I popped the trunk, and Francis’s thin face went blank. “No way,” he said, his skinny arms raised. “I’m not getting in there.”

I felt the new bump on my forehead, waiting. “Get into the trunk or I’m going to teach you how I spell mink and make a pair of earmuffs out of you.” I watched him think that over, wondering if he would make a run for it. I almost wished he would. It’d feel good to tackle him again. It had nearly been two whole days. I’d get him into the trunk somehow.

“Run,” Jenks said, circling above his head with the vial. “Go on. Dare you, stink bag.”

Francis seemed to deflate. “Oh, you’d like that, eh, bug?” he said with a sneer. But he wedged himself into the tiny space. He even gave me no trouble when I duct-taped his hands in front of him. We both knew he could get out of the wraps given enough time. But his superior look faltered as I held my hand up and Jenks landed on it with the vial.

“You said you wouldn’t,” he stammered. “You said it would turn me into a mink!”

“I lied. Both times.”

The look Francis gave me was murderous. “I won’t forget this,” he said, his jaw clenching to make him look even more ridiculous than his boat shoes and wide-cuffed slacks. “I’m coming after you myself.”

“I hope you do.” I smiled, dumping the vial over his head. “Nighty night.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but his expression slackened as soon as the fragrant liquid hit him. I watched, fascinated, as he fell asleep amid the scent of bay leaf and lilac. Satisfied, I slammed the trunk shut and called it good.

Settling uneasily behind the wheel, I adjusted the seat and mirrors. I hadn’t ever driven a stick before, but if Francis could do it, I sure as heck could.

“Put it in first,” Jenks said, sitting on the rearview mirror and mimicking what I should do. “Then give it more gas than you think you need while you let up on the clutch.”

I gingerly pushed the stick back and started the car.

“Well?” Jenks said from the mirror. “We’re waiting.…”

I pushed the gas pedal and let up on the clutch. The car lurched backward, slamming into a tree. Panicking, I pulled my feet from the pedals, and the car stalled. I stared wide-eyed at Jenks as he laughed. “It’s in reverse, witch,” he said, darting out the window.

Through the rearview mirror, I watched him zip to the back and assess the damage. “How bad is it?” I asked as he came back.

“It’s okay,” he said, and I felt a wash of relief. “Give it a few months, and you won’t be able to see where it was hit,” he added. “The car’s busted, though. You broke a taillight.”

“Oh,” I said, realizing he’d been talking about the tree, not the car. My nerves were jittery as I jammed the stick forward, double-checked it, and started the car again. Another deep breath, and we lurched forward on our way.