Love Charms and Other Catastrophes

by Kimberly Karalius

  “Can you tell anything about them?” Ken asked.

  Hijiri shook her head. “Not enough. We don’t even know their names.”

  “Then Sofie is the important one,” he said.

  Hijiri’s eyes widened. They knew her profession and how involved she was with art by the way she dressed and held herself. Even now, Sofie waited by running her finger over her dress in patterns.

  “Will you look at that? Heartwrench turned in its question first,” Bram said, holding up a teal card.

  Ryker high-fived his uncle.

  Detective Archambault plucked the card from Bram and inspected it. Smelled it. Closed one eye and turned it upside down in her hands.

  “Why did she smell the card?” Fallon asked, more to herself than anyone.

  “Does it matter right now? I have the question,” Hijiri said, shoving the card at her. “Can you write it down? You have better handwriting.”

  Fallon blinked and took the card, uncapping the pen Sebastian handed her.

  “You weren’t entirely wrong when you suggested a favorites question,” Hijiri said, looking at Mirthe. “But we can do better. Something more pointed, situational.”

  “Don’t keep us in suspense,” Nico said. “We have to approve it before time runs out.”

  “Our solemn duty as your fellow club members,” Martin said.

  Clea and Mandy ran to Bram next with their pink card. Sanders elbowed his way through the crowd. Instead of giving his orange card to Bram, he handed it straight to Detective Archambault. Both cards got the same inspection from the detective.

  Hijiri lowered her voice to a whisper. When everyone leaned their heads into the circle, close enough to brush one another’s foreheads, she told them the question.

  Mirthe said it sounded too long. Femke argued that it wasn’t long enough. Nico thought it was fine since it fit Sofie’s passion. Martin wondered what would happen if one of the men couldn’t come up with an answer.

  “That’s simple,” Ken said. “It would mean he isn’t the one for Sofie.”

  Fallon held the pencil over the card, her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for the outcome. “Ready?”

  Hijiri said the question again, this time a little sharper, a little different, and the club approved. After Fallon finished the dot on the question mark, Hijiri ran as fast as she could as Bram counted down the last seconds. Detective Archambault plucked the purple card out of Hijiri’s fingers just in time.

  The charm theory club exploded into cheers. Hijiri looked back at them and smiled, pushing her hair away from her face.

  “Everyone’s in,” Bram said, waving the cards. “Get ready, Grimbaud. After all the questions are asked, you must cast your vote for the question you believe was the best. See the bowl of red marbles? Take one marble only and drop it into the jar with the color that matches the index cards.” Bram held up the purple one. “If you liked the purple question, put your marble in the purple jar. Simple as that.”

  Hijiri’s stomach twisted. No wonder Bram hadn’t talked about the voting right away. She couldn’t look at the people around her—the crowd, the voters—so she kept her eyes glued to Sofie. The young woman was nervous too; she shuffled the colored cards until they fell out of order.

  “First question from the pink card,” Sofie said, her voice loud against Bram’s microphone.

  “Pink,” Bram echoed. Then he pointed at Clea and Mandy to remind the audience which shop the color belonged to, for anyone who had daydreamed when the colored cards had been passed out. Metamorphosis’s card.

  “What is your favorite part of your morning beauty routine?” Sofie asked.

  Sebastian snorted. A few surprised bursts of laughter followed after, but Clea and Mandy remained untroubled. In fact, Clea’s smug expression showed she was confident that their question was excellent. Maybe she always asks her clients that, Hijiri thought.

  A trickle of sweat ran down Guy #1’s face.

  Bram was thoroughly amused. “Well, what do you have to say, men? Be honest.”

  “I don’t have a routine,” Guy #1 admitted. “Waking up is hard enough.”

  Sofie nodded vigorously, even though neither could see the other.

  Guy #2 said he loved seeing his clothes laid out on his bedside chair from the night before. Being prepared like that, especially when he hit the snooze button a few times, made him feel confident about facing a new day.

  “Hair gel,” Guy #3 said, stroking his beard. “But never on the beard. My friends have been trying to get me to buy a beard grooming kit, but I refuse. The natural look is the best. It’s my pride and joy.”

  Sofie scrunched her nose. She played with the corner of her card.

  Bram shook his head and walked the length of the stage, saying, “I’m with Number One on this question. But you know, there might be something romantic about brushing your teeth in the morning.”

  Fallon frowned and whispered, “Of course there is. Personal hygiene.”

  Sebastian wrapped his arm around her waist and hugged her close.

  “Second question is from the orange card,” Sofie said, holding up the card.

  That one belongs to Love For All. Hijiri leaned forward, eager to hear what sort of question Sanders had come up with.

  “Bitter or sweet?” Sofie said.

  “That’s it?” Bram said, looking over Sofie’s shoulder to read the card. “So it is. Well, then. Interpret as you like.”

  Sanders’s expression hadn’t wavered from smugness. He crossed his arms.

  Guy #1 was quick with his answer. “Anything that’s sweet. Especially with marshmallows. When I was a kid, I used to get in trouble for building snowmen out of them.”

  Guy #2 must have taken that story as a challenge, because he said, “I’m the same way with spinach.”

  “You made snowmen out of spinach?” Bram asked.

  Guy #2 sighed heavily. “My brothers were horrible at the dinner table, so I used to make them laugh by taping spinach to my lip. A spinach mustache. But I secretly loved the bitter taste. My mother never served it with salad dressing.”

  When Guy #3 got the mic, he said, “Sour.”

  Hijiri shifted her weight. Listening to the other questions going first was difficult. When Heartwrench’s card was raised, her stomach twisted again. Last. They were going last.

  “Hey,” Ken said, his face suddenly in front of hers. “Deep breaths.”

  “I’m not nervous,” she mumbled.

  “Deep breaths,” he repeated.

  Hijiri followed his directions. Inhale. Exhale. One after the other. The anxious twisting in her stomach shrank. “I’m not … This isn’t about my charms.”

  The more she thought about it, the sicker she felt. The absurd challenge wasn’t a true showcase of her skills. Just let me have five more minutes, she thought, and a few words and fern leaves and—

  Ken brushed his knuckle against her chin. It was a ghostlike touch, but enough to send a shiver through her body. “This is a test of instinct,” he told her. “It’s something you already possess. You don’t need a charm to show how good you are.”

  Hijiri’s thoughts frayed. Instincts? Was that true?

  Sofie looked at the teal index card. Her brow furrowed when she read the question, but she eventually said it out loud. “How did you get over your last heartbreak?”

  Ryker and Gage shared a proud look with each other, but the mood in the square changed. This was a more serious, private question. None of the men answered for some time; Hijiri couldn’t blame them for hesitating.

  Guy #3 asked for the mic. “I’ve never had my heart broken,” he insisted, though his voice caught. “My ex-girlfriend left me because I refused to shave off my beard. Not that it bothered me to lose her, mind you. My love for my beard runs deeper. She just couldn’t accept me for who I am.”

  “Time,” Guy #2 said. “If it’s long enough since the breakup, your heart will heal. Mine did.”

  “Does it ever heal?” Guy #1 ask
ed. “Really? I don’t believe that. We can move on, but the scars will always be there.”

  “That’s a depressing attitude,” Guy #2 said.

  “It’s a lot less depressing with ice cream,” he replied with a smile.

  Bram cut them off before the discussion could turn into a debate. “Why don’t we see what the last question asks,” he said. “Sofie, the honors?”

  “This is it,” Mirthe hissed.

  Ken grabbed Hijiri’s left hand, while Fallon grabbed her right hand.

  Sofie gratefully lifted the purple card. Her eyebrows rose when her eyes scanned the question. A small smile touched her lips. Then she asked, “If you were in a museum, which exhibit would you go see first and why?”

  Hijiri exhaled loudly. This was it. Her question.

  Guy #2 brightened. He uncrossed his legs. “Anything contemporary, so that I have the chance to meet the artists.”

  Guy #3 said he found museums to be boring.

  When Bram asked Guy #1 for his answer, the man took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on crooked. “Some people like the traveling exhibits because they’re new and temporary. But me, I like the permanent displays. I can’t choose which type of art I like best, except that seeing the same paintings and sculptures each time is like saying hello to old friends.”

  Hijiri drew a sharp breath.

  Sofie blushed, smiling, and the patchwork on her skirt was safe from her picking for the first time that morning.

  We could win this, Hijiri thought.

  Chapter 6

  INSTINCT

  Bram asked the townspeople to vote for their favorite question while Sofie pondered her big decision. The crowd was the sea, ebbing and flowing its way around the table with the marbles. Detective Archambault stalked the stage, her eyes moving so quickly over the crowd that it was dizzying to watch.

  After a few minutes, the voting trickled to an end. Sofie left her chair and hugged the mic to her chest. With a small, bashful voice, she said, “I’d like to go on a date … with Guy Number One.”

  Guy #1 blushed straight to his ears, a look of utter shock on his round face. His glasses slipped down his nose as he struggled out of his chair.

  Before he could see her, Bram stepped in the way. “Lucky Number One, why don’t you tell us your name?”

  “Lars,” he said, breathless.

  “Lars,” Bram repeated, smiling. He stepped back and pushed the wall out of the way. “Meet Sofie.”

  A glint of light caught Hijiri’s eye. She looked up, spotting a stone cupid perched on the upper floor of a lace shop, its arrow aimed at Sofie’s back. Then another glint—from a different stone cupid whose arrow lined up with Lars. Both arrows were painted gold. Have I seen them before? Hijiri wondered, while the crowd sighed. Grimbaud had too many stone cupids to keep track of, especially since they’d been put back after Zita’s defeat.

  “Look at the cupids,” Hijiri said, grabbing Ken’s forearm.

  Ken looked from where her hand squeezed his arm to the cupids. “You know,” he said, “it’s possible that Love is still watching us, inventory or not.”

  “I thought of that.”

  “It’s comforting, right?”

  Not with the game Love was playing with her.

  Sofie held out her charcoal-stained hands. Lars took them. They stared into each other’s eyes before breaking apart, blushing and grinning as the townspeople clapped.

  The other two men shrugged off their losses. They shook hands with Sofie and Lars and left the stage.

  “Love,” Bram said dryly.

  Hijiri and her friends inched closer to the stage when Bram started counting the marbles. Detective Archambault conducted the second count, just to make sure the accountant-by-day-and-radio-host-by-night didn’t mess up.

  “In fourth place,” Bram said, “is Metamorphosis.”

  Clea gasped. Mandy chewed her nails.

  Detective Archambault took the mic and said that third place belonged to Heartwrench. Her voice was deep and husky.

  Ryker shrugged and pretended to dust off his shoulders. Gage followed his nephew’s lead but wasn’t as convincing with red-rimmed eyes.

  “Two more,” Mirthe said, bouncing on her toes.

  Bram plucked the mic back. He looked upset for a moment. Then his expression smoothed. “Second place goes to Grimbaud High’s charm theory club.”

  Hijiri’s ears itched. Had she heard right?

  “You know what that means,” Bram said.

  Detective Archambault drew close to the mic. “After fairly being counted, the winner of the most votes is Love For All.”

  “Come on up, Sanders,” Bram said. As the cheering commenced, he added, “Who knew that talk of spinach mustaches would win the day?”

  Sebastian groaned. “That’s not right. It should have been about the best question, not the funniest.”

  “It’s a popularity contest,” Martin said.

  Nico grimaced. “Seems like it.”

  Hijiri blotted out the noise of the crowd as Sanders shook hands with Bram and Detective Archambault. He looked as bewildered as Hijiri felt, but he managed to give an awkward wave at the townspeople.

  “Hijiri,” Ken called her. “Hijiri, Martin’s right. Don’t get discouraged.”

  “I’m not,” she said, even as her mouth ran dry. “This challenge had nothing to do with love charms. There’s no reason for me to be upset.”

  The words poured out of her, but she felt their falseness as easily as she saw it on her friends’ faces. They didn’t believe her.

  * * *

  The sound of canal water lapping at the bank could be calming. Sometimes. Hijiri rested her elbows on the ledge as she peered down at the water. She chose a bridge with a rough ledge, the rocks uneven and catching her sleeves. Behind her, bicyclists whizzed by. Leaves parachuted to the ground.

  The hurt of losing the challenge was a barb lodged in her heart, unfamiliar and unwelcome. She hated how mangled she felt inside.

  When the rebellion had found out that she was a love charm-maker, Hijiri felt validated. Her knowledge aided Nico in negating Camille’s hold on Martin. The twins asked her for advice. They used the charms she created. Nothing made her prouder. Once cracked open, her secret became her way of making real friends.

  Back home, she shared her love charm creations with her neighbors, if she shared them at all. Privacy was key to her crafting, so hiding her talent when she came to Grimbaud for her freshman year had come naturally. She had no reason to assume she was a good love charm-maker. After all, she only had herself, her parents, and her friends to attest to her skills.

  Love believed in her. Love had even offered her Zita’s old position, had she wanted it. That counted for something, right?

  “But other people exist in the world,” Hijiri muttered, resting her chin on the ledge. “And they have opinions too. I better get used to it.”

  This competition gave her a new perspective. Showed her that maybe she wasn’t as good as she had thought.

  Since the bridge was close to the Barnes Canal Cruises main booth, Hijiri walked the short distance to see if Nico was inside. A line of people waited to book cruises for the day. The booth was striped white and pink, with an old statue of a mermaid squeezing a heart in each hand. Hijiri thought the mermaid looked a little too happy holding those hearts. No one in the Barnes family remembered the significance of the mermaid, so she fell into the habit of theorizing each time she passed the booth. Did the hearts belong to a pair of lovers who threw themselves into a canal? Not that mermaids had ever lived in the canals, not even in Grimbaud’s mythology.

  One of the cruise boats returned. As the tourists disembarked, Hijiri spotted Nico behind the wheel with his father. He wore his trademark windbreaker, his damp hair sticking on end. No matter what kinds of plans her friends made, Nico always had to go running back to the canal cruises afterward; his parents expected him to use his free time working the booths or helping on the boats.
Only a few hours before, Nico had been with the rest of the club at the challenge.

  Seeing him back at work made her sad but also comforted. This was normal. Losing the challenge hadn’t changed everything.

  Nico waved at her when he saw her. Hold on, he mouthed, before turning back to his father.

  Hijiri sat on a bench overlooking the canal while she waited.

  “Did you shake off the second-place blues?” Nico asked, warming his hands with a cup of coffee from the booth.

  “I think I’m beginning to,” she admitted. “It’s not easy.”

  Nico sipped his coffee. “You’re pretty competitive.”

  “A trait I didn’t know I had.”

  He stared thoughtfully at his feet. “You know, I never thought of myself as competitive either. I didn’t have time to, keeping up with learning the ins and outs of the family business. As an only child, I don’t have any rivals for inheriting the business someday. But then, I’ve been competing with myself the whole time, with my father as judge. It gets exhausting.”

  Hijiri competed with herself too. No one else had served as her judge before. Her parents hadn’t evaluated her love charms. As a sophomore without an apprenticeship lined up with a love charm-maker, and no plans to choose one, she was lost. Only her heart and head could guide her.

  “We were all worried about you after the challenge. You didn’t have to run off.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Ken even went looking for you.”

  Her heart jumped. “I didn’t see him.”

  “Must have gotten lost.” Nico tapped on the lid of the coffee cup. “Martin’s coming over tonight to study.”

  Grateful for the subject change, Hijiri said, “So you do have time to spare for him.”

  “My dad and I argued about it during the summer, but he’s okay with me being a normal teenager sometimes,” Nico said with a laugh. “Especially after he and Mom met Martin. They both like him.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It won’t last though.”

  His morose response startled her. Hijiri looked up. “What do you mean?”

  “This is our last year together. Martin graduates in May,” Nico said, fiddling with his coffee lid. “He should be going away to college.”