Love Charms and Other Catastrophes (2 page)

Years of abuse from weather charms showed. Cracked windows. Leaking gutters. A sliver of roof partially exposed. The twins said they couldn't keep up with the repairs. Femke and Mirthe had spent their summer paying their parents back for using potent (and expensive) weather charms against Zita. They had even traveled with their mother to replenish their collection of earthquake tremors—dangerous business. Hijiri didn't envy them, except that she loved the feel of the De Keysers' property. The air was electric—charged and thick with a history of used weather charms. After passing the broken sundial, she heard the sound of laughter coming from behind the house.

Grass turned to sand. The sun intensified the blue of the ocean, dazzling Hijiri as much as the cool, salty air.

“You made it,” Femke said, jogging across the sand to meet her. Mirthe was bent over a table, making sure the waves wouldn't carry it away.

Femke and Mirthe were twins, but they didn't look alike. Dark, coiling hair and nut-brown skin were their only matching features, so their continuing attempts at looking identical occasionally bordered on comical. Today, they both wore tan shorts, long-sleeved turtlenecks, and silver octopus necklaces. But their hair, Hijiri noticed, didn't match at all.

Femke's hair was pulled back in a tight bun, while Mirthe's tumbled wildly down her back. Hijiri was so surprised that she missed Femke's question.

“Did you bring something?” Femke asked again, eyeing the bag in Hijiri's hands.

“I stopped for some cookies,” Hijiri said, handing Femke the bag. Luckily cafés were plentiful in Grimbaud. The cookies were still hot, the chocolate chips gooey.

Mirthe was at their sides in seconds, her brown eyes hungry. “Are you trying to torture me? They smell heavenly.”

“Dessert,” Femke warned her.

Mirthe rolled her eyes and took the cookies to the table.

Femke watched her sister go. Her green eyes slid back to Hijiri. “Happy to be back?”

Hijiri took a deep breath. Let it out. “Surprisingly, yes. This party is quite a welcome.”

“What are friends for?”

Hijiri bit back a smile.
Friends.
No matter how many times they used the word, it still gave her the tingles. Someone called her name. When Hijiri turned around, she saw Fallon Dupree emerge from the house with a steaming dish in her mitted hands.

“Do you need help?” Hijiri asked, because she wanted an excuse to talk to Fallon, who, in all probability, was the closest person she'd ever had to a best friend.

“Sebastian's watching the stew on the stove,” Fallon said, grunting as she shifted the dish in her arms, “but sure. Help would be nice. Without me, none of us would be eating.”

Mirthe laughed. “Well, without decorations, we wouldn't be having much of a party either.”

After Fallon put the dish of honey-roasted endives and parsnips on the table, Hijiri followed her into the house. Despite not having seen her all summer, Hijiri thought Fallon looked the same as always. Her hair was cut in a straight bob ending at her chin, its plainness balanced by Fallon's hawklike gaze and neat appearance. That gaze turned on Hijiri as they reached the steps. “Your bangs look like they need a touch-up,” Fallon said.

Hijiri blew at her bangs, but they fell right back into her eyes. “Think Sebastian can take care of it?”

“He's been carrying his shears everywhere since getting a job at the groomer's.”

“What about for humans?”

“Don't worry. He's fully prepared for any hair emergency.”

The De Keysers' house smelled like burning wood and clean laundry. There were little disasters here and there—a broken vase, a pile of pillows knocked off a couch—no doubt caused by the family's habit of using weather charms indoors. The kitchen was in the darkest part of the house. Three big hanging lamps threw spotlights on the counters and island. And on the boy stirring a pot of savory fish stew.

When Sebastian looked up, Hijiri didn't miss the quick smile that spread on Fallon's face. Previously known as Grimbaud High's resident heartbreaker, Sebastian Barringer still had his charmingly disheveled look. The slant of his dark eyebrows made him look irritated or bored (as did his attitude at times), but underneath, he was a kind person. Hijiri didn't have to try to sense their love for each other. It was quiet but strong.

“Hijiri needs a trim,” Fallon said.

“You know, most high schoolers get their hair cut
before
the new school year,” he teased.

“Ah. But you're a Hijiri Kitamura hair specialist. I couldn't possibly trust the stylists back home,” Hijiri said.

Sebastian laughed. “It's a good thing I can cut both dogs and humans.”

Fallon peeked at the stew. She looked pleased. “Almost ready. Good job.”

Sebastian asked Hijiri to stand under one of the lamps so that he could see her bangs better. He wore a leather hip holster for his scissors and comb. Strangely enough, it didn't look weird. While he snipped, he told her about the job. Three nights a week, he would work at a groomer close to the Student Housing Complex. The work would consist of him sweeping up after the other groomers, and maybe even shampooing a dog once in a while, but he was happy to start. He measured her bangs between his fingers and carefully snipped while Fallon took the pot off the burner.

“Just one more,” he whispered, finding a stray hair that had been tickling her eye. “There. You're ready for school.”

“Thanks.” She shook her head, relieved when her bangs stayed out of her eyelashes.

“Bring out the stew,” Mirthe shouted from the back door. “Nico and Martin are here! We can start the party!”

Sebastian volunteered to carry the pot outside, but Fallon hovered beside him, her fingers twitching as if she expected him to drop it before reaching the table. The stew pot
was
heavy. Sebastian gritted his teeth and tried to take bigger steps.

Hijiri carried the bowls out. She ran ahead, eager to see the last members of their rebellion again.

Nico was in the middle of dumping a massive amount of twice-baked fries on one of the serving platters. Martin took the lid off the sauce container and drizzled mayonnaise over the fries; they must have bought half the vendor's supply in sauce and fries before coming here. The smell made Hijiri's mouth water.

When Nico spotted her, he opened his arms for a hug. Hijiri obliged, albeit stiffly, her chin bumping against his shoulder. He was tan and smelled damp like canal water, the brown hair on his head burned almost blond by the sun. She had never expected to become good friends with Nico, but helping him when Martin fell under the spell of Camille's love charm had solidified a bond between them. Like Fallon, Nico had stayed in touch with her over the summer with occasional phone calls.

“No more bank statements this year,” Hijiri said, remembering their last phone call. Nico had moved up in student government from treasurer to vice president, a role he was happy to take on since it meant spending more time with Martin.

“I know,” he said. “Do you think I can handle being vice president?”

Hijiri shrugged, smiling. “Ask your boyfriend.”

Nico brightened. “He believes in me.”

Martin Pauwels hung back, fiddling with the mayonnaise container. He looked healthier than the last time she saw him; his pale skin had some color to it, and his glasses were smudge-free. He took his job as student government president seriously; he even showed up to the party in his casual uniform: khakis and a polo shirt embroidered with the school logo.

“If he does more than the last vice president, he'll be perfect,” Martin said, putting the cap back on the empty container. “Nicolas promised that I would be spending less time on paperwork this year.”

“He still isn't using your nickname,” Hijiri whispered.

“I don't mind,” Nico whispered back. “Whenever he says my name, it
feels
like a nickname.”

Martin sat in one of the chairs and pulled a bundle of papers out of his back pocket. He smoothed the creases and muttered something about a fifth draft.

Nico leaned on the back of Martin's chair. “Put that speech away. We're at a party,” he said softly.

“I'm not happy with it,” Martin said.

“The freshmen are going to be bored and overexcited at orientation anyway. You don't have to put in so much effort.”

“But it's my last speech.” Martin put the papers away and sighed. “Being a senior feels … so final. It's all going to be over soon.”

Worry flashed in Nico's eyes, but he squeezed the back of Martin's chair and said nothing.

Hijiri fidgeted. She was about to speak when the twins asked everyone to come to the table. She grabbed the nearest chair, facing the ocean, while Fallon and Nico sat on either side of her. The twins sat on opposite ends of the table, raising their goblets of raspberry lemonade like queens.

“A toast to the rebellion,” Femke said.

Everyone lifted their goblets.

“A rebellion without a cause,” Sebastian added, “now that Zita is gone.”

“But we still have our friendships,” Fallon said.

“And bravery,” Nico said, smiling at Martin.

“And a new mission,” Mirthe said. All eyes locked on her. “Later. Let's enjoy the food.”

Hijiri filled her bowl to the top with fish stew. She ate quietly, listening to everyone talk about their plans for the semester. The stew was thick with carp, carrots, onions, and potatoes, seasoned with bay leaves and sage. The richness warmed her inside and out. Sand swirled at her ankles, stirred by the breeze. The party was delightfully caught between hot and cold. Maybe it was that dreamlike juxtaposition that made Hijiri anxious for the punch line—what new adventure could the twins reveal?

“Do we have something to worry about?” Hijiri said into her bowl.

Femke dipped a fry into the mayonnaise and chewed thoughtfully. “What, indeed?”

Hijiri's head snapped up. She hadn't realized she had spoken aloud.

Mirthe's eyes twinkled. “The town needs us again. So we're going to enter the love charm competition.”

Hijiri's stomach twisted. “What competition?”

“News has been spreading locally since last month,” Nico said, his brow furrowing. “Grimbaud hasn't done well since losing Zita. A love charm revival just isn't happening yet, and the town council is concerned that the lack of, well,
love
in Grimbaud will turn tourists off.”

“So the council came up with a love charm-making competition to inspire town spirit,” Mirthe said. “The three love charm-makers that moved here over the summer will be participating … but they're
outsiders
, guys. None of them should win. Someone homegrown, with true affection for this town, needs to win.”

Hijiri regretted not keeping up with Grimbaud news over the summer. She stirred her soup but didn't feel like eating anymore. All eyes fell on her. She started to sweat. “Why are you looking at me? This isn't my hometown.”

“You're the best we've got,” Mirthe said firmly. “And you love Grimbaud, right? Your charm-making skills are already indisputable. Winning will be easy. The other love charm-makers don't stand a chance.”

“You won't be alone,” Fallon said softly.

“We're entering as a team, just like the shops did,” Femke said.

“We'll use our standing as a club to enter the competition. Principal Bemelmans will have to approve it first, but I'm sure we can convince him,” Mirthe said.

“So long as Fallon waits in the hallway,” Sebastian said wryly. “He's probably still sensitive about her refusing to eat his famous casserole last year.”

Fallon crossed her arms but agreed.

Martin wiped his mouth on a napkin and said that he could get them a meeting with the principal on Monday.

Hijiri felt the world spinning out from under her feet. Her friends spoke faster than normal, more buzzing than words, and her stomach imitated the roll of the ocean. The idea of being in a competition—onstage, in front of hundreds of people—made her want to hop on the first train back to Lejeune. But underneath that, the challenge of crafting the best love charms she could was enticing.

This could be the year I make my mark as a great love charm-maker
, said a little voice in her head.
Are you watching, Love?

Hijiri put down her spoon and twisted the tablecloth in her hands. When she looked up, she tried to sound braver than she felt. “Okay. Let's do it.”

*   *   *

By the time the party ended, the sun hung low in the sky. The pink of a blooming sunset crept on the edges of the horizon. Sebastian and Fallon walked ahead of her, holding hands, while Hijiri wrestled with her thoughts. During the group hug that ensued after Hijiri had agreed to join the competition, her hairband had snapped. Without the weather charm's breeze, her long, ink-black hair stuck to her spine.

“We'll check out the competition tomorrow, okay?” Fallon said as they reached the wooden gate of the complex. “You'll feel better when we see them. I'm curious about these new love charm-makers too.”

Hijiri nodded and wished her and Sebastian good night. She couldn't imagine sleeping.

She fished her key out of her pocket—and nearly bumped into a giant present sitting outside her apartment door. The present was a cardboard box wrapped in iridescent white paper with a red ribbon around it.

What was it doing there? Who did it belong to? It couldn't possibly be for her. Her parents didn't surprise her with gifts. She hadn't ordered any new charm-making supplies either. Despite that, the box was perfectly lined up with Hijiri's door. And when she checked again, leaning in close, she saw her name printed on a tag hanging from the ribbon.

“Are you Hijiri Kitamura?” said a muffled voice from inside the box.