the month of September, but this year I had been so busy with the Book that I sort of blew it off.

Because of the Book.

“Congratulations! Looks like you all made the team,” Sam said. “I got a new flavor in today—German chocolate. And it's on me, so you can celebrate the new ANtS girls' soccer team.”

“And we won our first game!” Hannah said.

“Terrific. That calls for free whipped cream, too.”

Smirking, I whispered, “And that's not all.”

The girls looked at me, confused.

We took our bowls to a table. I couldn't get my grin to relax.

“What's up with you?” Hannah asked. “I thought you'd be furious about Mrs. Silvers not being potioned, and the Book not being real.”

“And about having to rake Charlotte's yard,” Darbie said.

“I'm not thrilled about the raking gig. And for the record, the next time you want to open your big
boca
and make a bet for me, check with me first. Whatdoyasay, Darb?”

Her head bobbed.

“And I'm still thinking about the Silvers thing. That's an anomaly, as you scientific types say about data that doesn't make sense. But you're
never
going to believe what happened to me when I was packing up the minivan.” I paused to make sure I had their complete attention. “You see, Hannah, you're wrong about the Book.”

I explained the arm brush, hand linger, shock, whisper, wink, and smile.

“Tony?” Hannah asked.

“Tony,” I confirmed. “And I've seen him hanging around at our practices and maybe at the game.”

“Lurking?” Darbie joked.

“Sort of, I guess, but not in a creepy way.”

“OMG! He likes you!” Darbie said.

“Tony? No way,” Hannah said. “Maybe a chunk of his bangs fell into his eyes, making it look like he winked.”

Darbie asked, “Why wouldn't Tony have a crush on Kelly? Besides being probably the coolest and most-liked girl in seventh grade, she's also one of the prettiest.”

Was she talking about
me
?

Hannah said, “Of course she is, but this is Tony Rusamano we're talking about. He doesn't know what the word ‘girl' means.”

Darbie took a big spoonful of the German chocolate ice cream.

“That's exactly my point,” I said. “There's no way he likes me ordinarily, which is what makes this so major. Remember when we brought Frankie the Love Bug Juice?”

They nodded.

“Tony drank some too. Remember? Before his graceful display of armpit farts?”

“Oh yeah, he did,” Darbie said. “He makes some impressive sounds with that pit.”

Sam yelled over, “How do you like the German chocolate?”

Only Darbie had even tasted it. Hannah and I stopped chattering and dipped our spoons into our ice cream. “Mmmm,” I said.

“Best chocolate I've ever had,” Hannah said. “The Germans know what they're talking about.”

“Good. Good. Good.” Sam wiped the glass at the counter where he kept his postcard collection. I walked over to grab some napkins and caught a glimpse of the picture on one
of the postcards. I had seen it before. It was the beach from Señora Perez's photo.

I sat back down and Darbie said, “It's really good, but chocolate is chocolate to me.”

“No way,” Hannah said. “All chocolate is not created equal.”

“Wait,” I said. I stared into the distance as my brain cranked at warp speed.

“Brain freeze?” Darbie asked.

“No.” I looked at Hannah. “What did you just say?”

“I said that all chocolate is not created equal.”

“That's IT!” I yelled, and slammed my fist onto the table. “Hannah, you're a GENIUS!”

“I am?” she asked.

“She is?” Darbie asked.

“You have solved the puzzle of the Book!”

“What did I say?” she asked.

“All chocolate
isn't
the same. Neither is vanilla bean, or ginseng, or mint,” I said. “Mexican mint is different.”

“So?”

“That's why the Fresh Citrus Squeeze didn't work for Mrs. Silvers. I used mint from my house, from the supermarket. The recipe in the Book called for Mexican mint. You were completely right about Mrs. Silvers's operation. It was planned. It had nothing to do with me.”

“I'm glad to see you've finally come to your senses,”
Hannah said. “This is what I've been trying to convince you of for days.”

“I didn't cause any strife because I didn't use the right ingredients. In the Keep 'Em Quiet Cobbler, the Hexberry Pie, and the Love Bug Juice we used the right ingredients—
special
ingredients.”

Hannah blew her bangs out of her face and asked, “And now is this when you're going to tell us how they're special?”

I ignored her sarcasm. “All the other ingredients were from La Cocina. They were from
Isla de Cedros
.”

“
Isla de
what?” Darbie asked.

I walked over to the counter. I pointed to the postcard through the glass. “Sam, may I borrow this for a second?”

“Sure, Kelly. Just be sure to give it back. My friend Ida Perez sent it to me last time she visited her home. I really like that picture,” he said.

“Her home?”

“Yes, she's from an island near Mexico called—”

“
Isla de Cedros
?” I finished his thought.

He asked, “How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess.” I gently slid the postcard out from under the glass. I turned it over and read the back.

Her signature was big, wavy, and flowy. The
I
in “Ida” was huge, followed by a huge
P
in “Perez.”

“What's that?” Hannah asked as I walked back over to her and Darbie.

I showed them the picture. “This is
Isla de Cedros.
It's a Mexican island in the Pacific Ocean. It used to get attacked by pirates until the farmers and the shaman worked together to grow spices with protective powers to guard their families and villages. They also grew spices to pack with their treasures. The next time the pirates attacked, their ships sank and they all drowned.”

Darbie said, “Now, that's one heck of a hex.”

“You ain't kidding,” I said.

Hannah said, “And you think vetivert, rue, and ginseng were all from this island, and that they somehow found their way to our cooking club in the small, East Coast town of Wilmington, Delaware. Kind of unlikely, donchathink?”

“Not if someone in Wilmington is from
Isla de Cedros
,” I said.

They didn't know who I was talking about.

“And if this someone wrote a Secret Recipe Book,” I added.

They were still confused.

I took a napkin, snatched a pen off the counter, and doodled “IP.”

Darbie asked, “It all comes back to
ip
?”

I said, “It's not
ip
. It's an
I
and a
P
. They're initials.” I turned the postcard over and showed them the signature line. ‘IP' is Ida Perez. Señora Perez is from
Isla de Cedros
. She knows that the herbs grown on the western coast of the island are special. She sells them at La Cocina. The spices we bought from her have special powers.”

Darbie said, “It's the ingredients that make the recipes into potions.”

I nodded. “Exactly.”

Darbie said, “The
ip
in the Book is Ida Perez.”

Hannah didn't nod, but she didn't blow her bangs out of her face either. “It's Señora Perez's book,” she said.

I nodded again. “Right.”

“We need to go see that Señora,” Darbie said.

You'll need:

3 BFFs

1 secretive Señora

1 island off the coast of Mexico

1 bunch of pirates

1 shaman

Directions:
Take it behind a curtain of beads, smoosh it all together
inside a mesh tea ball, and dunk it in mugs of steaming hot water.

It didn't take long for us to walk to La Cocina. Señora Perez held open the string of beads. “Come back for tea,
chicas
.” Somehow she knew we were not there to shop.

We followed her to the world behind the sheet of beads. The room didn't look anything like I'd imagined. I had expected heavy burgundy curtains, crystal balls, Victorian chairs with high backs, and other mysterious fortune-teller stuff.

Instead, the floor was linoleum, lifted up and torn in several spots. There was one piece of furniture—an old metal kitchen table with matching folding chairs. There was a small counter space with a hot plate, some silver canisters, and a vase filled with utensils. On the wall, a mesh metal tea ball hung from a hook. A small shelf above the counter held a few cracked tea cups, chipped plates, mismatched bowls, and a kettle. There was no crystal ball to be found . . . not even a honeydew melon.

Señora Perez motioned for us to sit and filled the kettle with water from an oversize utility sink. She set the kettle on the hot plate and sat herself in the fourth chair. I looked at her closely—the pineapple bun on top of her head, the multiple scarves around her neck, her pointy nose that resembled a bird's beak. She didn't frighten me anymore. “You have questions,” she began.

“Si,”
I said.

“I wondered when you would come in with them.”

Darbie leaned forward, her elbows and forearms on the table as though she was taking charge of the conversation. “We think we found something that belongs to you.” Darbie said, like she was a TV detective mounting an investigation.

“My book,” Señora Perez said.

Darbie seemed too surprised by this admission to continue
her line of questioning. So, Hannah picked it up. “You know about the Book?”

“
Si
. It's mine.”

“Why didn't you say something?” Darbie asked.

“I was not certain until just now, but I had my suspicions the first day you came in.”

“What did you suspect?” I asked in a tone more polite than Darbie's.

“I thought you were up to something, but I did not know what.”

Darbie jumped in. “What made you think we were up to something? At that point we were totally normal customers.”

“The ingredients you chose weren't the ones my normal customers buy,” Señora Perez answered evenly, implying that she did in fact have customers, and that she thought they were normal. “But I sell them to you, and I tell you:
Quien siembra vientos recoge temtestades,
in case you are up to what I thought you were up to.”

Darbie looked puzzled and paused, as if she was waiting for Señora Perez to continue her confession.

Señora Perez filled the quiet. “Then Kelly came in with a boy and bought shade-grown ginseng. Still, I wasn't sure you had the Book. Anyone can buy shade-grown ginseng, but no one ever does. The bottle for regular ginseng is right in the front and it is much prettier. People buy that one all the time. It's one of my most popular items. Everyone uses ginseng
to make homemade love potions.” She turned to look at me. “But you knew about the shade-grown ginseng. So I warned you again. But did you listen?”

She pointed to Darbie's legs. “You grow more bruises every day. I see,” she said, pointing to her eyes. “I see your bee stings, too,” she added, looking at Hannah. “And I know what Kelly has to do for the girl she does not like.”

Through gritted teeth I said, “Carry her books.”

“But you deserve that for what you did to her,
no
?”

I shrugged.

The kettle screeched. Señora Perez leaned into the metal table, got up, and turned off the hot plate. She brought over four mugs, a canister of loose tea, and a mesh tea ball.

Hannah asked, “How did you see Kelly carrying Charlotte's books?”

She stuffed the tea ball with leaves. “Does it surprise you that I go outside? I go around the neighborhood. Sometimes I chat with the neighborhood ladies.”

Our eyebrows lifted a notch. “Really?” Darbie asked.

“Really,” she said. “And I go to the store and the movies, and sometimes I make deliveries for special customers. Just yesterday, a lady who had an operation needed sea salt to soak her wound. Well, I have special sea salt from the Pacific Ocean. It is very good for healing. I brought it to her house.”

I wondered if she was talking about Mrs. Silvers.

“I even went to your school to help organize in the library.”
She brought the kettle over and filled our mugs. She dangled the tea ball in Hannah's cup. The steamy water turned brown.

Darbie was determined to keep Señora Perez on the subject. “Why didn't you tell us about the Book the next time we saw you?”

“That was when you came in asking about the Law of Returns. You did not tell me where you learned about it. If you had said it was on a piece of paper in a book that looked like an encyclopedia, I would have known. But the idea of the Returns has been around for centuries among witches and even scientists.”

Hannah asked, “You're saying that scientists believe in the Law of Returns?”