Love Charms and Other Catastrophes (6 page)

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it was strange all the same. Ken seemed unfazed. He was perfectly calm, lost in relishing the taste of his muffin and looking around the room. Their eyes met often. She fidgeted and kicked her feet under the table.

When they were done, Ken took the plates and cups to the sink. “Would you like me to wash up?”

“No, that's okay. You bought the food.” She paused. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Ken crossed the room and dug his own keys out of his pocket. “Will you be leaving for school soon?”

“In a few minutes.” She had to brush her teeth and toss some pens and notebooks in her bag.

*   *   *

Kentaro waited for her at the complex's gate. Most Grimbaud High boys used briefcase-style or messenger bags to lug their textbooks, but again, Ken had chosen a strange alternative: a backpack that had a strap across his chest. A bad choice, she thought, since it made him look dorky.

Hijiri nodded her thanks when he opened the gate for her. “Okay. Explain the backpack.”

“These straps help distribute weight properly,” he explained. “I figure that carrying textbooks around all day would be bad for my back. Anything helps.”

“Maybe Love should have made you stronger.” Hijiri had noticed his slight, somewhat scrawny frame from the first.

Ken shrugged. “I don't know what can and can't hurt me. Might as well be prepared.”

“You look … sturdy enough.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. A big smile. “Thanks.”

As they walked, Ken barely watched where he was going. His eyes swept the streets and rooftops, sucking in the details that made up Grimbaud. Hijiri was glad that she didn't have to make small talk, but she found herself sneaking glances at him, just to see what he was looking at. Cafés with open doors, coaxing in hungry passersby with strong coffee and flaky pastries. Children in their elementary school uniforms, holding hands with their parents or sitting in the backseats of cars, fogging the windows with their noses.

“Are we almost there?” he asked.

“One more street,” Hijiri said, her steps slowing. She wasn't looking forward to the crush of students in the hallways or the pop quizzes.

A girl riding a bicycle flew past. Ken moved closer to Hijiri to avoid getting clipped. And stayed there. The back of his hand brushed hers. “Do you have any advice,” he said quietly, “on how to make friends?”

Grimbaud High loomed before them. They both stopped, marveling at the stonework of the wings flanking the original building: a gatehouse with a tunnel running through it, marking the western edge of town. The campus had a big lawn; the old, trampled grass had been replaced over the summer, and chattering students already occupied the benches.

“Hijiri?” Ken asked.

Right. His question.

“I'm not the person to ask.” Hijiri had never been able to make friends before Grimbaud. And the friends she did have … they just happened. Like fate.

Strangely, her answer made him smile. His hand brushed hers deliberately. He found the spaces between her fingers and slipped his through, his skin warm and surprisingly comforting. But Ken was still nervous; she could tell by the way his other hand squeezed his shoulder strap.

“You don't have to be afraid,” she said impulsively. “My friends will be your friends.”

Without waiting to see his response, she tugged him forward. The usual meeting spot in the tunnel was already crowded with students eager to escape the hot sun. Hijiri squeezed through a group of confused freshmen, finally spotting her friends. Her hold on Ken's hand stayed firm. Fallon and Sebastian waved, but Femke and Mirthe barreled toward Hijiri.

“Hello, Love-thing,” Mirthe said. Without warning, she grabbed Ken's head and stared into his eyes, as if expecting to find an answer there. Then she told him to smile so she could inspect his teeth.

Femke felt Ken's pulse. “Feels real to me.”

“What are you doing?” Hijiri's voice broke. “Don't touch him!”

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Which was silly, since Hijiri wasn't going to get involved with Ken. He wasn't real and she didn't want to invest even a sliver of her heart in a very clever charm. Except perhaps to study it. Watching the twins poke and prod at Ken made her itch to do the same.

The twins dropped their hands. Mirthe pulled off the biggest pout she'd ever seen.

Ken scratched the back of his head. He wiped his mouth where Mirthe's fingers had been before and sucked in his breath. “I have a heartbeat,” he said, “and I need air to live. By the way, my name's Ken.”

“Oh, he's good,” Mirthe whispered.

“We're sorry,” Fallon said, looking as mortified as Hijiri felt. “Sebastian and I told the twins about Ken before you two got here, but we didn't think he'd be attacked.”

“You handled it well, actually,” Sebastian said to Ken. “I think you'll fit in.”

“Are you really what Fallon said?” Mirthe asked. “Love made you?”

When he tried speaking, his voice caught in his throat and he coughed into his fist. Ken looked down at his hands, staring at his palms as if he could see through them. He tried again. This time, his voice was soft but firm. “Love created me for Hijiri. I already love her. If my feelings are returned, then I suppose I've done my job. Regardless, I belong to her. It's as simple as that.”

Hijiri hadn't thought it was possible for her cheeks to burn even worse.
He just said he loved me.
The burning spread down her neck and back. If her skin hadn't turned the color of a candy apple within seconds, she'd count it as a miracle. The entire confession made her dizzy, confused, and achy. Hijiri quickly shoved his words to the back of her head, where the darkness and cobwebs were.

Her friends were equally stunned. Sebastian coughed, his own cheeks pink. Fallon had her sharp gaze on Ken, her mouth turned up in a smile. When they finally found their voices, Mirthe was predictably the one with more questions.

“So tell me,” she said, her eyes aglitter, “did Love give you superpowers?”

Hijiri sputtered.

“Why would you think that?” Ken said, interested.

Femke cut in. “Because that's how it's
done
. Love must have given you some powers to aid Hijiri in her love charm-making.”

“I don't think she needs my help with her craft,” Ken said. He broke into a boyish grin. “But there
is
something cool I can do.”

 

Chapter 4

IMPRESSING THE PRINCIPAL

Ken walked to the back of the tunnel. Hijiri's curiosity flared as she followed him. The greenbelt separating Grimbaud from the roads leading to the next town over had been overlooked during the pre-school-year cleanup. Plastic wrappers and empty bottles were scattered in the overgrowth. Ken unsnapped his chest strap and rooted around in his backpack until he found a slingshot. “Pick any target,” he said, gesturing to the litter, “and I'll hit it.”

“From here?” Sebastian asked.

Ken stood in the shade of the tunnel; the overgrowth had to be at least a hundred feet away. Bending down to pick up a pebble, he said, “Anything.”

From their distance, the bottles and wrappers were spots of color, half-obscured by the weeds and scraggly plants. Hijiri squinted. A teal-colored soda can caught her eye. “How about that one?” she asked, pointing.

Ken nodded. He notched the pebble. The muscles in his forearms quivered as he took aim. When he let go, the pebble whistled through the air and knocked into the can's already-bent middle, sending it flying.

The twins let out whoops and clapped Ken on the back.

Confident before, Ken seemed to deflate after showing off. “How'd I do?” he asked Hijiri.

“Impressive,” she nearly whispered.

He flashed a shy smile.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Sebastian asked. “I played with a slingshot as a kid, but I had terrible aim.”

Ken hesitated. He toyed with the rubber strips. “I'm decent with a bow and arrow too, but not as comfortable with them as a slingshot.”

“Makes perfect sense,” Hijiri said. He hadn't answered Sebastian's question, but how could he? He hadn't lived long enough to have practiced at a skill. Love obviously gave him some remarkable talents. “Think of the cupids. As one of Love's creations, Ken must have the same abilities.”

“I can't fly,” he admitted.

Mirthe sighed. “Now, that's a shame.”

Ken was going to give another demonstration with his slingshot when Martin came running, Nico on his heels.

“Weapons and horseplay are strictly forbidden on campus,” Martin said, every inch the student government president.

“Good morning to you too,” Sebastian said.

Martin held out his hand. “I'm going to have to confiscate your slingshot. You can have it back at the end of the day.”

“Can the president do that?” Mirthe whispered.

“Better him than an assistant principal,” Femke whispered back.

Being separated from his slingshot was not an appealing option to Ken. His eyes darted from the slingshot and back to Martin. With a sigh, he handed it over.

Hijiri placed her hand on Martin's wrist. “Ken doesn't know the rules.”

“Kentaro Oshiro, transfer student?” Martin asked. His expression relaxed. “I'm sorry, but I really can't give you back the slingshot until school's over. I'm aware of your situation. If you have any questions, don't be embarrassed to ask us.”

“Did we miss Ken's interrogation?” Nico asked cheerfully.

“We'll fill you in later,” Fallon said.

“You told Nico and Martin too?” Hijiri asked.

Fallon flashed an apologetic smile. “I thought it would be best if everyone in our club knew.”

Hijiri nodded.

The seconds scattered. Ken's eyes met hers. He was nervous all over again. She could tell because he grabbed both straps in a white-knuckled grip. He wasn't even paying attention to the twins' theories on why Love hadn't given him wings.

She wanted to tell him that he would be okay. That his slingshot would be returned. That tomorrow wouldn't be as bad as the first day. But she wasn't used to offering comfort beyond giving people love charms. “Don't worry so much,” she finally said. “You'll find a way to blend in.”

Ken's grip on his backpack straps loosened, just a little.

The bell rang. Students dispersed in different directions. Hijiri looked at her class schedule; first period would be algebra with Mr. De Pelsmaeker. Before leaving, she asked Ken if he needed help finding his class.

“I'm going to the orientation,” he said.

Fallon froze. “Don't eat the casserole.”

“Actually, you probably should,” Sebastian said. “Don't want to upset Principal Bemelmans.”

“Just be careful. Food poisoning is not fun.” Fallon cracked a smile. Punctual to a fault, she hooked her arm through Sebastian's and said good-bye to the group.

At the mention of orientation, Martin paled and searched his file folder for the latest rewrite of his speech. When he couldn't find it, he started shaking.

Ken shifted his weight. “Maybe we should get going.”

“Wait,” Hijiri said.

Nico gently took the folder from Martin and searched through each of the pockets. He found the speech toward the back, stuck against an old syllabus. “Even without this, you'll do just fine,” Nico said.

“My last speech,” Martin said wistfully.

“Yes, and it will be your best. I've got just the charm for you.” Nico wiggled his fingers and cupped Martin's face. He pressed a short but soft kiss to his boyfriend's lips.

Martin kept his eyes closed a little longer, as if hoping Nico's charm needed more time to work. He was blushing, but not as flustered as he had been when he and Nico started dating last spring.

Hijiri felt proud of the two boys. “We can go now,” she told Ken.

Ken fell into step beside her as they joined the rush of students crossing the lawn. “That wasn't a charm, was it?” Ken asked.

She shook her head. “Nico would never use a charm on Martin.”

“That's good,” Ken said.

Hijiri frowned. “Shouldn't you know a love charm when you see it?”

“Maybe Love forgot that with the wings,” he said.

*   *   *

Now that Hijiri was a sophomore, she had earned the privilege of wasting time during homeroom watching orientation from the third-floor windows. Mr. De Pelsmaeker even opened the classroom windows for them so that they could smell the casserole and excitement wafting while they peered down at the freshmen.

Freshmen orientation had been a blur for her. Tables enticed the new students to become part of the community early. Local charm-makers talked about their disciplines and interviewed for potential apprentices, should a freshman already know what type of charm-making he or she wanted to pursue. Other tables gave out information on clubs and school programs.

Hijiri tried to see if Ken had taken a piece of the principal's casserole, but he was hard to spot from that height. She thought she might have seen him at the office-experience program booth, but she couldn't be sure with students rushing from table to table. She gave up after a few minutes and found her seat. When homeroom ended, Hijiri didn't have to move since Mr. De Pelsmaeker was her first-period teacher too for algebra. Mr. De Pelsmaeker stapled the class's worksheets while reminiscing about his own freshmen orientation many years ago. His white hair was almost translucent and his vest had seen better days, but Hijiri was glad that when it came down to teaching, the man could explain exponents perfectly.

She drifted through the school day in much the same fashion as she had last year. She found seats in the back of classrooms, where she could either stare out a window or stare at inspirational posters on the dull, cream-colored walls. She took notes as each teacher discussed major projects and exam dates, but her margins were dedicated to doodles and ideas about love charms. Ken wasn't in any of her classes.