Potionate Love

Copyright 2012

Patricia Mason writing as P.R. Mason

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"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?"