Love Charms and Other Catastrophes (5 page)

“Ignore the clothes,” Hijiri said, tapping Fallon's shoulder. “Look at the back corner. I wonder what's there. That line's so long.”

The main attraction that had caused the line was a candy station. Flashing bulbs along the top of the station beckoned customers closer for a taste of the treats inside the dispensers. Children grabbed plastic bags and scoops that were tied to each dispenser. Hijiri watched with fascination as customers scooped gummy mice, blackberry chews, miniature sugar waffles, and unsurprisingly numerous chocolate and chocolate-flavored confections.

Hijiri slowly nudged her way to the dispensers to see the sweets. She spotted what looked like chocolate-covered black licorice, each one in a tubelike shape. Bending down to read the description, she was startled to find it carried a love charm:

Sweet on the outside, bitter on the inside.
Feed this to your angry loved one and find out
why he or she's mad—helps resolve lover's
quarrels with honesty.

Forced honesty
, Hijiri thought, flinching slightly, but that was how most love charms worked. “I thought they were just candy,” she said, meeting Fallon's eyes.

Fallon threw her a panicked look and checked another one. The gummy mice. She read it once, then motioned for Hijiri to join her. It read:

Temporary heightened sense of hearing
when eaten. Use your spy ears wisely.

“For the stalker boyfriends and girlfriends in all of us,” Hijiri said dryly, her nose crinkling. “Why would people eat these? They're sure to cause trouble.”

“Why are
kids
eating them?” Fallon stressed. Her eyes flung daggers. “This is
not
okay, Hijiri. Worse than loose threads and dirty ice.”

For once, her quality-obsessed friend wasn't overreacting.

Back in Lejeune, there was an age restriction on buying certain kinds of charms. For safety's sake, love charms had been included on that list of monitored charms. While not intentionally harmful, love charms impacted a person's emotions and thoughts. Manipulating the mind and heart
too much
had consequences. A few years back, a love charm-maker in Lejeune had been arrested for selling love potions that turned the drinkers into little more than slaves—never eating, sleeping, or having a thought stray from the person they had been forced to love. Worse than the perfume Camille crafted, those love potions had been irreversible.

As far as she knew, those poor people were still suffering from the potions' effects while the crooked love charm-maker rotted in jail.

Recalling that story gave her the shivers. Hijiri knew there was a fine line between a good love charm and a bad one. That was why rules existed. Middle schoolers needed permission from their parents to buy love charms, but once reaching high school, they gained the freedom to buy and use them as they liked.

Grimbaud had not needed such rules during Zita's reign. She had closely monitored who had access to her charms. But now that the town was free, Grimbaud's police force should have been catching up with the rest of the world.

“Where's the manager?” Fallon said, raising her voice. She stomped away from the line, cupping her hands around her mouth. “I need a manager
right now
.”

A weedy man with a sour face approached. His blond hair was cut short, his forehead riddled with acne. “Sanders Lemmens,” he said, crossing his arms. “Not a manager.
Owner
.”

“You're selling charmed candy to underage children,” Fallon said loudly.

Sanders curled his lip. “Of course I am. Don't they teach the basics of supply and demand here? My
customers
want the candy, and if I don't sell it to them, they will just steal it. Shoplifting seems to be particularly prevalent in this ‘sweet' little town.”

Fallon made a strangled sound. Her cheeks flushed. “You can't get away with this.”

Sanders crossed his arms tighter but otherwise appeared unfazed. He blinked slowly. “Are you done?”

“What kind of love charm-maker are you? If you're one at all,” Hijiri said.

“My charm-making skills will speak for me once the competition begins. Feel free to join the audience. I hear Verbeke Square will be packed.”

Hijiri wanted to say she'd be there too—onstage, ready to show off her own skills—but her participation wasn't secured yet. Her jaw hurt when she clenched it. “We'll see you there,” she said as pleasantly as she could manage.

Fallon didn't bother being nice. Instead, she complained about the stickiness of the tile floor before shooting Sanders one last withering glare.

Sanders merely waved good-bye.

*   *   *

When Hijiri got back to the complex, she paused at the gate. Then she crouched and looked through the cracks in the wooden gate.
Not now, please
, she mentally groaned when she confirmed Ken was waiting for her outside her door.
I can't handle him right now. Not after everything.

“Are you hiding?” Fallon whispered.

“I don't want to talk to Ken,” Hijiri said, rubbing her face. Her head hurt and her fingers itched for therapy in the form of love charm-making. “I can't deal with him right now.”

Fallon sighed. “I'll tell him to come back later.”

Hijiri grabbed Fallon's ankle. “Not later. Tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

Fallon tucked her hair behind her ears. “Okay, then.”

Hijiri stayed in her hiding spot as Fallon closed the gate behind her and said hello to Ken. She hoped that this plan would work—she couldn't sneak into her apartment through the windows since they were locked, unless she wanted to risk Mrs. Smedt's wrath by breaking one. Which seemed ridiculous just to avoid a charm-boy.

She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she saw Ken's smile flatten and his shoulders slump when Fallon must have told him that she wasn't home … or something like that.
Whatever excuse Fallon's giving him is probably a sound one, knowing her.

After Ken left to go back upstairs, Fallon gave Hijiri a thumbs-up. All clear. “I told him you were at the library reading up on love charms,” Fallon said. “You could be there all night, so he shouldn't wait up.”

“Thank you. That sounds like me,” Hijiri said, relieved.

“Good. Get some sleep, then. School's starting tomorrow. Don't forget.”

Hijiri nodded and nearly leapt into her apartment. The day's events left her restless. Nothing but silence and charm-making could mend her frazzled thoughts now. Her fingers darted across her worktable, pinching sugar, smoothing rose petals, and drawing diagrams of the few love charms she hadn't gotten to making over the summer. Her hair fell over her shoulder, landing in the bottle of ink she had open on the table. She hadn't realized she'd been so preoccupied until her hair left black streaks on her shirt when she leaned back.

“Maybe Fallon's right,” she muttered, rubbing her thumb over the stains. Charm-making usually calmed her, but she felt like she was racing.
I want to outrun today
, she thought with a snort.
But the only way I can do that is to leave it behind. Time for bed.

*   *   *

Monday morning, Hijiri took a shower and donned her Grimbaud High uniform. If her mirror was being truthful, she somewhat resembled a human being. Good. When she heard a knock on her door, she finger-combed her bangs into place before jogging over to answer it.

Kentaro stood on the other side, holding a paper bag that smelled deliciously of lemon and blueberry.

Her stomach gurgled; she slapped a hand over it, as if it would smother the sound.

“Good morning to you too,” he said, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

Hijiri felt at least three levels of embarrassment at once. Her stomach betrayed her by growling. “You're outside my door. Again.”

“This time, not in a box,” he said cheerfully. “I bought muffins from the café a few blocks from here. The smell was incredible.”

Her stomach let out a whine of agreement.

“The muffins are bribery, if you must know,” Ken said, lowering his voice. He looked nervous. “I came here to ask … if it's okay to walk to school together.”

She felt for him. School wasn't that great, after all; as a charm-boy, he probably had no idea what he was in for. “Of course we're walking together,” she said. “Come inside. I haven't restocked the kitchen yet, but if you're okay with tap water…”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

Ken must be a morning person
, she thought with some envy. His eyes weren't crusty from sleep, and not even a whisper of a yawn touched his lips as he took in her plain apartment. He wore the standard Grimbaud High uniform: brown slacks and a white polo shirt worn underneath a brown-and-gold sweater. It took Hijiri a minute to realize he was wearing the winter uniform. In August.

“Why are you wearing that?” she asked.

“Sweater's part of the uniform.”

“Yeah, when it's actually cold out.”

“I get cold easily.”

Hijiri chewed her lip. “Could be a flaw in your design,” she said, staring at him. “Love shouldn't have missed such an important detail. I wish I had a thermometer on me.”

“My body temperature is normal,” Ken insisted, brushing past her to place the bag of muffins on the kitchen table. “I just like sweaters and being warm. I heard that high schools have frosty air-conditioning systems, despite the weather outdoors.”

“You heard?”

“Love told me.”

“So you've never been … to school?”

Ken looked almost relieved when he said, “Never.”

Hijiri wanted to slap herself.
Of course he's never been to school. He's a charm. He hasn't experienced anything besides being squished in a box.

Ken began searching the cabinets for glasses.

“I can do that,” she said, scrambling after him.

“You were in a different world just now,” he said.

“I was thinking.”

Ken raised his eyebrows. He handed her two glasses from the cabinet. They were dusty, so Hijiri took them to the sink to wash them.

He pulled a few more items from the cabinets. Then she heard the paper bag rustle behind her. The scent of muffins filled the room. Running water masked her stomach this time. Hijiri hustled to fill the glasses with water, knowing that as the seconds wore on, her hunger grew. Turning from the sink, she gasped.

Although she hadn't been at the sink long, he had managed to dress the table with whatever she had left lying around the living room. Her plastic utensils framed the plates like little soldiers. The vase of begonias she was saving for charm-making made a pretty centerpiece. He had even managed to fold the paper napkins into knots.

Ken hummed as he placed each muffin on its plate; the muffins were big enough to have to cut with a knife and fork. “Come sit down,” he said.

Hijiri slowly sat in her chair. Then she poked the folded napkin. Had Love programmed him to set tables? This was
only
breakfast. What could he do with a candlelit dinner?

“What's the matter?” Ken asked, grabbing his fork. She poked the napkin again and stared at the table. She stared hard enough to make her head hurt. “I know what this is,” she said, blinking. “You're
flirting
with me.” Ken dropped his fork, startled by her bluntness.

Hijiri frowned, even as she cut into her muffin; it was still warm, the heat drifting like smoke. The first bite melted on her tongue.

“About this,” he said, tapping the table with his fingers, “it just comes naturally. I wasn't trying to flirt…”

She huffed.

“Intentionally.”

Hijiri put her elbows on the table. “Tell me how you work.”

Ken laughed. “The same way you do. An anatomy textbook would explain everything.”

“I don't believe you. Maybe on the outside you look normal, but you're not. You're a charm.”

“What do you hope to gain by figuring me out?” Ken asked softly.

Hijiri's gaze dropped to her hands. “I want to be the best love charm-maker ever. I know I'm already on the way to achieving that dream, especially since I have contact with Love, but you're a charm I haven't made myself. Even Zita hadn't crafted anything like you, and she was the greatest love charm-maker we've had. If I could figure out how you were made, then maybe I could make a charm-boy or charm-girl too.”

“What would you do with them?”

Hijiri shrugged. “I can't think of any uses off the top of my head.”

Ken didn't try to hide the hurt in his eyes or the tightness around his mouth. “I'm useless?”

Hijiri shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I meant that you're dangerous to fall in love with. Since you're … you know … not real.”
Love wants me to fall in love with him, but there's no way I can. This will only end badly
, she thought. But he was upset, and she didn't like that. She changed her answer a little. Made it not about her. “I'd never want to put customers in such a position where they fall in love with something so transitory, but I do want to have the skills to craft something as complicated as you. That knowledge might lead me to bigger and better love charms.”

Ken shredded his napkin, then reached for another. She watched his fingers tear at the paper. How realistic each movement was. After a few minutes, he sighed and pasted a peacemaking smile on his face. “Okay, I can live with that for now.”

“I'll solve you, puzzle-boy,” Hijiri warned, taking a bite of her muffin.

“And I'll make you change your mind,” Ken said, matching her tone. “I'm irresistible. Just like these muffins.”

Hijiri snorted. “Now you're desperate.”

Ken laughed.