Concoction

Alfred shook the bottle until the red drink turned blue. Julie brandished a juice box — pop. Miss Noble saw them from across the room — two strides and she was there, arms crossed, lips pursed.

“Give that to me,” she said.

They gave it to her — a one-litre plastic bottle full of blue fizz.

“What is this?”

“Concoction, Miss.”

“What concoction?”

“Eh,” Alfred looked at Julie, “Apple juice, green tea, Solo, Sprite, Gatorade…”

Miss Noble wrinkled her nose.

“Why would you mix them altogether?” She said, “Gross.”

She took the bottle to her office. They could get it after school, she told them — but after school she forgot all about it. They looked for her on the playground. No luck.

“You know where the staffroom is?” Albert whispered.

“We’re not allowed,” Julie said.

“Well, they won’t know.”

They snuck their way up the stairs and found the white corridor that led to the teacher’s rooms. Miss Noble’s office was a small, cramped studio next to the kitchen. They looked for the bottle.

“Bins,” said Julie. They looked — nothing.

“Up there?” They stood on their toes and searched the high cupboards full of folders. Nothing.

“Is that it?”

There was an empty bottle by the kitchen sink.

“She poured it out,” Julie groaned.

“I did what?”

They jumped. Miss Noble stood by the door with a one litre plastic bottle full of blue fizz.

“Miss!”

“Keep this out of my class next time,” she said, and gave it back to them.

“Thanks Miss,” said Julie. They turned to leave.

“Oh,” Miss Noble stopped them, “While you are here, be so kind as to fetch me a mug from the kitchen, and teabags — two kinds, peppermint and chamomile. Some milk from the fridge, too. I like milk with my tea, and syrup if we have it.”

Julie and Alfred looked at each other and laughed.

“What?” Miss Noble said.

“Why would you mix them altogether, Miss?” Alfred said, “Gross.”