Love Charms and Other Catastrophes (14 page)

Hijiri shoved through the crowd to the very front, just in time to see Ryker grab two tin contraptions from his battered suitcase: a tin angel and a tin devil, hollow-looking and small. The angel was an unfriendly, solemn thing with dull eyes. The devil's long face and pointy whiskers glinted. Neither could stand up since their feet had been engineered into clips. “Can anyone tell me what these are?” Ryker asked.

“They sit on your shoulders,” Hijiri said without thinking. “Angel and devil, both sides of a person's conscience. How is that a love charm?”

Ryker's electric-blue eyes widened behind his glasses. “Should I tell you? You might be here to steal Heartwrench's ideas.”

Hijiri's skin burned when she felt everyone's eyes on her. “Not my intention,” she said through gritted teeth. “But if you're so worried, maybe you better put them away.”

Ken squeezed her hand again.

Ryker laughed. “Just a joke, Hijiri.”

“Then please continue.”

Ryker clipped the angel to his left shoulder, then the devil on his right shoulder. The clips were strong enough to keep the angel and devil upright, like parakeets sitting on either shoulder. They sprang to life. The angel's wings flapped. The devil whipped his tail back and forth. “My uncle and I created this love charm for people who need help in making smarter decisions in their dating lives. They give you two choices, but you must learn to listen to the right one. Let me show you how it works.”

Ryker stroked his chin. “I wonder what I should do,” he said, “with the pretty young girl here. Should I kiss Hijiri?”

Hijiri paled. What was he saying?

The devil had a deep, cackling tin voice.
“Go for it. She'll be swooning in your arms in no time.”

The angel crossed its arms, its tinny voice high and frantic.
“Don't you dare! She's underage! Step away from the girl now.”

“Uncle Gage was thinking of installing a small electrical jolt in the angel,” he said, laughing, unclipping them both, “just in case someone actually listened to the devil.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Hijiri said.

“I agree. I had to talk him out of trying.” Ryker sighed. “He thinks that we should enter these in the competition, but they're not ready yet. I wouldn't know how to market them. They're more like nagging tin toys than the valuable resources we hoped for.”

“How did you make them talk?” she asked. The voices were off, but the angel's and devil's sentences had formed naturally.

“Too many all-nighters with recordings of talk shows,” he confessed. He rubbed his eyes as if the memory fatigued him. “We were able to load them with magazine advice too. They only have room for advice regarding love, of course.”

A few onlookers jumped in too, asking him questions. Some even asked if they could touch the creepy tin charms. Ryker showed a curious girl the back of the tin angel, explaining that he loaded the data through wiring underneath the angel's tin robe.

“We're going to be late,” Ken said, reminding her that they had been on their way to school only moments before.

Hijiri nodded, but her mind turned. The image of Ryker opening the back of the tin angel stuck with her. If she had wanted to know how Heartwrench's charm worked and had a head for mechanics, she would only have to pry the back open and look inside.

Unlike electronic devices, charms didn't have obvious openings. But if a seasoned charm-maker knew where to look, some charms could be unraveled by finding a kind of keyhole or crack in the crafting. Sometimes charm-makers even left behind signatures, marking each charm as their own creations.

Kentaro Oshiro was sophisticated. Love had to have woven hundreds of charms to make him, interlaced and endlessly functioning with each blink and breath from the boy.
Maybe there's an opening on Ken. Some kind of keyhole for me to peer through, to see the charms that make him tick. If not a keyhole, than a signature. Love's proud enough to have left one.

Her heart bumped against the cage of her ribs, both scared and excited by the prospect.

*   *   *

Mrs. Smedt had left Hijiri her first odd job of the semester: trimming the potted plants on the patio. She stopped by the aging caretaker's house to pick up the key to the shed and share a cup of bitter tea. Hijiri had worked for her last year, but it wasn't a steady job. The Student Housing Complex required very little upkeep since the inside of each apartment was the responsibility of the student staying there. Raking leaves in the fall. Pruning. Making sure the wooden gate wasn't creaking. Hijiri had never found the jobs hard; they usually gave her mental space to brainstorm and ponder over her latest charm experiments while exercising her body.

When she got home from school on Tuesday, Hijiri unlocked the shed to retrieve the pruning shears. She clipped dead leaves while students sat on the patio, chatting about their classes.

How can I see Ken without his clothes?
she thought, her cheeks reddening. No matter how she phrased it in her head, her skin reacted badly. It felt shame for her, perhaps, in thinking about divesting a boy of his clothing.
Another girl might want to peel the clothes off the boy she loved, but my intentions are purely scientific.

Her heart had other ideas.

The minute she examined her heart, trying to follow Fallon's directions, the tiny, beating thing overwhelmed her with images of Ken: Ken with his shirt unbuttoned, his ankles bare, his forearms seeing Grimbaud's sunshine for the first time. And with the images came an unsettling realization.

She was torn between wanting to look for the signature and wanting to … just touch his skin.

It's not funny
, she thought, mentally scolding her heart.
Cut it out, now!
Her hand slipped. She clipped a perfectly healthy branch by accident.

The options were grim. Maybe she could find ways to get him to take off his socks, or even his sweater if she turned up the thermostat in her apartment. But getting flashes and glimpses of his skin would take a long time. She didn't think she had the patience.

“Hijiri,” Fallon said, carrying textbooks in the crook of her arm. “Are you busy?”

Hijiri welcomed the distraction. “Almost done here.”

“Have you been … handling not being able to craft love charms okay?”

“I've been distracted,” she said, thinking of Ken, “and haven't been sleeping well. Thursday's too far away.”

“Well, I have an idea.” Fallon smiled brightly. “How about you and I do something fun in town? I know a place you can work out your frustrations.”

“I don't need a punching bag,” Hijiri said. Maybe she did.

Fallon shook her head. “You'll see. Ready in an hour?”

Hijiri's curiosity flared. She couldn't wait to see what her friend had in mind.

*   *   *

“Only two?” the woman at the counter asked, her eyes flickering between Hijiri and Fallon. “Do you have a couple's discount coupon?”

“Oh no, we're just friends,” Fallon said.

“Right this way.”

Crafty Cupids was a favorite Grimbaud destination for those easily amused by glue sticks and paint splatters. The back of the store had numerous tables occupied by fidgety children and anxious parents. Balloons pressing against the ceiling tickled the tops of people's heads with their strings.

“Consider this room your craft haven,” the woman said, gesturing to the rows of plates, mugs, cute animals, and cupids lining the walls, just waiting to be painted and covered unceremoniously with glitter. “Nothing is off-limits. But remember that the bigger the item you're painting, the higher the price.”

“So what do you think?” Fallon asked, wandering over to the shelves.

“You're wearing the wrong outfit for this place,” Hijiri said. “If you think your skirt is going to survive this place unstained, you're naive.”

Fallon only laughed. Then she leaned close to whisper, “The truth is that I bought the shirt and skirt when I was out with Sebastian last week.
Off the sale rack.
The second button on the skirt was even missing.”

Hijiri snorted. “No way.”

“I'm trying,” Fallon said, shuddering. “What are you going to paint?”

Hijiri considered the choices. Choosing a plate or mug would help fill her empty kitchen cabinets, but the cupids drew her attention in the end. She chose one with little wings, one dimpled cheek creased with the beginning of a mischievous grin.

She and Fallon took a corner table away from the giggling children and party hats. Fallon neatly squeezed different paint colors in her dish, each one safely separate from mixing with the others, and started to paint her mug right away.

Hijiri opened the drawers underneath the shelves; they were stuffed with supplies she would have considered using for her own charms. Seeing the fake gemstones, stickers, felt, and neon pipe cleaners brought back the itch to craft love charms. She took a deep breath. “Have fun,” she ordered herself under her breath.
Don't think about charm-making.

Hijiri dipped a fat brush in sparkling gold paint, tickling under the cupid's armpits and rubbing the bristles across its belly.

“Did you try what I suggested? Listening to your heart?”

Hijiri poked the cupid in the eye with gold paint.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said, dunking her brush in the paint. “I did try. A little.”

Fallon's expression turned serious. “What happened?”

“It's not easy,” Hijiri blurted. “My heart does strange things. It doesn't want to stay put. It likes to dance and send feelings shooting up and down my spine.”

“When Ken's around?”

Hijiri rubbed her chin. “Yes.”

Fallon's mouth twitched. “What do you think your heart's saying?”

“I don't know. It confuses me too much.”

“Try harder,” Fallon said. “Promise me.”

“Other people's hearts are so much simpler,” Hijiri mumbled.

“It does seem that way, doesn't it?” Fallon said lightly.

“Regardless of what my heart's doing, the fact remains that Ken must be solved,” Hijiri said, eager to change the subject, however slight. “I've come up with a new plan.” She told Fallon about keyholes and signatures, and how she needed to find ways to search Ken for such signs. Weakness. A way to see what he was made of.

Fallon painted the lip of her mug with neat strokes. “Hmm.”

“It's a good plan, right?”

“It'll be tricky.” Fallon covered her mouth with her hand. “I just can't see you trying to rip his clothes off.”

Hijiri's face was a burning coal. “I'd never!”

“Then where do you think Love would leave a signature on Ken?”

“It could be anywhere.”

“Maybe … maybe it's in the most obvious spot,” Fallon said.

Hijiri gasped. “His heart.”

“When Zita's charm activated, it spread over Sebastian's heart,” Fallon said quietly. Physical proof of the attack on his life with each swirling cursive letter of his love fortune written into his skin.

The heart would be key. It was as much Love's symbol as the storks and cupids. If Love left anything behind on Ken, it would have to be there.

 

Chapter 10

WATERWORKS

Hijiri's Crafty Cupids creation gained a few additions after it had been sealed and fired in the kiln. She had wrapped neon pink and blue pipe cleaners around the neck as a scarf. Gold tinsel glued down like hair gel for added dimension to the cupid's curls. And a felt heart, cut as tiny as Hijiri could manage with her scissors, glued on its chest.

“Hello, tiny heart,” she whispered. In a way, she felt like she was speaking to her own heart.

When Hijiri returned home, she placed the cupid on her kitchen table with the wilting begonias, realizing that the cupid was probably the most striking feature now inhabiting her dull apartment.

Then she called the twins and told them about her plan to get Ken's shirt off.

“You're letting us help?” Mirthe said.

“You offered,” Hijiri reminded her. Besides, Fallon had been right: she'd have a difficult time managing the feat on her own, especially when the idea alone made her turn cherry red.

Femke must have pried the phone out of her twin's hand. “Mirthe and I need time to form a mutual plan.…”

“Why wait?” Mirthe said, tugging back. “We're not going to agree. I'll show you how much better
my
weather charms are, Femke. Your fog and clouds won't get Ken to take off his shirt. I'll use much stronger charms.”

“Where are you going to get those?” Femke asked testily.

“I have my ways.”

“Ways that Mom and Dad wouldn't approve of, no doubt.”

“Don't worry, Hijiri. Ken will be naked from the waist up before you even blink!”

Hijiri listened to the
beep-beep-beep
of the call being dropped before realizing that the twins were already gone. She opened her fridge and pressed the orange juice carton to her burning skin.

*   *   *

Wednesday was a small victory. Hijiri managed to make it through the school day without fidgeting too much, but her heart throbbed when she walked between classes wondering if she'd see one of the twins' plans in action. Mirthe gave her a thumbs-up in the hall between Hijiri's algebra and literature classes.

Hijiri returned the gesture, puzzled.

Meanwhile, she did her best to examine snatches of Ken's skin that she
could
see.

The curve of his neck, sticking out of his bulky sweater.

His unremarkable wrists.

The backs of his ears. Hijiri had never noticed that his ears were naturally pink. It wasn't a blush.