Margaret Brichant

Zoë’s Ice Cream Sensation

Zoë Nimo pulled back the red velvet chair in front of her and prepared
herself for the dreaded ritual family dinner. It wasn’t that she disliked her
family, on the contrary, she loved them all more than life itself. It was just
that, throughout her entire life she had always felt somehow inadequate, like
she didn’t quite measure up to the rest of them. So basically Zoë was, in a lot
of ways, your average every day thirteen year girl. And, likewise, her family,
an average every day American family. Just as with most thirteen old girls,
with two siblings and parents who seemed to excel in everything they
attempted, Zoë felt out of place. Like somehow she didn’t quite belong.
Unlike most families, however, the members of Zoë’s family were, believe it
or not, witches and wizards.
Zoë, whose plate had already been filled by her mother, busied herself
folding and refolding the napkin placed in front of her. Every so often, she
glanced up at her family members, who were busying themselves levitating
the gravy, salt and pepper, etc. amongst themselves. This was the awkward
part of the dinner, that constant reminder that alerted the world to just how
out of place she was in this particular family. You see, though her brother,
sister, mother, and father may have been witches and wizards, Zoë had yet
to show a single sign of possessing any magical powers whatsoever . She
may as well have been adopted. She began to wonder if maybe, just maybe,
she had been...
“You’ll never guess what I did in school today?” Her older sister, Aimee
shrieked from across the table.
Her father, clearly amused replied, “What dear?”
“Well,” she responded, with much enthusiasm, “You know how dueling
class is my absolute worst class ever?”
This time it was her mother’s turn to be amused. “Not really
sweetheart,” she teased, “I was under the impression that your performance

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in that class had been well above average. At least,” she paused for a
moment, “that’s what I’d heard from your teacher.”
This was what annoyed Zoë the most about her sister. Why did she
have to go around pretending that she was no good at something that she
very well knew she excelled at? It was irritating beyond belief, not to mention
unfair. And furthermore, why did her parent’s have to go along with it?
Couldn’t they tell how miserable she was? Didn’t they care?
“No,” she thought to herself, “that’s just the problem.”
“Okay okay,” Aimee continued, interrupting Zoë’s brooding, angst-
ridden thoughts. “So maybe I exaggerated just a little and my performance
in the class hasn’t exactly been terrible, but there’s no denying that it’s my
worst class.”
“Great,” Zoë thought. Not only did her sister have to call attention to
the fact that she was good at everything, but, on top of that, she had to point
out that her very worst class was anything but terrible.
“Well,” continued Aimee after a long pause - no doubt tactfully slipped
into the conversation for dramatic effect. “Today, for the first time, I
successfully completed a paralyzing spell! Oh it was the most amazing
feeling ever! I thought really really hard about paralyzing my opponent and
then, just like that, it happened! I couldn’t believe it when I saw it!”
“Oh daddy!” she cried, “It was just amazing! You should have seen it!”
Couldn’t she try for one minute, just one small minute, to contain a
little bit of this painfully overbearing enthusiasm oozing out of her pores? It
was nauseating. It wasn’t that Zoë wasn’t proud or happy for her older sister,
she truly was, it was just that she wanted, for once in her life, to have
something to say at the dinner table that would make her family proud of her
for a change. Was that really so much to ask? Apparently, the answer to that
question was yes, yes it was.
“Well what do you know?” Bellowed Zoë’s father, interrupting her
moment of self-pity, “I guess we’ve got ourselves a little dueler in the family
after all!”

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Zoë stared down at her plate of untouched food, trying to quell the
tears she could feel formulating in her eyes.
“That’s nothing!” Joined in Jay, Zoë’s younger brother, “Lets see you
try to perform a growth spell!”
“Whatever, you didn’t really do that,” Aimee replied, rolling her eyes at
their younger brother.
“Did too!” Retorted Jay, “I just thought really hard about being big and
powerful and then, before I knew it, I was eleven feet tall!”
“Well,” joined in Zoë’s mother, “I guess we don’t have to worry about
our children never amounting to anything.”
Through all this, Zoë remained silent.
Finally, after nearly all (but Zoë) had finished their dinner, the
conversation made its way over to Zoë.
“Now Zoë,” her father said, after clearing his throat so loudly the entire
table fell silent and looked directly at her. “You’re approaching your
fourteenth year now. Don’t you think it’s about time you show some sort of
magical talent? I mean come on, you’re the only member of the family who
has yet to successfully complete a spell.”
At this, the entire table fell uncomfortably silent. So silent that Zoë
could hear the loud thump of her heart inside her chest. She hoped they
couldn’t, that was the last thing she needed - to seem weak on top of
everything else.
“It’s a wonder,” continued her father, “how you’re even part of
this family at all. You come from a long line of talented witches and
wizards who have made their way into countless books and
newspapers.”
Zoë’s father paused for a minute before continuing. “How is it
that you have never once shown the slightest little inkling of being
magic at all?”

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Zoë’s mouth went so dry that she wouldn’t have been able to
answer her father’s question even if she could think of a response. She
just stared down at her plate, hopelessly blinking back the tears
pooling into her eyes.
“Well,” yelled her father, getting angry, “say something damn it!”
At this, Zoë was no longer blinking back tears, she was full out
sobbing. The shame of this display of weakness happening in front of
her entire family was too much for her to bear.
“Excuse me,” she whispered, in the biggest possible voice she
could manage.
As soon as the words had left her mouth, she hopped up from her
beautiful red velvet chair and ran out of the room in the direction of
her bedroom.

********

She swung the door to her bedroom open so powerfully, and slammed
it shut behind her so forcefully that she couldn’t help but feel some
sense of satisfaction at having caused a potential disruption to the
perfect family dinner taking place in the next room. Nonetheless, her
pain wasn’t eased. She threw herself down onto her bed, shoving her
face deep into her panda bear pillow so that her loud sobs couldn’t be
heard by her family members. Not that they’d care. She just didn’t
want them to think she was any weaker of a person than they already
did.
Somewhere amidst the overwhelming sobs pulsating through her
body, her cat, Dez, who had been curled up at the foot of her bed,
strode over to her and nuzzled his adorable black face into her hair.

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Zoë managed to put her sobs on hold long enough to take in the
situation of her kind-hearted, loving cat.
“Oh Dez,” she cried, “You’re the only person (because Zoë of
course considered her cat to be a person in every sense of the word) I
can talk to; the only person who actually bothers to listen.”
At this, Dez tilted his head to the left so as to fully comprehend
the severity of Zoë’s situation. Even though most people might be too
narrow-minded to consider it, Dez was particularly well aware for a cat.
It was as if his emotions were perfectly in tune with Zoë’s, connected
somehow.
“I’m just so tired of being part of this family,” continued Zoë as
she struggled to wipe the ever-flowing tears from her eyes. “I wish I
could belong to a normal family, since I clearly don’t belong in this one.
You have no idea how hard it is to grow up in this family of
accomplished witches and wizards while being the only member of the
family who has yet to show a single sign of having any trace of magic
in them.”
It was a wonder how Zoë was able to put this very long string of
words together considering her state. Dez looked concerned. He
nuzzled his head deeper into her hair and finally curled up beside her.
“Sometimes...” continued Zoë, “sometimes I wonder if I’m even
magic at all!”
Upon this very revealing confession, Zoë’s sobs took on a whole
new meaning. They became earth-shattering. Dez grew more and more
concerned by the minute. After some time of allowing her to cry out all
her frustrations, Dez leaped up from the bed and ran to her bedroom
door in the hopes that she might follow him.
“What is it Dez?” She asked, in a startlingly small voice.

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“Meow,” Dez said, as he tilted his head repeatedly towards the

door.
Zoë, upset though she was, couldn’t help but grow curious at the
strange behavior of her cat. It wasn’t like him to want to abandon her
while she was upset. Something must be up. She, with much effort,
lifted herself up off her bed and made her way towards the door to
open it and see what Dez was on about.
The minute the door opened, Dez darted out of the room,
periodically glancing behind him to make sure Zoë was following. She
was.
He ran straight through the dining room, through the family room,
and into the kitchen. Zoë was perplexed, her curiosity was definitely
peeking. Surely he wasn’t asking for food at a time like this. He was
normally so sensitive to her emotions. But, to Zoë’s relief, Dez wasn’t
hungry after all. He jumped up onto the kitchen table, knocking off a
rather large, colorful looking book. Zoë, attributing this act as an
accident, merely stood there, at the kitchen’s entrance. Dez just stared
down at the book and then back to Zoë. Did he want her to read it?
“Dez,” she muttered, exasperated, “you’re a very weird cat, you
know that?”
Nevertheless, she made herself over to the multi-colored book
that lay spread out on the linoleum floor. She bent down to pick it up,
wiping the tears from her eyes once again, and began to read. The
book read: Delicious Ice Cream Recipes That are Sure to Win Over the
Hearts of all who Try Them. What an odd thing for her cat to request.
“You really want ice cream at a time like this?” She asked,
growing slightly annoyed with her lovable friend. So, in exhaustive

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fury, she threw the book back on the table, hoping to convey just how
hurt she was at Dez’s lack of tact. He was normally so considerate.
If Zoë had hoped that this act of hurt rage would quell her cats
sudden need for ice cream, she had been sorely mistaken. Dez merely
looked at the book and meowed. Ceaselessly.
“Oh well,” she sighed, picking up the book. “At least the task
might help to take my mind off of things, for a little while at least.”
“Honestly Dez,” she continued, “I don’t know why you have a
sudden craving for ice cream from the most horrifically unappetizing
ice cream book that mom uses. I thought you normally hated this
stuff.”
Then again, Dez was an unusual cat. So, she got to work.

********

After what felt like hours, Zoë finally finished making a recipe
entitled “Pumpkin Pie Scream”. She knew it wouldn’t be any good and
would most likely taste of salt water, since those perpetual unwelcome
tears had seeped into her work throughout the entire process.
“All right Dez,” she finally said, struggling to get the words out of
her dry, swollen throat - she hadn’t uttered a word throughout the
entire procedure. “I sure hope you like Pumpkin, because that’s all
you’re going to get.”
She knew she was being ridiculous, Dez was only a cat after all. It
was just that she had grown so accustomed to his sensitivity. She
couldn’t help but feel disappointed by the one person she had ever
counted on to be there for her in her times of need. Despite this, she

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somehow found the energy to dish the likely inedible product into a
small dish for her suddenly inconsiderate cat.
“Here you go Dez,” she bellowed, “and you better eat every last
morsel of it.”
Dez, rather than slapping up the orange cream, ran out of the
kitchen towards the dining room.
“Great,” she thought to herself, “just as I suspected. Nothing I do
around here is ever appreciated.”
Before she could spend too much time wallowing in self-pity
however, her father entered the room, Dez behind him. “That little
twat,” she thought to herself. Why did he have to run and get Daddy?
Now he was, no doubt, going to insist on trying her disgusting
concoction. And that was really the last thing she needed. She really
couldn’t believe the inconsiderateness of her best friend right now.
“Someone’s been quite the busy bee,” chimed her father.
Zoë kept her eyes on her feet, embarrassed.
“Listen Zoë,” began her father, “I know I’ve been hard on you, I
really do. And maybe that isn’t entirely fair on my part. I just thought
that maybe, if we pushed you hard enough, we might be able to
squeeze some magic out of you after-all.”
Zoë remained silent. She was not going to be won over that
easily.
“I know it must be rough,” he continued, “always having to be
compared to your siblings. Your mother and I, and brother and sister
for that matter too, will always love you - regardless of whether or not
you develop powers.”
Still, Zoë remained silent.

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“I know it doesn’t always seem like it,” he continued, clearly on a

roll by this point, “but we’re all proud of you Zoë. You’re such an
incredible child and I’m truly sorry for making you feel otherwise.”
Still, Zoë remained silent.
“I just want you know,” continued her father after an
uncomfortably long pause, “that it’s okay with me if you aren’t
magical. It’s important that you know that.”
At this, Dez, who had clearly had enough of this conversation,
leaped up onto the counter Zoë had been working on and nudged his
furry head against the bowl of ice cream.
“I think someone wants some ice cream,” chuckled her father.
“Mind if I have some too?”
“I guess so,” managed Zoë, after all, things couldn’t really get
much worse for her. Maybe her father deserved a big bite of disgusting
ice cream as punishment for hurting her so much. That’d show him.
“Great,” he said, in what Zoë could tell was a forcefully cheerful
voice. Clearly he felt bad for how horribly he had treated her.
He dished himself a rather large bowl of ice cream, smiling all the
while. Zoë began to feel guilty for subjecting him to such cruel torture.
“You really don’t have to eat it,” she muttered, starting to feel
better towards her father and no longer wishing to cause him
treacherous discomfort. Not to mention give him another reason to feel
disappointment in her.
Zoë, however, was too late. No sooner had the words left her
mouth when the spoon her father was holding had made itself into his
mouth.
Zoë stood silent, allowing the freshly forming shame to wash over
her. She glanced up at her father who seemed to be considering

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something for a moment. All of a sudden, to Zoë’s utter astonishment,

her father began shaking with loud bursts of laughter.
“Zoë,” he rejoiced, “this is the most amazing ice cream I’ve ever
tasted!” he finished, practically singing the words.
Zoë, utterly bewildered, began to think that maybe her father
was just teasing her.
“Not funny,” she pouted down at the ground.
“Not funny?” he asked, “Why everything in the world is funny
right now. Everything. I could skip I’m so happy!”
Before Zoë had a chance to respond, her father had bolted out of
the door, skipping no less.
“Everybody come quick,” she heard her father belt from the next
room, “Zoë’s made the world’s absolute most amazing ice cream ever.
Everyone needs to have some.”
Before she knew it, the entire family was traipsing through the
kitchen door, all eager to try Zoë’s supposed earth-shattering ice
cream.
“Is it true?” Jay asked, sarcasm flooding every word. “Dad seems
to think you made the world’s most incredible ice cream. Yeah right,”
he continued, laughing, “I’ll believe that when I taste it.”
“Puhhhleaze,” joined in her sister, barely containing her
amusement.
“No no I’m not kidding you guys,” interrupted her father, “the
minute you taste this stuff, you’ll all be eating your words. You’ll see.”
“Great,” thought Zoë, did her father really have to make such a
spectacle of the situation. Now she was sure to be ridiculed even
further.

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Before she could stop him however, her father had already dished
three large bowls of ice cream, somehow moving at an inhuman speed.
Well, he was a wizard after all. And this, was exactly what Zoë chalked
up his unusual behavior to. She could never, for an instant, entertain
the idea that it was her ice cream concoction that was affecting his
behavior and apparent boisterous mood to.
One by one, to the mortification of Zoë, her family members
dished a spoonful of ice cream into their mouths. It was this that finally
caused Zoë to pause. No sooner had the ice cream touched her family
members’ lips, did they began laughing and singing in unison.
“What is going on?” She wondered to herself, surely this was
their idea of a practical joke.
“Why Zoë!” They all yelled in unison, “this is amazing!” They
shrieked, with more surprise than was really necessary. “I’ve never felt
so thrilled in all my life.”
Zoë began to grow angry, she really was on her last nerve. “Very
funny you guys, you had your fun; now please, please leave me alone.”
“We’re not joking,” they rejoiced, “you really must try some!”
Before she could even think of a response to retaliate with, her
sister had shoved a mouthful between her open lips. Just as with the
rest of the family, the minute the frozen orange cream touched her
lips, Zoë began rumbling with laughter. It was as if all the worries she
had ever felt had become completely meaningless. Nothing mattered,
other than that she felt amazing. She felt like singing, skipping, and
dancing and only wished she could manage to do all three at the same
time. She tried anyway, feeling absolutely no embarrassment when
she fell on the floor; she merely started, along with the rest of the
family, laughing all the harder.

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“An ice cream that makes you happy,” chanted her father
proudly, “Now that’s what I call magic.”
“It really is,” echoed the rest of her family, “here’s to Zoë’s ice
cream sensation,” they chorused, toasting together their giant,
heaping bowls of “Pumpkin Pie Scream.”

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