Isabella Martini - POV
"Argh!" Etta let out a heavy sigh as she placed the glass on the table and looked at us. I know she is a witch, but I was desperately hoping that she did not know how to read body language because if she did, then I would be caught before I could even say pineapples. "How does your juice taste, ladies?" Etta asked.
Sophia glanced my way before we picked up our glasses and took a sip. Nothing tasted different except for the sweetness. "I think there isn't enough sugar in here?" Sophia said more like a question, when Etta nodded her head, got up from her place, and made her way to the countertop, where she grabbed the jar of sugar and placed it on the table.
"I have a sweet tooth, so this tasted blunt to me," Etta explained as she put two spoonfuls of sugar into her juice and mixed it while I felt like I got the life that left me a few seconds ago. She passed the jar to us, and we added some sugar as well.
