10 Finnegan's Parents

"Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. Elise is here. I was just showing her the house. We were about to get set up for our project," Finnegan greeted his parents. His mom brought her purse into the living room and sat it down on the couch, while his dad was pulling things out of his pocket and his ID badge off his shirt and placing them on the counter.

"Hello, Elise," his mom said. "Welcome to our home. I trust Finny is being a gentleman?"

"Mom!" Finnegan protested.

I smiled at her teasing him. "Oh," I tried not to laugh, "Yes, he just finished the tour before you came in. You have a very nice house."

"Oh, how sweet. Thank you. Make yourself at home."

"Yes, We'll be right out. We're just going to freshen up before we make dinner. But don't start making that salad dressing until we get back. I am always interested in new recipes." Finnegan's dad followed his wife down the hall into their bedroom.

"He he," Finnegan laughed nervously," my parents are so weird."

"What's weird about it? They seem nice," I said. "Oh, actually, I told my mom I would call her when I got here. Do you mind if I step out on the porch for a minute?"

"No, go ahead," Finnegan replied. "I can start getting the ingredients out."

"Ok, there's a green notebook in my backpack with the recipe and some notes I took today. I'll be right back." I took the notebook out for him and turned to the page he would need, then I pulled my cellphone out of the front pocket and walked through the living room and out onto the porch.

The porch was high up because the ground sloped . The basement underneath had a patio under where I was standing and the view from here was all forest. There was a large backyard between the house and the tree line that had a fire pit area, a large garden with a fence around it, and two sheds. One shed was probably used for lawn and garden tools, but the other one seemed nicer. It looked like a tiny house, actually. I didn't think about it very long. I dialed my mom's cell phone number and waited for her to answer.

She picked up on the second ring. "Hello! Elise!"

"Hey, Mom. There's no need to yell. I just wanted to tell you I just got to Finnegan's house a little while ago."

"Ok, are his parents there?"

"Yes, they said they were just about to make dinner, but Finnegan and I are going to do our project first." I thought it best not to mention that we arrived before his parents did, and that we were alone.

"Ok," my mom said, reluctantly. "Well, be home by 8:30. I have something I want to talk to you about."

Oh no. What could that mean?

"Ok. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's nothing to worry about. We'll just talk when you get home."

"Ok. Oh and I wanted to ask you something too. I'll bring it up later, just remind me. I love you."

"I love you too. See you later."

"Bye." When I hung up the phone, I looked out at the back yard again. That shed in the farthest corner by the tree line. There was something about it. It would be too dark later, so there wasn't a chance of Finnegan showing me around out there. But it nagged at the back of my mind. When I went back inside, Finnegan's parents were sitting at the kitchen table drinking something out of mugs.

"Hi, Elise. We're having some tea. Can I make you a cup?" I remembered what Finnegan said about not refusing.

"Uh, yes please," I replied.

"What kind of tea do you like?" she asked me.

"I don't really know. I've only ever had black tea, I guess." I looked at Finnegan for some help.

"Mom, why don't you pick for her," Finnegan suggested. To me, he said, "I got everything out on your list." He had set out everything in a line on the counter like little soldiers. Behind us, Finnegan's mom opened a cabinet that revealed many glass jars with various teas all labeled. She pulled out a few jars and sprinkled a pinch of this one and a pinch of that one into a stone mortar. She took a pestle and crushed the leaves a little. Laying the pestle on the counter top, she opened another cabinet that was filled with seasonings and added a dash of ground cinnamon to the mixture. As soon as she finished this process, the tea kettle let out a long, high whistle from the stove. She casually leaned over and turned the stove off with one hand while reaching into a drawer to pull out a pot holder with the other. She moved the tea pot back, then took a strange little strainer out of a drawer and set it into the mug. She poured the mixture she prepared into the strainer, then poured the hot water over it. She lifted and dipped the strainer a few times in the cup, and after a couple minutes, she took it out and set the strainer in the sink.

Handing the mug to me, she said, "Here you are, I hope you enjoy it." She smiled and I took the mug from her. It was too hot to sip, so I just held my nose in the steam and inhaled. It was kind of flowery, and familiar. If I had not seen her put the cinnamon in, I would have still guessed. It smelled warm, like Christmas.

"Mmm," I said, "thank you. I'll let it cool a bit, but it smells wonderful." My eyes had been closed while I was focused on the tea. When I opened them, I saw that everyone was looking at me and smiling. They all seemed curious, or somehow interested in my reaction to the tea. It kind of made me nervous to drink it. Noticing that I was suddenly feeling awkward, Finnegan stepped in. My hero!

"Ok, mom and dad, let's stop being weird," he gave them a look. "Elise, let's go ahead and get his project out of the way. I'll help, just let me know what to do."

"Right," I said, with fresh determination to get the project finished. "Ok, I forgot to ask, do you have a bowl, a whisk, a funnel, and three glass bottles or jars?"

As I listed the things off, Finnegan rummaged around the kitchen finding the items and setting them on the counter next to the ingredients. His mom and dad came to stand closer, and when Finnegan struggled to find something, his mom told him where to find it. Once we had everything we needed, I started to explain the project.

"Ok, so we know that vinegar," I said as I poured some vinegar into one of the small jars, "and oil don't mix together no matter how much you shake them up." I poured some oil into the jar and put the lid on to shake it around, demonstrating the point. "As I read in our Science book, this is a," I squinted my eyes to think of the exact term, "a heterogenous mixture. Vinegar is made up of polar molecules that are attracted to other polar molecules, so they stay together, and oil is made of non-polar molecules that are drawn to other non-polar molecules. So they don't blend."

"Finn, do you mind to take the lids off of the seasonings, please?"

"Sure," he said, and did as I asked.

"Ok, so now, before I make a homogenous mixture, I'm going to add the seasonings, just because. It has nothing to do with the science, it's just part of the recipe."

Finnegan finished removing the lids from the seasonings so I could just pour them without having to shake them through the plastic mesh. "I have garlic powder, onion powder, dried oregano, a little salt, and a little pepper." As I listed each ingredient, I poured a small amount into the bowl. "Now, I'll add the vinegar and oil as I did before...and we have our heterogenous mixture again, with a little more flavor. If we add a squirt of mustard to the mixture, it becomes homogenous, meaning it will blend together now because mustard is an emulsifier. The proteins and...," I had to look at my notes, "polysaccharides hold the molecules together." I squirted a little of the mustard into the bowl and whisked it around. I put the funnel over one of the jars and carefully poured it in. Once it had completely finished dripping, I laid the funnel in the bowl and held up the jars so they could all see the difference.

"Oh!" Finnegan's mom exclaimed and started clapping. Finnegan's dad followed her lead.

"That's pretty cool, Elise. How did you learn that?" Finnegan asked me.

"Honestly, from the Food Network. Alton Brown gets pretty science-y in his segments. Don't get me wrong, I still had to look a lot of it up, but I remembered hearing it there first."

"That's great. What's the other jar for?"

"I thought you could make the dressing too, and that way we could use one for dinner tonight and the other one we can keep as part of our project."

"Oh, good idea. So what do I do again?"

I switched places with Finnegan. "First, add the seasonings, then the oil and vinegar, then the mustard. Then you whisk it up and put it in the jar." Meanwhile, his mom and dad came over to inspect the dressing we had already finished. They each dipped their finger in it and gave it a little taste.

"Mmmm," they both said after smacking their tongues after tasting. "That's delicious."

"Thank you," I replied.

"I noticed that you didn't use any measurements when you mixed it together," Finnegan's dad pointed out.

"Oh, well it's really to taste anyway. Just a little of this and a little of that. Whatever feels right really," I explained.

"Hmm," Finnegan's parents both said at the same time.

They were quiet for a minute, so I decided to interject in the silence. "You can also use this dressing for more than salads. You can use it as a marinade for meat or veggies for the grill. You can just toss fresh veggies in it and serve them like that. You can toss it with pasta, or you can even just dip pieces of bread in it and eat it like that."

"Wow. That's great. Thank you very much, Elise, for letting us watch your science demonstration."

"Oh, you're welcome." Finnegan finished his dressing and cleaned up the counter. I was so engrossed in the conversation, I forgot about my tea until Finnegan handed the mug to me. "Thank you."

"Why don't you two go do something while we make dinner. I'll just put your jars for your project over here for now. You can take the mug with you, dear."

"Ok, Mom." Finnegan turned to me. "Do you want to work on some homework?"

"Yes, that sounds good." I told him.

We worked in the living room at the card table so it would be more comfortable for both of us to spread our books out. I finished the tea, which left a tingling feeling on my tongue. I brought my mug to the sink to rinse it out, but Finnegan's mom stopped me before I reached the sink.

"Wait!" she exclaimed. "Don't rinse it out. Did you drink it all?" She took the mug from me and examined it. After looking intensely at the inside of the cup, she asked me to look inside and tell her what I saw. Tilting the cup so I could see the leaves scattered along the bottom of the mug, Finnegan's mom watched me and waited for me to reply.

I looked, and the leaves were like clouds in the sky, resting in strange shapes. I wanted to say I didn't really see anything. I tried to see more than just leaves, like I used to try to see more than clouds in the sky. I tried to make the shapes make sense. Near the top of the cup, there was a small shape of a dragon, with it's long neck and tail, large wings and clawed feet.

"There's a dragon," I said.

She looked into the cup and said, "Where?" I pointed it out to her. "Ok. Is that all you see?"

I took the cup from her and turned it and tilted my head to see if any other shapes jumped out. "There. It sort of looks like a deer, but it's just the horns." I handed the cup back to her.

She looked in the cup once more, and didn't say anything. I was about to turn away and go back to where Finnegan was, but she looked up at me suddenly and said, "Be careful. You will have some kind of accident, or be involved in an accident in the future. There will also be a great and sudden change in your life." I stood stiffly, looking at her. Her face then melted into a smile. "I'll take care of this cup. You go and finish your homework. Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes." I walked back to my seat, feeling confused for a minute or two, but then I shook it off.

When dinner was ready, we went in and sat down. Finnegan's parents had made a simple salad of feta cheese, romaine lettuce, and Kalamata olives tossed in the fresh Greek dressing we had just made. They also prepared a chicken breast seasoned with the dressing as well, and some baked, simply seasoned potatoes. Finnegan's parents talked about other recipes through dinner. Finnegan's mom even promised to make some little cakes for me sometime.

As soon as we finished the meal, Finnegan got up to clear the plates.

"I'm going to go get my stuff together. I should be getting back home. Thank you for dinner. I really enjoyed it." When I finished packing up my stuff, I checked my phone to see the time. It was already 8:00.

I put my bag over one shoulder and walked back to the kitchen. "Hey, Finnegan, I'm supposed to be back by 8:30."

He turned to see the clock on the stove. "Ok, let me go get my keys and I'll drive you back."

While he was gone, Finnegan's dad started loading the dishwasher. Finnegan came back out with a hoodie on and his keys in his hand. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yep. Thanks, again," I said to his parents, as we started toward the door.

"Of course, anytime Elise. Be careful," his mom said to me meaningfully.

On the drive back to my house, Finnegan remembered he forgot to show me the other project. "If you want, you can come by some other time this week. I should have it done by then."

"Ok," I nodded. I didn't know if my mom would really let me, but I was hopeful. I just couldn't shake the weird felling I got from his mom's prophecy earlier. An accident? A great change? What did any of that mean?