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wander around spouting love poetry at the whole world.
    He just stood there.
    I was still sweating.
    Was it possible that the love philtre wasn’t going to work? Maybe it had been sitting for too long in the cabinet and had lost its power—like the potion I’d tried to use on Mel Melot.
    I told myself to calm down and wait.
    Tristan took a few more sips. “Thanks,” he said, and handed back the bottle.
    â€œYou don’t really like Sprite, do you?” I asked.
    â€œNot usually. I prefer cider or warm milk.”
    Warm milk? Well, that was different. Not many guys would admit to that.
    â€œAnd that drink tasted … odd. Perhaps it has gone bad?”
    â€œI’m sure it’s fine,” I said desperately. I couldn’t let Branna think there was something wrong with it. I still had to get her to drink it.
    â€œActually, you look like you just won the state champion-ship,” said Mark, nudging Tristan with his shoulder. “You look happy. So the drink can’t be that bad, right?”
    I looked more carefully at Tristan’s face. Mark was right. Tristan sort of glowed, actually—which is what you’re sup-posed to do when you’re in love.
    Good, good! I held out the Sprite to Branna. “Why don’t you have some, too?” I asked.
    â€œNo, thanks,” she said, staring at the bottle.
    â€œGo on. Tristan’s germs aren’t going to hurt you. You aren’t afraid of cooties, are you?” I teased her.
    â€œHe said it tasted off,” said Branna.
    â€œThere’s nothing wrong with it. It’s probably just because it’s so hot today. That can make things taste different. Heat.” I emphasized the word, hoping to use subliminal messages to get her to be thirsty. Mr. Andersson talked about them in psychology, but I’d never had a chance to use them before.
    Unfortunately, the messages worked just fine—on the wrong person.
    â€œI think I want some of that,” said Mark.
    â€œNo!” I froze. He reached for it, and I had a sudden image of Tristan and Mark together—but it was all wrong. Mark wasn’t and Tristan wasn’t—

Chapter 6
    I had to do something quick, so I stepped to the side and turned so that Mark couldn’t reach the bottle. Then I chugged down the rest of the love philtre.
    â€œHey, you could leave me a little,” said Mark.
    His words only made me drink faster, which caused me to belch loudly afterward. “Sorry,” I muttered. Then I thought about what I had done. I had drunk the love philtre. Was I in love with Tristan now? I didn’t feel any different.
    â€œHey, no problem,” said Mark. “My girlfriend belches with the best of us.” He hugged me; then he swooped in for a kiss.
    That was when I knew that Mom’s love philtre had worked, and it hadn’t needed any hair or anything else.
    Because Mark’s kiss felt sticky and wet and horrible. I couldn’t stand to feel the pressure of his lips on mine, and I pushed him away.
    â€œWhat is wrong with you, Izzie?” asked Mark, stepping back from me.
    â€œSorry,” I said again, leaning over to catch my breath. It felt like there was an airplane inside my head, taking off and landing over and over again. I was dizzy, and I couldn’t keep my balance.
    â€œMust have been that drink,” said Tristan. He hadn’t been affected the way I had. He seemed perfectly normal, but maybe he was faking it.
    â€œYeah, I guess. Maybe it really was bad. Do you want me to take you to the nurse, Izzie?” asked Mark. He was being so nice, but I did not want him to touch me.
    â€œNo,” I said sharply.
    â€œFine. Whatever,” said Mark. He did that sometimes, if I tried to mention I was having my period and felt sick. He did not want to know the details.
    The bell rang. “Just go to class,” I said to Mark. He didn’t argue with me but sauntered off.
    Branna