Page 2 of Minnie: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

I start to open the vial.

“Don’t,” Snow growls.

I sigh and put the vial back in my Birkin. For now. “Let’s go, Natty.”

“Can I come with you?” Snow asks innocently. I can’t tell if she actually wants to join us or if she’s trying to mess with me.

I rock back and forth. “No, you can’t come with us, Snow. You’d scare off all the customers.”

Snow’s toothy grin widens. “Scaring people. Tempting.” Yup, she is definitely messing with me.

I fight the temptation to get right down on the floor like the fuzzy and rock faster. “Stay here and don’t let anyone see you.”

Natty jumps up and down and claps. “Let’s play hide and seek!”

I groan. “No hide and seek! Snow, stay home. Natty, we’re leaving. Now!”

Natty resumes jumping on one foot and lighting up the dusty bakery floor. But hey, at least he doesn’t run off and hide. I take that as a win.

Snow growls. “I’ll just take a nice, long nap. As long as you bring me back something tasty.”

My shoulders relax and I nod. “Raw meat with a side of raw meat?”

Snow lets out a satisfied growl and rolls out of sight, her fur pristine since I use a spell to keep the upstairs floor pristine.

I stop rocking back and forth and take Natty’s hands in mine. “Snow is staying home, but you know who can come with us?” I lace my voice with excitement, which always works.

Natty’s eyes widen. “Who, Minnie? Who?”

“Tiptoe!”

He claps his hands and shouts, “Mousie!”

I shush him. Then I wiggle my nose. “Tiptoe, can you climb on Natty’s shoulder?”

The mouse scurries out of my Birkin, jumps onto the front of Natty’s firetruck t-shirt, and scrambles onto the giggling boy’s shoulder.

I gently scratch his whiskers. “Thanks, Tiptoe. You’re the best.”

“Any time.”

I reach into my Birkin and glance at the staircase to make sure Snow’s no longer there. Great, now I’m sneaking in my own home. I sigh. I have no reason to feel guilty for taking Formula M. I’ve been on it since my early teens. It’s a part of who I am. But it still feels wrong… even if it is necessary.

I take a deep breath and down the contents. The effect is immediate, and Formula M’s calming waves are a welcome relief. No more panic. No more worry. No more stress.

I drop the empty vial in my Birkin and kneel in front of Natty. “Time to go. And remember, we need to be careful and quiet. No one can know we’re squatting at the bakery.”

Natty misses the point entirely and focuses on the one unfamiliar word. “What’s squatting?”

I would grimace, but Formula M isn’t one for shows of panic or frustration. It only lets me look bored… and bored.

“Squatting is…” I think fast, since the boy’s likely to repeat whatever I say at the worst possible time. “A type of exercise. Watch.”

Luckily, working out is on the list of Formula M’s approved activities… so long as I don’t sweat. I manage to drop down into a wobbly squat, despite my four-inch heels, and Natty tries to copy me. Emphasis on tries. He bends his knees and tumbles backward, landing on his butt and nearly dislodging poor Tiptoe.

“I fell,” he shouts, bursting into laughter.

Tiptoe lets out a series of loud squeaks. “That was fun!”