Love Charms and Other Catastrophes (15 page)

By the time Thursday rolled around, she felt she had stared down every exposed sliver of skin. Love hadn't left a signature where Ken's jaw met his ear. That would have been clever.

Her card catalog was supposed to arrive today, but the sky didn't think it was worth celebrating. Overcast and humid, unusual for a September day in Grimbaud. Hijiri eyed the gray clouds warily on her walk with Ken to school.

“You must hate the rain,” Ken said.

Hijiri grumbled. Her skin was damp, her hair sticking to the back of her neck.

Ken's compact umbrella fit the front pocket of his backpack. He never took it out, not once, even when the clouds breathed mist on their heads. “Are you worried about your hair? Will your face melt if you get wet?”

Hijiri let out a surprised laugh. “Those are strange questions.”

“Really?”

“Well, I don't wear makeup,” she said. “So no face-melting.” But he was a charm-boy, so maybe
his
face would melt. Somehow. Unknown charms were unpredictable.

A group of girls passed, fanning themselves with folded notebook paper. Vendors sold frozen yogurt topped with blueberries still glittering with ice crystals.

“There's something romantic about rain,” Ken said softly.

“Says the boy who claims he knows nothing about love charms.”

Ken smiled. “I think it's the eyelash dripping that does it.”

Hijiri stopped, causing a harried tourist to bump right into her. She didn't care.

Ken shoved his hands into his pockets; despite wearing a thick sweater, he seemed unbothered by the heat. “Have you ever looked at someone's eyelashes when they're caught in the rain? The beads of water that pool on their eyelashes. It's mesmerizing.”

A question burned her tongue: when, in his short life, did he stare at someone's eyelashes in the rain? Maybe Love made him watch some movies before he came to Grimbaud. She took a breath, and suddenly that question didn't seem as important. Ken's eyelashes were thin; she didn't know how they would hold droplets.
Not that I want to see it
, she thought.

Ken raised his eyebrows. “What? No questions?”

“Just this once.”

They started walking again, and Ken kept his face turned away from her. But she could still see another smile tugging at his lips.

*   *   *

Grimbaud High's air-conditioning systems broke in both wings. The rate of paper fans and folders being used grew exponentially. Teachers unlocked and opened their classroom windows, but the humidity crawling inside did little to help ease the discomfort.

After homeroom, Hijiri saw the twins being chased through the hallway by students begging them for wind charms. Mirthe jumped over a boy who had kneeled to tie his shoe. Femke stuck out her tongue and followed Mirthe around the corner.

Principal Bemelmans tried to instill some order by announcing over the loudspeaker that a repair crew was on its way. No one believed him.

“Even if the repair crew arrives, how will they fix the entire school before the day's over?” Anais said at lunch. “We'd battle one another over which wing gets fixed first. I'd have the upper hand with Bear.”

Bear tucked into his second plate of meat loaf. He looked at his girlfriend adoringly. “You could climb on my back as I throw our enemies to the ground.”

Anais loved the idea. “And I could defend you from my height!”

Fallon hid her laughter with her napkin. She was almost crying. “Look,” she said, taking a few breaths, “I don't think it'll come to that. If anything, Grimbaud High should purchase some charms from the twins' shop.”

Hijiri tugged at her blouse; it stuck to her like a second skin. She didn't have much of an appetite.

“But then again, Martin would say it isn't in the budget if they haven't done it already,” Fallon added.

Anais's fluffy blond hair clung to her flushed cheeks. She tapped her fingers on the table and drank her lukewarm bottle of water. “On a day like this, no one will be able to concentrate.”

Already, the students in the cafeteria picked at their too-warm food. Some even raided the salad bar since the greens were cooler than the meat loaf and steamy pasta.

Hijiri tried to focus on the exciting evening ahead: she'd have her card catalog around dinnertime. Spending the night putting her charm supplies away in the numerous drawers would be fantastic—but she was missing one more piece. “I need to find a table,” she said.

Fallon looked at her. “For your apartment?”

“I'll need a reliable one this time. I don't want to lose my supplies again.”

Instead of suggesting some shops, Fallon asked, “Did you tell Ken that you're looking for one?”

Hijiri blinked. “Why?”

“Seems like he knows some things about furniture,” Fallon said. “I mean, he came up with the idea of using the card catalog for your supplies. And he knew why your old table broke.”

“Anyone could know that,” Hijiri said. Just because she didn't know, it didn't mean Ken was some kind of secret furniture genius.

“Maybe you're right.” Fallon folded her used napkin. “But you should ask him anyway. I'm sure he wants to spend more time with you.”

“I want more time with my charms.”

“Charms can't hold conversations.” Fallon held up her hand. “
Unless
we're talking about a boy made of charms. In which case, you should be talking to Ken all the time.”

Hijiri thought she was spending enough time with Ken as it was. But she knew that look on her friend's face so she sighed and said, “Fine. I'll ask him about the table.”

*   *   *

With no repairs and the temperature rising, Hijiri suffered through her classes as best she could. She lost the desire to pay attention in her literature class, even though her teacher forced them to read from the textbook. Ink came off on her fingers when she turned the pages.

She grew sleepy. The words swam on the page. Hijiri was close to closing her eyes and letting the heat snuggle her into a nap when rain slammed against the classroom door.

Hijiri sat straight up, puzzled. Why was it raining inside?

Her fellow students didn't share her confusion. All they saw was relief. Bursting out of their chairs and leaving their textbooks behind, the teens ran into the hallway. Hijiri stood in the doorway with her teacher, observing the chaos in the hall. Puddles had already started forming. Students splashed and opened their mouths as the rain poured in. Sweet respite from the pressing heat. Hijiri looked up and saw thin, snakelike clouds crawling along the ceiling, releasing rain with factory precision.

“The twins,” Hijiri whispered. Then she ran into the rain.

The rain wasn't just cold. It was chilling. Her teeth chattered from the shock of it as she dashed through clumps of soaked students and teachers. Everyone smiled, laughed, screeched. But she was looking for someone in particular.

Her class had been on the second floor, but she knew that Ken was taking biology at the same time on the third floor. Once she reached the staircase, she fought against the tide of students on the stairs and climbed, anticipation drumming through her bones. Her bangs stuck to her forehead as she ran, blinking back water and calling Ken's name over the sound of the rain.

Ken was in the middle of the hallway, his hair sticking up in tufts and his sweater hanging heavy and wet. He was looking up at the charmed clouds, entranced.

And completely unaware that the De Keysers were sneaking up on him.

Femke gestured sharply at Mirthe, warning her off, but Mirthe deliberately ignored her sister. Mirthe withdrew a bottle from her bag. It had a cork in it, plugging up what looked like fierce winds.

Hijiri's heart stopped.

When Mirthe uncorked the bottle, she flew backward as the wind came charging out. Right at Ken.

She couldn't warn him, not loud enough. Never loud enough. The winds hit the clouds and mixed badly, spiraling rain through the hall and slamming into lockers and students alike. Hijiri covered her eyes and sank to the floor. The rain lashed at her face. She heard Femke yelling at her sister, felt the murky heat of fog pour along the floor. Then she forced herself to get up and find Ken.

He was lying on his side in the middle of the hallway. His knees were curled to his chest.

Her heart tumbled out of its box and flopped around somewhere near her stomach. She was by his side in seconds, her hands hovering over his face. She checked the back of his head for bumps or bruising. Then smoothed back his hair.
Now's your chance
, a little voice inside her head whispered.
Lift his shirt up. Check his heart.

Ken's eyes fluttered open. He caught her wrist just as she was about to tug his sweater up. “Hijiri?” he croaked.

Disappointment and relief rubbed together inside her chest. The twins had failed badly. What were they thinking? “You're okay?” she asked, her voice trembling in the cold.

“Looks like I fell,” Ken said, sitting up on his elbows.

Hijiri hovered above him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Ken's eyes narrowed. A small smile tugged at his lips. He stared at her with such warmth. “Look at that,” he said softly. “Your eyelashes are catching water. It's beautiful.”

Her cheeks did that burning thing again. “Are you listening to me?”

Principal Bemelmans turned the corner with three teachers. He had kept relatively dry with a twisted umbrella in his grip. “Standard evacuation,” he yelled. “Head toward the nearest exit.”

One of the teachers opened a window, letting the wind out.

“Hey, don't do that!” Mirthe said. “That wind's worth a lot of money. You can't just—”

Femke slapped her own forehead and grimaced.

“The De Keysers,” Principal Bemelmans said dryly. “You couldn't help disturbing the school with your charms, could you? I thought we were doing so well, too.”

“This was an exception,” Mirthe argued. “The AC was broken. That's human suffering. Femke and I were just cooling everyone off.”

“And possibly damaging property in the lockers,” he said, “as well as releasing hurricane winds. Which, I'm sure, has nothing to do with lowering body temperatures. You two follow me to my office. We're going to call your parents.”

“Oh no,” Mirthe groaned.

“You won't be allowed to stay after school for the rest of the year,” he told the twins. “That means you'll need to hold your charm theory club meetings elsewhere.”

Femke gasped.

“Why?” Mirthe asked.

“I don't relish the possibility of further damage to school property.”

Hijiri got to her feet, then helped pull Ken up with her. As much as she felt for the twins and for the club, speaking up would only endanger her participation in the love charm competition. Plus, Principal Bemelmans wasn't wrong. The twins went overboard this time. She knew it wasn't about Ken.
Far from it
, she thought, watching the twins scowl at each other as the teachers escorted them out of the hall.

After much debate, Principal Bemelmans decided to send Grimbaud High's students home. Forcing damp, sweaty students to spend two more hours in school felt cruel to both teachers and students alike. The hallways needed mopping up, at any rate.

Hijiri grabbed Ken by the back of his sweater. “Where are you going?”

“We don't walk home together,” he said.

Hijiri didn't let go. “We don't usually get released early either.”

“Aren't you getting your card catalog today?”

“Kentaro!”

His eyes crinkled when he laughed. He glanced up at the sky and said, “Looks like rain.”

Halfway back to the complex, a light drizzle rained down on the town. Hijiri didn't care anymore about getting wet. The wooden gate creaked when Ken opened it. They were so close to their apartments now that she didn't feel the need to rush.

Ken stopped at the staircase. “Will you come upstairs?” he asked.

“Your apartment?” Hijiri stared at the staircase as if the steps had holes.

“Come on,” he said. “There's nothing to be afraid of.”

“I'm not scared of an apartment,” she said, frowning.

Ken laughed again, though she didn't see what was so funny. “No, you shouldn't be. I would never have designed it that way.”

His strange words made her feet move. She followed him up the stairs. She passed Fallon's apartment and turned the corner, finding a few apartments nestled away. When Ken unlocked the door, Hijiri felt a wave of peace wash over her. The tension in her shoulders eased. She took off her shoes and looked around.

His apartment shared the same plain walls and wood floors as the others in the complex, but he had somehow made it cozy and personalized. A plush, dark green rug covered most of the living area; Hijiri felt the softness through her damp socks. The couch pillows had been fluffed, perhaps even washed, because they looked like new. He had a desk with cubbyholes and a tea canister holding his pens and pencils. The semester's major dates and flyers from around town had been tacked on his corkboard.

She stopped in front of a canvas photograph taken from one of Grimbaud's bridges. The black-and-white photo showed the gentle swell of canal water and a tour boat cutting through it—one of the Barneses' boats, to be precise. Hijiri felt a prickling at her elbows. The water began to move in the photograph. She smelled the dampness of the canal and heard the faint sounds of cameras flashing from the boat.

“Come see my bedroom,” he said.

Hijiri frowned, but she didn't object when he gently tugged her hand. On the way, she noticed that the kitchen was the least decorated. Still, he had used colorful plaid tape to frame each cabinet. The tape continued in his bedroom; he had used it to frame his small bookshelf. His bedroom was a boyish green-and-brown plaid.