Healing Hands (The Queen of the Night series Book 2) by Laura Emmons

cruet into the cup and made Rose, Corey, and I drink it.
    I mumbled, “What’s a dead and living ford?”
    Corey answered me. “I know, ‘cause I’m the one who gathered the water!”  He seemed really proud of this and I became instantly suspicious.
    “What did you do?” I whispered.
    He grinned. “Ken hung me by this harness over the place where the Cacapon and Potomac rivers meet, over near where they buried Mom, and I scooped up the water into a jug. Then they hoisted me up.”
    “Was it dangerous?” I asked tentatively.
    “Oh yeah,” he grinned hugely.
    “How much cider did Mike give you?”
    “They didn’t give me cider. We drank straight from the bottle.”
    “Oh my heavens…does Rose know they let you go drinking?”
    “Yup. She said ‘never again’.”
    “Thank goodness for that. Hey is this water safe to drink?”
    “Duncan boiled it, so probably.”
    We returned our attention to the Crone.
    She shouted, even louder, “Now open all the windows and greet the fresh air of the New Year with confidence!” 
    We did as we were told and ran around the house opening all the windows. The smoke dissipated and the freezing 6 AM air replaced it. Then the Crone called us all into the kitchen. She’d poured a shot glass of scotch for each of us.
    I made a face.
    Evan warned me, “You have to drink it or you’ll have bad luck.”
    Evelyn toasted us all by saying, “Slainte mhath!”  She downed the shot in one.
    “Huh?” I said to Evan. He repeated, “SLAN-jay vah, it means good health.”
    “If you say so,” I grumbled.
     

 
    Chapter Twelve
    New Kids in School
    I sat outside the guidance counselor’s office, alone and stressed. Rose had taken Corey to settle into his new school. For me, things weren’t going well. None of my classes from Samohi lined up with the offerings here. At the first bell, I’d walked into what should have been AP Physics but turned out to be Biology 1. Clearly lost, I’d headed to the guidance office. Nothing on the little printout the school secretary gave me made sense. There was no mention of a choir or music period and no Latin class on my schedule.
    I decided to go to medical school when I was Corey’s age and had thought about being a doctor even before that, so my academic path through high school had been mapped out in the ninth grade so I would easily get accepted into a UC pre-med program, preferably at UCLA. Now the plan had shattered.
    The door opened and a decidedly terrified kid in glasses and a huge parka stumbled out, carrying his backpack and a slew of loose papers in his arms. A nice, if slightly frazzled, lady, wearing her hair in a bun and a slim skirt with a cardigan sweater, called my name. I grabbed my class schedule printout and my backpack, and entered her office.
    “It’s Maggie, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Call me Mrs. Donnelly. I had the pleasure of speaking to your mother over the phone about a month ago. I am so sorry to hear about her passing. How are you doing, dear?”
    “As well as I can, I suppose. It’s been hectic moving to a new home, and the funeral, and now this…” my words trailed off as I held out my printout in a gesture of despair.
    She smiled sympathetically and looked down at a file folder on her desk containing my transcripts from Samohi.
    “I’m afraid the first thing you’ll have to accept is we’re a small county in a rural community. We don’t have the same programs you had at Santa Monica High School. You are going to have to make a few decisions regarding your class options. Since we’re in the middle of a school year, it’s going to be difficult, but I want you to know, we will do everything we can to keep you on the path toward medical school. I must say, your academic record is very impressive.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Donnelly.”
    ***
    By the time I’d finished straightening things out with the guidance counselor, it was lunch period. I only had two classes left in my day