Fallon’s mouth ran dry. “You don’t mean me.”
“You were the one,” he said with a rush of emotion. “Orientation established your reputation. It was just as widespread as my own. Fallon Dupree would never be interested in someone like me. That was a comfort. When I found out that we were involved in the rebellion together, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get to know you.”
“So you were secretly happy that I kept rejecting you,” she said, scarcely able to believe it.
“I tried being obnoxious,” he said, counting off with his fingers, “and reminded you as often as I could how rotten and callous I was. But I never considered how badly I wanted to be with you.”
Fallon recognized that tug-of-war now that she understood where it came from. All those times he grew panicky and distant were moments when he’d almost forgotten Zita’s fortune. She didn’t agree with how he’d handled dating, but she understood now. And no matter his actions, she couldn’t begrudge him for trying to change, or at least bend, such a horrible fate.
Sebastian couldn’t belong to her. He was destined to die after finding his true love. She would become a spinster. Tonight shouldn’t have happened: her torn nightgown, the frost on her feet, the almost kiss in the courtyard. The rebellion had already worked miracles, but the ending remained to be seen.
“I’m scared to give you my heart,” Sebastian said nervously. Hanging on to his quilt, he left the couch and stared at the bookshelves.
Fallon thought of several responses to that, but none of them matched the severity of what he had just confessed. She pushed back the tray, sloshing more tea, and tiptoed behind him. His back was narrow and tense. She walked around so that she stood in front of him. “I know,” she said, “but I’ll take good care of it.”
“Like ironing your uniform or vacuuming your apartment?” he teased.
Fallon frowned. “Exactly.”
“I believe you,” he whispered.
The heater sputtered and clicked. They stayed awake until morning, drinking the rest of the spicy tea and listening to the villa’s silence.
* * *
Fallon and Sebastian left the Spinster Villas without breakfast. The washer and dryer back at the apartment could get rid of the mothball scent, but she’d need to toss in everything she’d brought, including the duffel bag. This Sunday felt like any other November day, except that Fallon battled a new heaviness that made the rebellion’s goal so much more critical for her. Zita’s fortune had sentenced Sebastian to death. That wasn’t something she could easily forget, no matter how satisfying it had felt to know what he thought of her and to hear his secrets.
On the way back, Fallon made sure Sebastian walked on the inside of the sidewalk. She held his hand when they crossed traffic. She grabbed his coat sleeve when a bicycle whizzed by, close enough to clip them.
Sebastian smirked and whispered in her ear, “That’s enough.”
Fallon’s cheeks burned. “You’re the one who cried last night about dying.”
“Protecting me from the dangers of Grimbaud’s traffic is a kind sentiment,” he said, “but if I remember correctly, you’re the one who fell in a puddle, princess.”
“Maybe you should lock yourself in a tower until this is all over,” she snapped.
“I could die anywhere,” he said thoughtfully. “Imagine how gruesome a tower death would be.”
She didn’t want to.
They stopped at a fruit stand. Sebastian bought a grapefruit and asked her if she wanted anything.
“Do you actually eat fruit or are you just trying to cheer me up?” Fallon asked.
“I’m disappointed that you think I eat grease for breakfast,” he said, his mouth curling into a smile. He said that his grandmother ate nothing but grapefruit in the mornings; like recording pockets of silence, he found starting his day the same way comforting. “You know, Grandma Marion helped push me to find you,” he said.
“How do you mean?”
He tossed the grapefruit in his hands as they walked. “I never told my grandmother about my fortunes. After I broke up with you,” he grimaced at the phrase, “I sulked long enough to realize that she’d be able to pull me out of it. At first, it was so hard to start. I didn’t know how to tell her, so I just read the fortunes into the phone and waited.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing, for a long time,” Sebastian said. “I knew she was listening, though. That’s just her way.”
Fallon wished she could have been there for that conversation. She was curious about his grandmother. She also wondered what it would feel like to truly confide in someone—she did that with her friends, but family was different. Lying to them hadn’t been as hard as she’d thought it would be.
He had told his grandmother everything he could, talking until his voice grew hoarse. By the time he returned to the phone with a glass of water, his grandmother was ready to impart her wisdom. “She called me an idiot,” he said, “and told me to stop wasting my time and yours by moping.”
Fallon laughed at that.
Sebastian ran his fingers over the grapefruit’s bumpy skin. “Before she hung up, she told me that she needed to see me directly. Grandma’s usually calm, but I could hear her agitation through the phone. She says that she knows something about Zita. It’s not safe for me to hear about it in Grimbaud, though.”
Her pulse quickened. “When are you leaving?”
“I want you to come with me.”
Her rational brain kicked in. “It’s November, Sebastian. We have exams in a few weeks. I have a paper that needs to be written by next Thursday.”
“I could be dead before then,” he said carelessly.
“Or you could live and fail all your classes! Need I remind you that being left back a year is bad?”
“I could stay behind a year. We could graduate together.”
“That’s unromantic.”
Sebastian almost dropped his grapefruit, laughing. “Okay. So. What’s the plan?”
“Whatever she has to say must wait until we’re done with our exams,” Fallon said firmly. They didn’t know what kind of lead his grandmother had, but Glastonberry was half a day’s bus ride away. They’d be cutting it close trying to squeeze that trip into a weekend. “I’ll tell my parents that I’m staying at school for winter break.”
“Good plan. We can see my grandmother for a day or two and not miss class.” He sighed. “Final exams, huh? It seems pointless to think about real life again.”
“I find test taking relaxing,” she said.
“I’m not surprised. You probably study.”
chapter 19
TINS
When Ms. Ward asked Fallon to stay after school on Monday, she wasn’t surprised by the request. The library grew busier this time of year. Procrastinating students hunkered down in study groups. The card catalog was in full use, though usually messed up by students shoving cards back in the wrong drawers. During the month of November, the school library’s hours extended until dinnertime. When Fallon arrived after the last bell, the library was as noisy as the cafeteria.
“Form a neat, orderly line,” Ms. Ward yelled from the circulation desk.
Fallon set to work on reshelving the encyclopedias someone had left on the floor. She saw a few familiar faces from her classes. The most entertaining students to observe were the study group leaders: they conducted the sessions like maestros, hands flapping, guiding the fold. Thankfully, couples kept their hands to themselves; they were no match for the majority of students roaming the stacks, not for stolen kisses, but for secondary sources.
Ten minutes later, Bram De Groote entered the library with a guest pass clipped to his suit. He looked like he came straight from the accounting office. His eyes narrowed when he saw Fallon, but she stared right back. What was he doing there?
Ms. Ward wore a polite smile when he approached the desk. “Excuse me, who are you?” she asked.
Bram flinched as if slapped. “You
asked me to come here,” he growled.
“Oh, of course. You must be Mr. De Groote. Just a moment.” She finished stamping three books and called Fallon over. “Mr. De Groote and I are going to have a chat in my office. Please take care of things until I return.”
Fallon’s mouth dropped open. “O-Okay.”
She wanted to follow and listen in, but the library transformed into a turbulent sea. Fallon quickly took over the circulation desk and faced the snaking line of students waiting to check out. The ink dried out on the green pad, so she switched to blue. By the time she had finished, some study groups had left. The tables were covered with eraser marks and candy wrappers. Fallon tucked her hair behind her ears and grabbed the cleaning spray from under the desk.
She worked on every empty table. The paper towels turned gray with grime and dust. The headphones boy occupied his usual table against the window. Since she didn’t eat cafeteria food, she’d never been able to pick out which lunch lady his mother was. Or why he wasn’t in middle school with other kids his age. Maybe he was homeschooled.
“I need to clean here,” she said, smiling. “I hope you don’t mind.”
The boy shrugged and bopped his head to the music.
Fallon wiped the table to the beat of the tango blasting from the headphones. As she worked, she caught sight again of the key hanging from his neck. The key blade was cracked up the middle. “What door can that possibly open?” she asked before thinking.
“Home,” he said, in an almost pained whisper.
“You should see a locksmith,” Fallon said, wishing she could say something less obvious.
“My mistake,” the boy said, tapping a finger on the fissure, “but I’ll find a way back in. Isn’t that your friend?”
He spoke so gravely that his question caught her by surprise. Fallon pushed in the chairs on the other side of the table so she could get to the window. Outside, students lingered on the front lawn, making plans for another study session or waiting for their parents to pick them up. Anais crossed the front lawn, her face tight with anger as she yelled at someone following her.
The woman following Anais wore a shoulder-padded business suit and carried a file folder stamped with Peak & Brown’s insignia.
“Oh no,” Fallon whispered.
The boy settled back into his seat, closing his eyes and humming to the music blasting through his headphones.
Fallon wished she could run out the door and rescue Anais. Nothing good could come from a Peak & Brown’s employee showing up on campus, especially when Anais had no desire to work with the company. Fallon fogged the glass with her breath as she watched the saleswoman corner Anais.
Anais stuck her fingers in her ears and refused to listen to whatever the saleswoman said. Bear came around the corner with his judo teammates, dressed in their gym clothes for afterschool practice, and noticed his girlfriend’s distress. He straightened his back and said something to the saleswoman.
Instead of being intimidated by the burly boy, the saleswoman merely laughed. When the saleswoman opened her mouth again, Fallon felt a wave of dread. She couldn’t hear anything through the glass, but she still knew that Anais’s secret had finally tumbled forth.
Anais’s face went slack with shock. Then, she came beautifully to life, launching pebbles and grass at the saleswoman. The saleswoman dodged them easily, and Fallon had to wonder if this kind of confrontation was something the woman was used to.
Bear just stood there, stunned. When Anais took a step in Bear’s direction, his teammates surrounded him. He shook his head and left her there.
Fallon headed toward the circulation desk, anxious to help Anais somehow. The library became stifling. She rocked back on her heels. Why wasn’t Ms. Ward finished talking to Bram yet? Duty kept her stationed at the desk.
Luckily, Anais knew where to find Fallon. She showed up in the library as a shaking mess, the saleswoman on her tail.
“Peak and Brown’s needs your face for our new campaign. The world wants to know what’s happened to our dear little biscuit girl,” the saleswoman said, loud enough for the entire library to hear. “Promise me you’ll consider coming back.”
“This is a library,” Fallon said, standing as tall as she could. “If you don’t have a guest pass, you need to leave campus immediately.”
“One minute with Anais, if you don’t mind,” the saleswoman said.
Fallon grabbed the phone off the circulation desk and held it like a threat. “The assistant principals are on speed dial.”
The saleswoman backed down. “Remember what we talked about,” she said, shooting Anais one last desperate glance.
“You’re okay,” Fallon said, approaching her friend. “It’s over.”
Anais covered her face with her hands. “I can’t.”
Fallon grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her toward the geography section, presently unoccupied by eavesdroppers. They sat on the ground, surrounded by outdated atlases and tomes on cultures, also outdated.
“You heard enough to know what happened,” she said angrily. “The entire school will be talking about it tomorrow.”
“What about Bear?”
Anais rubbed her eyes roughly to stop the tears. “He hates me.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“You didn’t see his face.”
“Maybe you should start from the beginning.”
Anais wiped her nose on her blazer. Over the weekend, her father had gotten a few calls from Peak & Brown’s. The company wanted Anais to return for a new line of biscuits, as well as become their mascot through commercials and interviews. That wasn’t the kind of attention she wanted. Anais argued with her father until he finally agreed to turn down the company’s offer, but Peak & Brown’s didn’t give up: The company sent Mrs. Cools, the tenacious saleswoman, to represent their offer in person. The woman had been following her since that morning. “She must have hid in the bushes or something while I was in classes,” Anais said, “lying in wait until school was over.”
Mrs. Cools cornered Anais right on the lawn. Fallon had seen that. With no teachers or assistant principals around, the saleswoman freely pitched the offer again to Anais. Loudly. When Bear came to help her, he ended up hearing everything.
“He knows everything,” she said. “Worse still, the vile woman thought that Bear was unfit to be my boyfriend. Said he wasn’t ‘biscuit tin material.’”
“She said that?”
“To his face. Right in front of the team.”
This was worse than Fallon thought. “What did Bear do?”
“He believed her.”
“I’m not taking her side,” Fallon said gently, “but Bear’s position as your boyfriend has always been precarious. I mean, you never told him about the drugstore or the biscuit tins. He must have felt like you were a stranger when he heard Mrs. Cools’s accusations.”
Anais frowned.
Fallon shook her head. “I hate to say it, but even Zita warned you that this was going to happen.”
“I don’t want to lose him.”
“Did he break up with you?”
She sniffed. “He didn’t say.”
“Then this could just be a fight.” Fallon squeezed her hand. “Bear needs time to digest what he’s heard, but you’re going to have to be the one to apologize.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know how.”
Sometimes Anais atoned for a sharp word or thoughtless act, but never by saying “I’m sorry.” She’d buy sweets for Nico after having a heated debate with him, or leave fresh flowers for Fallon after having made a crude comment the day before. This behavior carried over into Anais’s dating life. Her high expectations prevented her past boyfriends from lasting long; she broke up with them early enough not to have offended them too badly.
“You love Bear,” Fallon said.
Anais nodded.
“Then try to learn. We can practice. You’ll be a professional apologizer when I’m done with you.”
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Anais cracked a smile. “I’m in your hands.”
Ms. Ward’s office door opened. Bram emerged and shook the librarian’s hand. He looked unhappy about it and shot Fallon a begrudging nod on his way out.
“Fallon, why is there a line at the circulation desk?” Ms. Ward said.
“Sorry; I’m coming.”
Anais groaned. “That sounded so easy. Why can’t I do that?”
Fallon hid her smile as she hurried back to the desk. She took over stamping as Ms. Ward typed in the ID numbers.
“It worked,” Ms. Ward whispered giddily.
“What did?”
“You have a whole army behind you now,” she said, tapping the enter key too dramatically.
It took a moment for Fallon to realize what she meant.
* * *
November ended buried in paper. Even the rebellion took a backseat as final exams became a reality. Fallon puzzled over take-home quizzes, hunting through her textbooks for the elusive answers. Her essays poured from pencil to paper like sludge. Charms hung from windows and doors. Some were silencing charms, though none of them were expensive enough to obliterate sound like Bram’s was. Fallon purchased a focus charm, made from fluorite, a pale, greenish-purple stone that hung from a silver string.
She tried studying with Sebastian, but he wouldn’t take it seriously. He was more interested in collecting silence from her apartment, lying on the wood floor with his eyes closed, the recorder capturing the sounds of her pencil scratching forever. When he did study, he cracked jokes and chewed on his pen caps. Sometimes their feet brushed under the table and her cheeks grew hot.
It was too much of a distraction. How he passed his exams was a mystery to her.
Between studying, Fallon promised to help Anais work on her absent apology skills. She assigned Anais a new and more challenging task every time they met. The last one was for Anais to bump into three people on the street and give them a quick apology. Somehow, Anais failed to make even one apology. She either snapped at the person she bumped into or just kept walking, forgetting the point of the assignment.
Love Fortunes and Other Disasters Page 18