“You’re selling charmed candy to underage children,” Fallon said loudly.
Sanders curled his lip. “Of course I am. Don’t they teach the basics of supply and demand here? My customers want the candy, and if I don’t sell it to them, they will just steal it. Shoplifting seems to be particularly prevalent in this ‘sweet’ little town.”
Fallon made a strangled sound. Her cheeks flushed. “You can’t get away with this.”
Sanders crossed his arms tighter but otherwise appeared unfazed. He blinked slowly. “Are you done?”
“What kind of love charm-maker are you? If you’re one at all,” Hijiri said.
“My charm-making skills will speak for me once the competition begins. Feel free to join the audience. I hear Verbeke Square will be packed.”
Hijiri wanted to say she’d be there too—onstage, ready to show off her own skills—but her participation wasn’t secured yet. Her jaw hurt when she clenched it. “We’ll see you there,” she said as pleasantly as she could manage.
Fallon didn’t bother being nice. Instead, she complained about the stickiness of the tile floor before shooting Sanders one last withering glare.
Sanders merely waved good-bye.
* * *
When Hijiri got back to the complex, she paused at the gate. Then she crouched and looked through the cracks in the wooden gate. Not now, please, she mentally groaned when she confirmed Ken was waiting for her outside her door. I can’t handle him right now. Not after everything.
“Are you hiding?” Fallon whispered.
“I don’t want to talk to Ken,” Hijiri said, rubbing her face. Her head hurt and her fingers itched for therapy in the form of love charm-making. “I can’t deal with him right now.”
Fallon sighed. “I’ll tell him to come back later.”
Hijiri grabbed Fallon’s ankle. “Not later. Tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please.”
Fallon tucked her hair behind her ears. “Okay, then.”
Hijiri stayed in her hiding spot as Fallon closed the gate behind her and said hello to Ken. She hoped that this plan would work—she couldn’t sneak into her apartment through the windows since they were locked, unless she wanted to risk Mrs. Smedt’s wrath by breaking one. Which seemed ridiculous just to avoid a charm-boy.
She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she saw Ken’s smile flatten and his shoulders slump when Fallon must have told him that she wasn’t home … or something like that. Whatever excuse Fallon’s giving him is probably a sound one, knowing her.
After Ken left to go back upstairs, Fallon gave Hijiri a thumbs-up. All clear. “I told him you were at the library reading up on love charms,” Fallon said. “You could be there all night, so he shouldn’t wait up.”
“Thank you. That sounds like me,” Hijiri said, relieved.
“Good. Get some sleep, then. School’s starting tomorrow. Don’t forget.”
Hijiri nodded and nearly leapt into her apartment. The day’s events left her restless. Nothing but silence and charm-making could mend her frazzled thoughts now. Her fingers darted across her worktable, pinching sugar, smoothing rose petals, and drawing diagrams of the few love charms she hadn’t gotten to making over the summer. Her hair fell over her shoulder, landing in the bottle of ink she had open on the table. She hadn’t realized she’d been so preoccupied until her hair left black streaks on her shirt when she leaned back.
“Maybe Fallon’s right,” she muttered, rubbing her thumb over the stains. Charm-making usually calmed her, but she felt like she was racing. I want to outrun today, she thought with a snort. But the only way I can do that is to leave it behind. Time for bed.
* * *
Monday morning, Hijiri took a shower and donned her Grimbaud High uniform. If her mirror was being truthful, she somewhat resembled a human being. Good. When she heard a knock on her door, she finger-combed her bangs into place before jogging over to answer it.
Kentaro stood on the other side, holding a paper bag that smelled deliciously of lemon and blueberry.
Her stomach gurgled; she slapped a hand over it, as if it would smother the sound.
“Good morning to you too,” he said, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter.
Hijiri felt at least three levels of embarrassment at once. Her stomach betrayed her by growling. “You’re outside my door. Again.”
“This time, not in a box,” he said cheerfully. “I bought muffins from the café a few blocks from here. The smell was incredible.”
Her stomach let out a whine of agreement.
“The muffins are bribery, if you must know,” Ken said, lowering his voice. He looked nervous. “I came here to ask … if it’s okay to walk to school together.”
She felt for him. School wasn’t that great, after all; as a charm-boy, he probably had no idea what he was in for. “Of course we’re walking together,” she said. “Come inside. I haven’t restocked the kitchen yet, but if you’re okay with tap water…”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
Ken must be a morning person, she thought with some envy. His eyes weren’t crusty from sleep, and not even a whisper of a yawn touched his lips as he took in her plain apartment. He wore the standard Grimbaud High uniform: brown slacks and a white polo shirt worn underneath a brown-and-gold sweater. It took Hijiri a minute to realize he was wearing the winter uniform. In August.
“Why are you wearing that?” she asked.
“Sweater’s part of the uniform.”
“Yeah, when it’s actually cold out.”
“I get cold easily.”
Hijiri chewed her lip. “Could be a flaw in your design,” she said, staring at him. “Love shouldn’t have missed such an important detail. I wish I had a thermometer on me.”
“My body temperature is normal,” Ken insisted, brushing past her to place the bag of muffins on the kitchen table. “I just like sweaters and being warm. I heard that high schools have frosty air-conditioning systems, despite the weather outdoors.”
“You heard?”
“Love told me.”
“So you’ve never been … to school?”
Ken looked almost relieved when he said, “Never.”
Hijiri wanted to slap herself. Of course he’s never been to school. He’s a charm. He hasn’t experienced anything besides being squished in a box.
Ken began searching the cabinets for glasses.
“I can do that,” she said, scrambling after him.
“You were in a different world just now,” he said.
“I was thinking.”
Ken raised his eyebrows. He handed her two glasses from the cabinet. They were dusty, so Hijiri took them to the sink to wash them.
He pulled a few more items from the cabinets. Then she heard the paper bag rustle behind her. The scent of muffins filled the room. Running water masked her stomach this time. Hijiri hustled to fill the glasses with water, knowing that as the seconds wore on, her hunger grew. Turning from the sink, she gasped.
Although she hadn’t been at the sink long, he had managed to dress the table with whatever she had left lying around the living room. Her plastic utensils framed the plates like little soldiers. The vase of begonias she was saving for charm-making made a pretty centerpiece. He had even managed to fold the paper napkins into knots.
Ken hummed as he placed each muffin on its plate; the muffins were big enough to have to cut with a knife and fork. “Come sit down,” he said.
Hijiri slowly sat in her chair. Then she poked the folded napkin. Had Love programmed him to set tables? This was only breakfast. What could he do with a candlelit dinner?
“What’s the matter?” Ken asked, grabbing his fork. She poked the napkin again and stared at the table. She stared hard enough to make her head hurt. “I know what this is,” she said, blinking. “You’re flirting with me.” Ken dropped his fork, startled by her bluntness.
Hijiri frowned, even as she cut into her muffin; it was still warm
, the heat drifting like smoke. The first bite melted on her tongue.
“About this,” he said, tapping the table with his fingers, “it just comes naturally. I wasn’t trying to flirt…”
She huffed.
“Intentionally.”
Hijiri put her elbows on the table. “Tell me how you work.”
Ken laughed. “The same way you do. An anatomy textbook would explain everything.”
“I don’t believe you. Maybe on the outside you look normal, but you’re not. You’re a charm.”
“What do you hope to gain by figuring me out?” Ken asked softly.
Hijiri’s gaze dropped to her hands. “I want to be the best love charm-maker ever. I know I’m already on the way to achieving that dream, especially since I have contact with Love, but you’re a charm I haven’t made myself. Even Zita hadn’t crafted anything like you, and she was the greatest love charm-maker we’ve had. If I could figure out how you were made, then maybe I could make a charm-boy or charm-girl too.”
“What would you do with them?”
Hijiri shrugged. “I can’t think of any uses off the top of my head.”
Ken didn’t try to hide the hurt in his eyes or the tightness around his mouth. “I’m useless?”
Hijiri shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I meant that you’re dangerous to fall in love with. Since you’re … you know … not real.” Love wants me to fall in love with him, but there’s no way I can. This will only end badly, she thought. But he was upset, and she didn’t like that. She changed her answer a little. Made it not about her. “I’d never want to put customers in such a position where they fall in love with something so transitory, but I do want to have the skills to craft something as complicated as you. That knowledge might lead me to bigger and better love charms.”
Ken shredded his napkin, then reached for another. She watched his fingers tear at the paper. How realistic each movement was. After a few minutes, he sighed and pasted a peacemaking smile on his face. “Okay, I can live with that for now.”
“I’ll solve you, puzzle-boy,” Hijiri warned, taking a bite of her muffin.
“And I’ll make you change your mind,” Ken said, matching her tone. “I’m irresistible. Just like these muffins.”
Hijiri snorted. “Now you’re desperate.”
Ken laughed.
They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was strange all the same. Ken seemed unfazed. He was perfectly calm, lost in relishing the taste of his muffin and looking around the room. Their eyes met often. She fidgeted and kicked her feet under the table.
When they were done, Ken took the plates and cups to the sink. “Would you like me to wash up?”
“No, that’s okay. You bought the food.” She paused. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Ken crossed the room and dug his own keys out of his pocket. “Will you be leaving for school soon?”
“In a few minutes.” She had to brush her teeth and toss some pens and notebooks in her bag.
* * *
Kentaro waited for her at the complex’s gate. Most Grimbaud High boys used briefcase-style or messenger bags to lug their textbooks, but again, Ken had chosen a strange alternative: a backpack that had a strap across his chest. A bad choice, she thought, since it made him look dorky.
Hijiri nodded her thanks when he opened the gate for her. “Okay. Explain the backpack.”
“These straps help distribute weight properly,” he explained. “I figure that carrying textbooks around all day would be bad for my back. Anything helps.”
“Maybe Love should have made you stronger.” Hijiri had noticed his slight, somewhat scrawny frame from the first.
Ken shrugged. “I don’t know what can and can’t hurt me. Might as well be prepared.”
“You look … sturdy enough.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. A big smile. “Thanks.”
As they walked, Ken barely watched where he was going. His eyes swept the streets and rooftops, sucking in the details that made up Grimbaud. Hijiri was glad that she didn’t have to make small talk, but she found herself sneaking glances at him, just to see what he was looking at. Cafés with open doors, coaxing in hungry passersby with strong coffee and flaky pastries. Children in their elementary school uniforms, holding hands with their parents or sitting in the backseats of cars, fogging the windows with their noses.
“Are we almost there?” he asked.
“One more street,” Hijiri said, her steps slowing. She wasn’t looking forward to the crush of students in the hallways or the pop quizzes.
A girl riding a bicycle flew past. Ken moved closer to Hijiri to avoid getting clipped. And stayed there. The back of his hand brushed hers. “Do you have any advice,” he said quietly, “on how to make friends?”
Grimbaud High loomed before them. They both stopped, marveling at the stonework of the wings flanking the original building: a gatehouse with a tunnel running through it, marking the western edge of town. The campus had a big lawn; the old, trampled grass had been replaced over the summer, and chattering students already occupied the benches.
“Hijiri?” Ken asked.
Right. His question.
“I’m not the person to ask.” Hijiri had never been able to make friends before Grimbaud. And the friends she did have … they just happened. Like fate.
Strangely, her answer made him smile. His hand brushed hers deliberately. He found the spaces between her fingers and slipped his through, his skin warm and surprisingly comforting. But Ken was still nervous; she could tell by the way his other hand squeezed his shoulder strap.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” she said impulsively. “My friends will be your friends.”
Without waiting to see his response, she tugged him forward. The usual meeting spot in the tunnel was already crowded with students eager to escape the hot sun. Hijiri squeezed through a group of confused freshmen, finally spotting her friends. Her hold on Ken’s hand stayed firm. Fallon and Sebastian waved, but Femke and Mirthe barreled toward Hijiri.
“Hello, Love-thing,” Mirthe said. Without warning, she grabbed Ken’s head and stared into his eyes, as if expecting to find an answer there. Then she told him to smile so she could inspect his teeth.
Femke felt Ken’s pulse. “Feels real to me.”
“What are you doing?” Hijiri’s voice broke. “Don’t touch him!”
Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Which was silly, since Hijiri wasn’t going to get involved with Ken. He wasn’t real and she didn’t want to invest even a sliver of her heart in a very clever charm. Except perhaps to study it. Watching the twins poke and prod at Ken made her itch to do the same.
The twins dropped their hands. Mirthe pulled off the biggest pout she’d ever seen.
Ken scratched the back of his head. He wiped his mouth where Mirthe’s fingers had been before and sucked in his breath. “I have a heartbeat,” he said, “and I need air to live. By the way, my name’s Ken.”
“Oh, he’s good,” Mirthe whispered.
“We’re sorry,” Fallon said, looking as mortified as Hijiri felt. “Sebastian and I told the twins about Ken before you two got here, but we didn’t think he’d be attacked.”
“You handled it well, actually,” Sebastian said to Ken. “I think you’ll fit in.”
“Are you really what Fallon said?” Mirthe asked. “Love made you?”
When he tried speaking, his voice caught in his throat and he coughed into his fist. Ken looked down at his hands, staring at his palms as if he could see through them. He tried again. This time, his voice was soft but firm. “Love created me for Hijiri. I already love her. If my feelings are returned, then I suppose I’ve done my job. Regardless, I belong to her. It’s as simple as that.”
Hijiri hadn’t thought it was possible for her cheeks to burn even worse. He just said he loved me. The burning spread down her neck and back. If her skin hadn’t turned the color
of a candy apple within seconds, she’d count it as a miracle. The entire confession made her dizzy, confused, and achy. Hijiri quickly shoved his words to the back of her head, where the darkness and cobwebs were.
Her friends were equally stunned. Sebastian coughed, his own cheeks pink. Fallon had her sharp gaze on Ken, her mouth turned up in a smile. When they finally found their voices, Mirthe was predictably the one with more questions.
“So tell me,” she said, her eyes aglitter, “did Love give you superpowers?”
Hijiri sputtered.
“Why would you think that?” Ken said, interested.
Femke cut in. “Because that’s how it’s done. Love must have given you some powers to aid Hijiri in her love charm-making.”
“I don’t think she needs my help with her craft,” Ken said. He broke into a boyish grin. “But there is something cool I can do.”
Chapter 4
IMPRESSING THE PRINCIPAL
Ken walked to the back of the tunnel. Hijiri’s curiosity flared as she followed him. The greenbelt separating Grimbaud from the roads leading to the next town over had been overlooked during the pre-school-year cleanup. Plastic wrappers and empty bottles were scattered in the overgrowth. Ken unsnapped his chest strap and rooted around in his backpack until he found a slingshot. “Pick any target,” he said, gesturing to the litter, “and I’ll hit it.”
“From here?” Sebastian asked.
Ken stood in the shade of the tunnel; the overgrowth had to be at least a hundred feet away. Bending down to pick up a pebble, he said, “Anything.”
From their distance, the bottles and wrappers were spots of color, half-obscured by the weeds and scraggly plants. Hijiri squinted. A teal-colored soda can caught her eye. “How about that one?” she asked, pointing.
Ken nodded. He notched the pebble. The muscles in his forearms quivered as he took aim. When he let go, the pebble whistled through the air and knocked into the can’s already-bent middle, sending it flying.
The twins let out whoops and clapped Ken on the back.
Confident before, Ken seemed to deflate after showing off. “How’d I do?” he asked Hijiri.
Love Charms and Other Catastrophes Page 4