Love Charms and Other Catastrophes

by Kimberly Karalius

  Nico leaned on the back of Martin’s chair. “Put that speech away. We’re at a party,” he said softly.

  “I’m not happy with it,” Martin said.

  “The freshmen are going to be bored and overexcited at orientation anyway. You don’t have to put in so much effort.”

  “But it’s my last speech.” Martin put the papers away and sighed. “Being a senior feels … so final. It’s all going to be over soon.”

  Worry flashed in Nico’s eyes, but he squeezed the back of Martin’s chair and said nothing.

  Hijiri fidgeted. She was about to speak when the twins asked everyone to come to the table. She grabbed the nearest chair, facing the ocean, while Fallon and Nico sat on either side of her. The twins sat on opposite ends of the table, raising their goblets of raspberry lemonade like queens.

  “A toast to the rebellion,” Femke said.

  Everyone lifted their goblets.

  “A rebellion without a cause,” Sebastian added, “now that Zita is gone.”

  “But we still have our friendships,” Fallon said.

  “And bravery,” Nico said, smiling at Martin.

  “And a new mission,” Mirthe said. All eyes locked on her. “Later. Let’s enjoy the food.”

  Hijiri filled her bowl to the top with fish stew. She ate quietly, listening to everyone talk about their plans for the semester. The stew was thick with carp, carrots, onions, and potatoes, seasoned with bay leaves and sage. The richness warmed her inside and out. Sand swirled at her ankles, stirred by the breeze. The party was delightfully caught between hot and cold. Maybe it was that dreamlike juxtaposition that made Hijiri anxious for the punch line—what new adventure could the twins reveal?

  “Do we have something to worry about?” Hijiri said into her bowl.

  Femke dipped a fry into the mayonnaise and chewed thoughtfully. “What, indeed?”

  Hijiri’s head snapped up. She hadn’t realized she had spoken aloud.

  Mirthe’s eyes twinkled. “The town needs us again. So we’re going to enter the love charm competition.”

  Hijiri’s stomach twisted. “What competition?”

  “News has been spreading locally since last month,” Nico said, his brow furrowing. “Grimbaud hasn’t done well since losing Zita. A love charm revival just isn’t happening yet, and the town council is concerned that the lack of, well, love in Grimbaud will turn tourists off.”

  “So the council came up with a love charm-making competition to inspire town spirit,” Mirthe said. “The three love charm-makers that moved here over the summer will be participating … but they’re outsiders, guys. None of them should win. Someone homegrown, with true affection for this town, needs to win.”

  Hijiri regretted not keeping up with Grimbaud news over the summer. She stirred her soup but didn’t feel like eating anymore. All eyes fell on her. She started to sweat. “Why are you looking at me? This isn’t my hometown.”

  “You’re the best we’ve got,” Mirthe said firmly. “And you love Grimbaud, right? Your charm-making skills are already indisputable. Winning will be easy. The other love charm-makers don’t stand a chance.”

  “You won’t be alone,” Fallon said softly.

  “We’re entering as a team, just like the shops did,” Femke said.

  “We’ll use our standing as a club to enter the competition. Principal Bemelmans will have to approve it first, but I’m sure we can convince him,” Mirthe said.

  “So long as Fallon waits in the hallway,” Sebastian said wryly. “He’s probably still sensitive about her refusing to eat his famous casserole last year.”

  Fallon crossed her arms but agreed.

  Martin wiped his mouth on a napkin and said that he could get them a meeting with the principal on Monday.

  Hijiri felt the world spinning out from under her feet. Her friends spoke faster than normal, more buzzing than words, and her stomach imitated the roll of the ocean. The idea of being in a competition—onstage, in front of hundreds of people—made her want to hop on the first train back to Lejeune. But underneath that, the challenge of crafting the best love charms she could was enticing.

  This could be the year I make my mark as a great love charm-maker, said a little voice in her head. Are you watching, Love?

  Hijiri put down her spoon and twisted the tablecloth in her hands. When she looked up, she tried to sound braver than she felt. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  By the time the party ended, the sun hung low in the sky. The pink of a blooming sunset crept on the edges of the horizon. Sebastian and Fallon walked ahead of her, holding hands, while Hijiri wrestled with her thoughts. During the group hug that ensued after Hijiri had agreed to join the competition, her hairband had snapped. Without the weather charm’s breeze, her long, ink-black hair stuck to her spine.

  “We’ll check out the competition tomorrow, okay?” Fallon said as they reached the wooden gate of the complex. “You’ll feel better when we see them. I’m curious about these new love charm-makers too.”

  Hijiri nodded and wished her and Sebastian good night. She couldn’t imagine sleeping.

  She fished her key out of her pocket—and nearly bumped into a giant present sitting outside her apartment door. The present was a cardboard box wrapped in iridescent white paper with a red ribbon around it.

  What was it doing there? Who did it belong to? It couldn’t possibly be for her. Her parents didn’t surprise her with gifts. She hadn’t ordered any new charm-making supplies either. Despite that, the box was perfectly lined up with Hijiri’s door. And when she checked again, leaning in close, she saw her name printed on a tag hanging from the ribbon.

  “Are you Hijiri Kitamura?” said a muffled voice from inside the box.

  A squeak escaped Hijiri’s mouth as she jumped away from the box. Her heart beat wildly.

  “Are you?”

  “Y-yes?”

  “That sounded like a question,” the voice said, amused. “Can I come out now?”

  She wasn’t sure if she wanted a talking thing in a box to ever come out. She couldn’t say anything, but her sharp intake of breath must have been enough.

  The box trembled as the something in the inside pushed. The ribbon fell away. The top flaps opened with a loud tear of tape and wrapping paper.

  A boy stepped out of the box.

  Chapter 2

  MADE WITH LOVE

  Hijiri’s heart roared in her ears, making it hard to think. A boy just stepped out of that box. A living, breathing boy, she thought. Or is he? Nothing was making sense.

  The boy had ink-black hair like a duckling, soft and wild on the top of his head, while flat against his cheeks in front of his ears. He had narrow shoulders and a sharp chin, softened by full lips. He’s certainly thin enough to have fit inside the box, she thought with some worry. The dusky rose coat and white shirt he wore hung off of him.

  “How do you know who I am?” Hijiri asked. “Who are you?”

  The boy’s dark eyes roamed her face. “I’m a gift.”

  “I see that,” Hijiri said, taking in the torn wrapping paper and the ribbon draped around his neck like a scarf. There was confetti too. From inside the box. Pieces of it stuck to his clothes and skin.

  Hot wind blew across the complex, momentarily blinding Hijiri. She shielded her eyes with her hand. With the wind came a man finishing the last bites of a chocolate-drizzled waffle. Grayed at the temples with pressed khakis, a sweater vest, and owlishly round glasses, the man looked like an academic.

  “Hello, Hijiri,” the man said, licking a drop of chocolate off his thumb. The key around his neck told her exactly who he was.

  “Hello, Love,” she said with a smile.

  Love put his arm around the boy like a proud parent. “Allow me to introduce you to Kentaro Oshiro. He’s starting school here. A transfer student. Your age. Please be kind to him,” he said, “because I created him just for you.”

  “Ken,” the boy corrected, holding his hand out
to her.

  Hijiri blinked. Without thinking, she shook hands with him. His grip was firm, his hand swallowing hers.

  “Go on, admire my handiwork,” Love said, gesturing at Ken. “I’m sure you’ll find him to your taste. I can already sense your heart beating a little harder.”

  “You made him,” Hijiri whispered.

  Love nodded.

  “For me?” If her stomach had twisted at news of the competition, this pain was much worse: her insides hollowed out, anxiety ricocheting against the lining.

  Throughout the exchange, Ken’s eyes never left hers. The pleasant smile he wore morphed into a concerned frown. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for her again.

  Hijiri flinched and stepped back. “He’s a charm,” she said, staring at the boy’s feet. “He’s just a charm, and you want me to accept him as my boyfriend?”

  Love crossed his arms. “You know, I don’t do this for just anyone. Most people spend their entire lives searching for their true loves. I’m simply giving you yours now. It’s a present. Clever, right?” He picked up a scrap of wrapping paper and waved it at her. “I’ve been keeping my eye on you since Zita’s fall. You seem to be having a difficult time with love.”

  “My charms are coming out just fine,” she snapped.

  “Not charms. I mean your love life.”

  Heat crawled up her cheeks. She was about to say it was none of his business, but that wasn’t true. He was Love, the very essence of it in a physical form, and getting on his bad side was a terrible idea.

  “Your heart is so small,” Love said quietly. “There’s no room for love. Or so you believe. Let me prove you wrong. Give Ken a chance.”

  But he’s fake. No more a boy than an illusion, Hijiri thought. Tears burned the back of her throat, but she refused to show them how upset she was.

  Love exhaled loudly and wiped his face. He let the scrap of wrapping paper fall from his hand. “The time has come for me to take inventory again. I must measure the state of love in the world, and that means I won’t be here to watch how Grimbaud fares in the next few months without me. There will be challenges, Hijiri. Pay special attention to the new love charm-makers.”

  “You know about the love charms competition, then?” Hijiri said, grateful for the slight change in topic. She tried not to look at Ken.

  Love’s smug smile was all the answer she needed. He had to be involved somehow. “The town is in good hands with you here.”

  The praise made her squirm. “But you gave me this charmed boy. Like I actually need the help. Which I don’t.”

  “Then solve him,” Love said, losing patience, “if he’s such a puzzle to you.”

  Ken shrugged with a shy smile.

  “Find me if you need me. The cupids have ears,” Love said, raising his hand in a mock salute. He stepped back on his heel and the wind returned, tossing her hair in her face. When the air settled, Love was gone. So was the box.

  The red ribbon still hung around Ken’s neck, but the wind must have stolen his pink coat. He wasn’t wearing it anymore. Instead, he slung a large duffel bag over his shoulder and smiled at her. “You miss the coat,” he said.

  “Not really,” Hijiri said. “What was the point of it?”

  “Love’s idea. He thinks pink is my color,” Ken said.

  Hijiri stared at him. He looked almost normal now, with the duffel bag and the plain white shirt and the fact that his chest expanded and shrank with each breath. Like a person. But he’s not a person. He’s a charm. She rubbed her eyes, squinted at him, and then rubbed them again. Unease made her fidgety. She turned on her heel without another word and climbed the staircase. When she heard footsteps on the stairs below her, she looked over her shoulder. “Are you following me?”

  Ken grabbed the handrail. “My room is on the second floor.”

  Hijiri sucked in a breath.

  “You don’t have to show me where it is.”

  “You’re living here?”

  “I have a scholarship,” he said. “Love is paying for everything.”

  Hijiri nodded, as if his answer made perfect sense. Then she reached Fallon’s door and knocked as hard as she could.

  Fallon opened the door within seconds, her hands red and slightly soapy from the kitchen sink. “What’s the matter?” she asked, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Who’s that behind you?”

  “Kentaro Oshiro,” the charm-boy said, brushing past Hijiri to shake Fallon’s hand. “Love sent me here as a gift to Hijiri. I hope she’ll fall in love with me.”

  Fallon chewed on her lip, amused. “Is that so?”

  Hijiri’s hands started shaking. She curled them into fists. First the love charm-making competition. Now this. She needed Fallon on her side, to understand. “He’s serious. I found him wrapped up in a box outside my door. Like, with a ribbon and everything.”

  Ken slid the red ribbon off his shoulders and handed it to Fallon for inspection.

  Fallon rubbed the ribbon between her fingers. She raised it to her nose and sniffed. “Grosgrain ribbon, nice,” Fallon murmured. “And a little … The ribbon’s humming with charm magic. Even I can feel it.”

  “Do I hear the evaluation of clothing material?” called Sebastian, from inside Fallon’s apartment.

  “Almost,” Fallon called back with a laugh.

  “Seriously, focus,” Hijiri said, digging her nails into her skin. “This is a big problem.”

  Fallon turned her sharp gaze on Ken. “So it’s true, then?”

  Ken opened his mouth, only to gasp on the first word. His face turned red when he tried again.

  Hijiri’s heart lurched. Was he okay? He looked like he was choking … on what? Air?

  He touched his throat, frowning, and said, “Love sent me here.”

  “And you’re supposed to get Hijiri to love you. That sounds like manipulation,” Fallon said.

  “I may be a charm,” he said, “but I don’t know what kind.”

  “So you don’t know how you were made?” Hijiri relaxed a little. Curiosity made her fingers itch. “You must know something.”

  Ken coughed and shook his head. “I guess that’s where you come in. Love said you could solve me.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’ll love you.”

  “Then figure me out,” Ken said with a soft smile. “I’ll enjoy the attention.”

  Hijiri sighed.

  Sebastian came to the door, wrapping an arm around Fallon’s waist. He wore his usual smirk, the curl of his lip rising when he spotted Ken. “Hi there, charm-boy. Did I hear right? Love gave Hijiri this guy, and then what?”

  Hijiri rehashed the last few minutes to them both, from Ken popping out of the present to Love’s windy exit. She told them about Love’s hand in the love charm-making competition, and how he would be away from Grimbaud while taking inventory for the next few months. “He also said to keep watch over the new love charm-makers. If Love’s concerned about them…”

  “Then we have to be too,” Fallon said. “The twins were onto something when they said that a local should be competing.”

  “All the more reason to meet these charm-makers tomorrow,” Sebastian said. “While you two go love charm shopping, I can show Ken around town. He looks lost already.”

  Ken’s smile widened. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t be so nice to him,” Hijiri said, fidgeting. “He could … disappear into a puff of smoke or collapse into a pile of glitter when you’re not looking.”

  “Do you think Love made me so flimsy?” Ken said, his eyebrows lifting.

  “You are flimsy.” He was too thin. Probably lacking muscles of any kind. She’d never understand Love. If only she could identify the charms that held him together. What had Love done to make him?

  He caught her intense stare. “You’re trying to dissect me. I think that means it’s time for me to go.”

  “Do the puff of smoke thing,” Sebastian said.

  “Sorry, I just have my two feet.” Ken took his key out of the
front zipper of his duffel bag. His eyes landed on Hijiri once more. “Tomorrow.”

  “Good night,” Hijiri muttered. She pressed her fist against her heart, trying to muffle its beating.

  * * *

  After a fitful sleep, Hijiri tumbled out of bed early the next morning and started unpacking her suitcase. The few clothes she brought fit easily in her closet. The rest—her charm-making materials—were more complicated to reorganize and find a place for in her bedroom.

  Hijiri gathered a few potion bottles and notes in her arms and looked for a place to put them. Last year, she had used a corner of her bedroom for charm-making: the perfect spot to hide from prying eyes and conduct her crafting in secret. As an extra precaution, she always covered her worktable with a shoji screen. I couldn’t let anyone find out I made love charms. Not with Zita monopolizing the craft, Hijiri thought, remembering how careful she had been. She could have been kicked out of town like Grimbaud’s past love charm-makers … or worse.

  She had tried to tell her parents numerous times last year that she couldn’t get a good education in Grimbaud with the situation the way it was, but they hadn’t believed her.

  Her parents had always supported her dreams but never looked too closely at them.

  “Nothing to fear now,” Hijiri said to herself, adjusting the supplies in her arms. “Zita’s gone. It’s okay be a love charm-maker here again.”

  It was okay to be public about it.

  Hijiri shuddered. It might be okay, but it still scared her.

  Her current problem was finding out what to do with her newfound freedom. Where should she put her charm supplies now? The bedroom and bathroom were off of the kitchen. The kitchen overlooked the living room and the front door—a long, unused stretch of space. And very, very out in the open.

  Hijiri swallowed thickly and mumbled, “I’ll figure it out later. Fallon will help me. For now, I’ll put everything where it used to be.”

  She set up her table with the supplies she had left in her closet over the summer. Then arranged everything so that it made sense to her. By the time she finished, she decided to put off unpacking the rest of her suitcase and shoved it under her bed. Hijiri stopped to breathe. Her body ached and her head felt cottony from nerves. After a dull summer, so much had happened. Surely Ken was a figment of her imagination. There wasn’t enough room in her reality for him.