Love Charms and Other Catastrophes

by Kimberly Karalius

  Fallon hesitated a moment before writing their names down. She chose the locations and then passed the notebook around for everyone to see:

  Sebastian and Fallon: Grimbaud High

  Nico and Martin: The Main Barnes Canal Cruises Booth

  Anais and Bear: The Belfry

  Bram and Ms. Ward: Love’s Park

  Femke and Ken: The Tunnel of Love

  Mirthe and Hijiri: Verbeke Square

  “Keep my sister out of trouble, if you can,” Femke said to Hijiri.

  Ken kept his head down. He didn’t seem the least bit upset that they weren’t in the same group.

  Verbeke Square and the Tunnel of Love weren’t terribly far away if something happened. If Stoffel happened. Hijiri tried not to show her disappointment. She hid her face behind the menu.

  After discussing further details, the meeting ended. The twins ducked out, going their separate ways. Ken lingered, finishing his sandwich, while Sebastian commended Fallon on leading the meeting.

  “They’re like children,” Fallon said, rubbing her temples. “Someone needed to step in.”

  Hijiri was about to sit down next to Ken and pry answers from him, if need be, when Nico shot out of his chair with a huge smile.

  “Martin,” he called, “you missed the meeting!”

  The student government president hugged a folder to his chest, his glasses sitting crooked on his nose. He was out of breath. When he bumped against a woman pushing a carriage, the folder spilled from his hands and papers flew out.

  Nico rushed over to help him grab the papers.

  “Don’t touch them,” Martin snapped, scrambling to pick them up.

  Nico ignored him and chased after a stray page that danced down the sidewalk. He read the page and gasped. “This is … a college acceptance letter.”

  Martin grabbed it from him so quickly that he tore the page. “It’s nothing. Just forget it.”

  Nico looked weary. He dragged a hand through his hair. His eyes were wet. “It’s your life, Martin. I care.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t care as much,” Martin said. He crushed the folder and tossed it in the nearest garbage bin.

  Hijiri turned her frustration and cracked heart on the boys. She grabbed both Martin and Nico by the wrists. “That’s enough,” she hissed. “You’re going to talk this out. Now.”

  While Hijiri sat them down, Fallon retrieved the crushed folder from the bin.

  “Thanks,” Hijiri said, taking the folder from her. “You can go back to the complex. I’ll handle this.”

  “Yes, you will.” Fallon smiled. “I believe in you.”

  The compliment warmed her. It sounded like something the charm-boy would say, if he wasn’t busy brooding over a sandwich. Hijiri looked over at him. Ken was still sitting at the table. Perhaps he wants to see if I can fix this, Hijiri thought, biting her lip. I hope I can. He should be here to see me do it. Knowing Ken was there, sulking or not, gave her a burst of confidence.

  Nico and Martin sat down, their chairs facing slightly away from each other. Nico slumped forward, his elbows on his knees, head bowed. Martin crossed his arms tightly and tapped his foot.

  Hijiri opened the folder with the torn acceptance letter on top. She had a quick look at the pages underneath and discovered that it was a welcome package for Martin—a potential student. A political science major. The university was in Wuyts, a city close to Lejeune. The commute by train would be almost as long as hers. “Do you want to tell us about this?”

  Martin’s fingers turned white.

  Nico noticed and looked worried.

  Hijiri waited a few moments, hoping her stare would be pressure enough to get Martin talking. It wasn’t. “Let me tell you what Nico’s been feeling, since you’re not talking,” she said.

  “I can guess,” Martin said solemnly.

  “I should hope so,” Hijiri said harshly, “since he’s been telling you this whole time. But you haven’t been listening enough to do something about it, so maybe you need to hear it from me.”

  Martin dug his nails into his arms. He kept his eyes on the ground.

  Hijiri knew how Nico was feeling, now more than ever. She felt something like it herself after Ken pushed her away. “When you’re not talking to him, it makes him feel deserted. It makes Nico question your trust in him. It makes him wonder if this one thing you’re not telling him will lead to other things. More secrets. Martin, is this a secret you want to hide from him?”

  Martin drew in a shaky breath. He dragged his eyes up to Nico. “I had wanted to keep it secret,” he confessed, “because I didn’t want to confront it.”

  “What do you mean?” Nico shifted in his chair to face Martin.

  Martin nodded at the folder. “I’m not going to Wuyts.”

  Hijiri handed Nico the folder.

  Nico flipped through the pages. “Why not? Looks like a good university, at least from the pictures.”

  “My parents made me apply there,” Martin said. “Both my mom and dad went to universities far-flung from Grimbaud and they think that I need to do the same.”

  “Distance isn’t a problem. It’s not going to be easy, but we’ll work on it,” Nico said, tentatively touching the back of Martin’s hand. His voice trembled. “Just please don’t tell me we’re not worth trying, Martin.”

  Martin looked incredulous. He stared at his boyfriend, wide-eyed, and shook his head. “Is this what I’ve been making you think?”

  “Seemed like you had an expiration date on us,” Nico offered. “Doesn’t graduation do that to people? Start a new life, forget the old one.”

  Martin yanked Nico by his collar and kissed him fiercely. “Erase that from your head immediately,” he said hoarsely.

  Nico caught his breath, his face flushed.

  Hijiri hadn’t thought to look away when they had kissed. She was still confused. “If distance isn’t the problem, what is?”

  Martin ran his hands over his thighs. “My parents want me to study politics at Wuyts, become some big-city senator. They love that I’m the student government president and expect me to pursue a career in that vein.”

  “It’s the paperwork you like,” Nico said with a soft smile. “You happen to be the only teenager on this planet who relishes filling out forms and using accordion files.”

  Martin tried to smile back. “I didn’t tell my parents that I applied to Lambrechts College as well. I want to study business management. Those times I disappeared on you,” he told Nico, “I had actually scheduled a campus tour and a few appointments with Lambrechts College’s business department. It was easy to get there from Grimbaud High.”

  The neighboring town of Lambrechts was only fifteen minutes away from the western edge of Grimbaud: beyond the greenbelt, following the main road. Hijiri remembered that the twins had driven their moped there last year to buy formerly banned magazines with love charms inside for the rebellion.

  “Sly,” Nico said. “I had no idea where you were.”

  “Have you heard back from Lambrechts College?” Hijiri asked.

  Martin shook his head. “It’s still early.”

  “Are you going to show your parents the Wuyts acceptance letter?” Nico asked.

  “That’s what’s been eating away at me,” Martin said. He rubbed his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. “They’ve always been strict with me, but this is too much. I’ve tried to tell them that I don’t want to study politics. I don’t want to go to Wuyts. I’ve been arguing with my parents since July about this. I can’t go home without the pressure weighing me down. Even my sisters joined the great family debate; they like siding with my parents for kicks. They’re too young to understand.”

  Nico inched his chair closer and took his boyfriend’s hands in his. “Why couldn’t you tell me about this?”

  Martin bumped his forehead against Nico’s. “I’m selfish. I gave up, in a way. I thought if I could forget about it during the day and focus on you, then I could feel relief. And I did, for a
while.”

  “But you didn’t focus on me. You were too worried and you wouldn’t let me help you,” Nico said. “Will you let me help now? Together we can come up with a way to tell your parents about Wuyts. And when you get accepted to Lambrechts, they won’t stop you.”

  “How will we do that?” Martin said, bemused.

  “Maybe they just need to know their son a little better,” Nico said. “You could open up to them a bit more. Show them what you really love. Kind of like what you’re learning to do with me.”

  Martin grimaced. “I still need to work on that. I’m sorry.”

  “Your glasses are crooked,” Nico said, leaning forward to adjust them.

  Martin held his breath.

  “There,” Nico murmured.

  Hijiri watched their exchange with satisfaction. Nico could be quite clever when he needed to be, especially when it came to getting out of his ticket-selling duties at the booth, so she felt sure he’d be able to help Martin.

  “Say, Hijiri, you wouldn’t happen to have charms for talking to oppressive parents?” Martin asked.

  Hijiri thought of three charms right away, but she shook her head. “You don’t need charms. You can talk to them just fine yourself.”

  Nico stood up. “Then the same goes for you.”

  She raised her eyebrows. What does he mean?

  “Thank you for making us talk,” Martin said, standing too. “It must have been hard for you not to use a love charm on us, but I’m glad you respected our wishes.”

  “It wasn’t hard,” Hijiri said, flustered. “I just had to use my own … heart.” The realization startled her. My own heart. That’s right. The empathy she felt for Nico came from within her. She knew that pain, thanks to Ken, and she was able to untangle Nico and Martin’s problem by tapping into her emotions.

  When she felt particularly philosophical about charm-making, she used to think that the love charms she made had lives of their own. That the ideas came out of nowhere and she captured them in her net, making them real at her worktable. I can’t think like that anymore. I was always in control. My heart and mind desired the charms, and so I made them. I never gave myself enough credit.

  Nico and Martin held out their hands.

  Hijiri shook both of their hands and smiled. She looked back at Ken.

  He leapt from his chair, almost knocking it over. Ken’s gaze clashed with hers for a second, jolting her heart, before he left, abandoning his empty plate for the busboy to collect.

  Hijiri would be walking back to the complex alone. Again.

  * * *

  Hijiri hadn’t seen much of Ken over the weekend, though she tried to catch him around the housing complex. She knocked on his door and even waited outside of it for a while before realizing he wasn’t there. He had become Sebastian’s unofficial roommate, sleeping on his couch.

  “He just needs the company,” Sebastian said, standing in the doorway. He wouldn’t let Hijiri pass. “I’m the closest friend he has besides you, and you’re the one that broke his heart. Who else can he turn to?”

  Hijiri’s own heart stung. “Are you sure he doesn’t want to see me?”

  “Quite sure.” Sebastian sighed. “Sorry. Give him time.”

  Hijiri couldn’t break into Sebastian’s apartment to reach Ken, though she thought about it, so she turned to other pressing concerns. Bringing charms to the stakeout was critical, so Hijiri planned and made charms whenever she had the chance. She also slowly made headway on the homework she had missed while in Lejeune. Fallon came over for support. They both sat at the kitchen table, textbooks and worksheets scattered between them. Hijiri tried not to think about Ken. Or the fact that Ms. Ward hadn’t contacted her; the librarian must not have received a response from the missed connections charm yet.

  “Concentrate on your essay,” Fallon said, tapping her pencil on Hijiri’s notebook.

  Hijiri grumbled.

  “You’ll have four days to craft charms for the stakeout,” she said. “Your teachers expect their assignments turned in much earlier.”

  Having her friend there to keep her focused, Hijiri managed to work through the pile of essays, worksheets, and readings for all her classes. She’d never been a bad student, but as the semester progressed, her priorities often got shuffled around—in the wrong direction. Midterms had passed with a whisper, which meant that the finals would probably be twice as hard.

  “I can’t do anything about Ken or the competition until I find out if my charm works. I hate feeling helpless,” Hijiri said.

  Fallon made a sympathetic noise. Then she handed Hijiri a new eraser.

  * * *

  After making up a quiz she had missed in her history class, Hijiri dropped her textbook off in her locker. The halls were empty since the first bell hadn’t rung yet. She yawned and considered going back outside to stand with her friends in the shady tunnel.

  Footsteps echoed through the hallway. Ms. Ward ran, albeit wobbly, in her heels, a look of excitement and fear in her eyes. “I got my reply!”

  “Did you open the bottle?” Hijiri said, her own smile growing.

  She shook her head.

  “Do you need me there?”

  Ms. Ward looked relieved. “If you don’t mind.”

  They jogged their way up the stairs and to the library. Ms. Ward ushered Hijiri into her office and shut the door tight behind them. The librarian’s office was an extension of her home, books spilling from their shelves and a map of the world hanging behind her desk.

  Ms. Ward unlocked her desk drawer and pulled out the green bottle. Her hand hovered over the cork.

  Hijiri leaned forward.

  When Ms. Ward pulled the cork, the pop preceded glowing that bathed the room in soothing green. The image of a man formed above the neck of the bottle, flickering like film reflected on water.

  Hello, Emma, came a soft, raspy voice as his image came into focus. I’m glad to know your name at last.

  Chapter 20

  IT’S ALL IN THE CHASE

  The violinist was a thin man in all black with red sideburns and a goatee. He leaned against the shop window, playing tune after tune while his open violin case filled with coins. His name was Sid, he said, narrating just as Hijiri had hoped, as the image changed and showed him in a bright white apartment.

  I can’t return your feelings, but I’m glad you told me. I always thought we had a connection that night. I wouldn’t whistle at just any girl.

  Ms. Ward nosily searched her desk for a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes, a small smile on her lips.

  Sid showed Ms. Ward his family—his lovely brown-eyed wife and their daughter, who had taken up the drums. By the time the image faded into ghostly, glittery trails, Ms. Ward wiped her eyes with her tissue and sighed.

  “One missed connection down,” Hijiri said. “How many more did you say you had?”

  Ms. Ward laughed. “Be careful. If you tease me too much, I just may buy you out of all your charms. You won’t have any in time for the competition.”

  Hijiri thanked her. She felt like crying herself. “I have to go,” she said, almost tumbling out of her chair.

  Ms. Ward raised an eyebrow. “Trying the charm yourself?”

  “Something like that,” Hijiri said. “There’s someone I want a green bottle from.”

  Her love charm had worked! Victory was a heady feeling. It carried her through the day and gave her the energy she needed to prepare another missed-connections love charm.

  * * *

  The next morning, Hijiri knocked on Sebastian’s door. Her hands were full. The sun hadn’t even risen. No matter how thick her knee-high socks were, the high school’s uniform offered little reprieve from the cold.

  Sebastian answered the door, specks of dog hair pressed to his cheek. “My alarm didn’t even go off,” he complained.

  “Where’s Ken?”

  “Still sleeping,” he said with a tired smirk.

  “Will you let me through today?” Hijiri needed
to see him. She hoped she looked as desperate as she felt.

  Sebastian scrutinized her. Then he shrugged. “By all means, wake him up. I’m feeling jealous already that he slept through your knocking.” He leaned out of the way so she could see behind him.

  Ken was curled up on the couch, the gentle rise and fall of his chest showing that he had, in fact, slept through the noise. One hand behind his head, the other in a loose fist by his cheek.

  “Did you come to woo him?” Sebastian said, making her jump.

  “Only you would use a word like that,” she said, blushing.

  Sebastian shrugged. “You brought him a present. I’m just assuming.”

  Hijiri put the present down on the floor and perched on the armrest. If she raised her hand, she could feel his warm breath on her palm. “Some privacy, please.”

  “Not like this is my apartment or anything,” Sebastian grumbled. He said something about taking a shower and wandered back to his room.

  One way or another, she had to wake him up, even if she was worried about his reaction. Hijiri shook his shoulder.

  “I’m your alarm clock today,” she said, daring herself to say it in his ear.

  Ken groaned, his forehead scrunching.

  Hijiri leaned back quickly, almost falling off the armrest.

  He opened his eyes and yawned. His toes peeked out of the other end of the blanket when he stretched. “What are you doing here?” he asked, not quite awake yet.

  The present she’d so artfully wrapped with red ribbon and shiny paper slipped from her mind. Instead, her skin tingled at the sound of his sleep-rough voice. Ken’s hair looked as if it had been attacked by a whisk overnight; some pieces stuck up and his bangs fell messily over his eyebrows. There were pillow creases on his neck and collarbone. Hijiri sank down to sit on the couch cushion. Her heart reached for him as she leaned over the blanket and brought her lips close to his.

  Ken pushed her back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “What are you doing?” he rasped, his eyes wide.

  Her body was fire, blue flames of severe embarrassment and frustration. “You wouldn’t listen to me when I came back from Lejeune,” she said. “I still haven’t told you…”