Love Charms and Other Catastrophes (9 page)

“These three men know nothing about Sofie, but they trust us when we say that she could be the perfect girl—for one of them. Which man? Our love charm-makers must help Sofie do the choosing,” Bram said. “But not with their charms.”

Hijiri thought she heard him wrong. Wasn't this a love charm-making competition? Why wouldn't they be tested by
making charms
?

Bram held up an index finger. “Each love charm-maker gets one question. Sofie will ask her eligible suitors these questions to find out which of them she'd like to go on a date with. So they better be good questions. Think hard.” Bram paused and caught Hijiri's eye. “And use your teammates.”

Hijiri felt a pinch of relief. She was still part of a team, even if she was the only love charm-maker in the club. Working with her friends was completely within the rules. They had entered as a club, after all.

After Bram handed each of the charm-makers a card to write their questions on, Hijiri left the stage to join the Grimbaud High's charm theory club already in a huddle. Ken and Nico broke apart to let her in.

Bram looked at his watch. “You have five minutes.”

Hijiri felt the seconds start to crawl across her skin. Away.

“This shouldn't be hard,” Mirthe insisted. “Just have her ask what their favorite colors are. Or favorite animals!”

“Not important enough,” Sebastian said. “We're not playing a trivia game.”

“It's harder than it seems,” Femke said.

Fallon agreed. “Sofie only has their answers to work with. What matters most to her? What does she need to know about them?”

Luckily for Sofie, she had four questions to ask. Hijiri wanted to have the strongest one. She looked at the men sitting in their chairs. Guy #1 was stout, with a shaved head and gold-rimmed glasses. The chair bent under his weight. Guy #2 rested his fist on his chin, one leg crossed and bobbing at the ankle. Unlike the other two, Guy #3's ginger beard hid his mouth, but that didn't stop him from talking to the crowd. Detective Archambault climbed onto the stage, her hand on Guy #3's shoulder. He quieted immediately.

“Can you tell anything about them?” Ken asked.

Hijiri shook her head. “Not enough. We don't even know their names.”

“Then Sofie is the important one,” he said.

Hijiri's eyes widened. They knew her profession and how involved she was with art by the way she dressed and held herself. Even now, Sofie waited by running her finger over her dress in patterns.

“Will you look at that? Heartwrench turned in its question first,” Bram said, holding up a teal card.

Ryker high-fived his uncle.

Detective Archambault plucked the card from Bram and inspected it. Smelled it. Closed one eye and turned it upside down in her hands.

“Why did she smell the card?” Fallon asked, more to herself than anyone.

“Does it matter right now? I have the question,” Hijiri said, shoving the card at her. “Can you write it down? You have better handwriting.”

Fallon blinked and took the card, uncapping the pen Sebastian handed her.

“You weren't entirely wrong when you suggested a favorites question,” Hijiri said, looking at Mirthe. “But we can do better. Something more pointed, situational.”

“Don't keep us in suspense,” Nico said. “We have to approve it before time runs out.”

“Our solemn duty as your fellow club members,” Martin said.

Clea and Mandy ran to Bram next with their pink card. Sanders elbowed his way through the crowd. Instead of giving his orange card to Bram, he handed it straight to Detective Archambault. Both cards got the same inspection from the detective.

Hijiri lowered her voice to a whisper. When everyone leaned their heads into the circle, close enough to brush one another's foreheads, she told them the question.

Mirthe said it sounded too long. Femke argued that it wasn't long enough. Nico thought it was fine since it fit Sofie's passion. Martin wondered what would happen if one of the men couldn't come up with an answer.

“That's simple,” Ken said. “It would mean he isn't the one for Sofie.”

Fallon held the pencil over the card, her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for the outcome. “Ready?”

Hijiri said the question again, this time a little sharper, a little different, and the club approved. After Fallon finished the dot on the question mark, Hijiri ran as fast as she could as Bram counted down the last seconds. Detective Archambault plucked the purple card out of Hijiri's fingers just in time.

The charm theory club exploded into cheers. Hijiri looked back at them and smiled, pushing her hair away from her face.

“Everyone's in,” Bram said, waving the cards. “Get ready, Grimbaud. After all the questions are asked, you must cast your vote for the question you believe was the best. See the bowl of red marbles? Take one marble only and drop it into the jar with the color that matches the index cards.” Bram held up the purple one. “If you liked the purple question, put your marble in the purple jar. Simple as that.”

Hijiri's stomach twisted. No wonder Bram hadn't talked about the voting right away. She couldn't look at the people around her—the crowd, the voters—so she kept her eyes glued to Sofie. The young woman was nervous too; she shuffled the colored cards until they fell out of order.

“First question from the pink card,” Sofie said, her voice loud against Bram's microphone.

“Pink,” Bram echoed. Then he pointed at Clea and Mandy to remind the audience which shop the color belonged to, for anyone who had daydreamed when the colored cards had been passed out. Metamorphosis's card.

“What is your favorite part of your morning beauty routine?” Sofie asked.

Sebastian snorted. A few surprised bursts of laughter followed after, but Clea and Mandy remained untroubled. In fact, Clea's smug expression showed she was confident that their question was excellent.
Maybe she always asks her clients that
, Hijiri thought.

A trickle of sweat ran down Guy #1's face.

Bram was thoroughly amused. “Well, what do you have to say, men? Be honest.”

“I don't have a routine,” Guy #1 admitted. “Waking up is hard enough.”

Sofie nodded vigorously, even though neither could see the other.

Guy #2 said he loved seeing his clothes laid out on his bedside chair from the night before. Being prepared like that, especially when he hit the snooze button a few times, made him feel confident about facing a new day.

“Hair gel,” Guy #3 said, stroking his beard. “But never on the beard. My friends have been trying to get me to buy a beard grooming kit, but I refuse. The natural look is the best. It's my pride and joy.”

Sofie scrunched her nose. She played with the corner of her card.

Bram shook his head and walked the length of the stage, saying, “I'm with Number One on this question. But you know, there
might
be something romantic about brushing your teeth in the morning.”

Fallon frowned and whispered, “Of course there is. Personal hygiene.”

Sebastian wrapped his arm around her waist and hugged her close.

“Second question is from the orange card,” Sofie said, holding up the card.

That one belongs to Love For All.
Hijiri leaned forward, eager to hear what sort of question Sanders had come up with.

“Bitter or sweet?” Sofie said.

“That's it?” Bram said, looking over Sofie's shoulder to read the card. “So it is. Well, then. Interpret as you like.”

Sanders's expression hadn't wavered from smugness. He crossed his arms.

Guy #1 was quick with his answer. “Anything that's sweet. Especially with marshmallows. When I was a kid, I used to get in trouble for building snowmen out of them.”

Guy #2 must have taken that story as a challenge, because he said, “I'm the same way with spinach.”

“You made snowmen out of spinach?” Bram asked.

Guy #2 sighed heavily. “My brothers were horrible at the dinner table, so I used to make them laugh by taping spinach to my lip. A spinach mustache. But I secretly loved the bitter taste. My mother never served it with salad dressing.”

When Guy #3 got the mic, he said, “Sour.”

Hijiri shifted her weight. Listening to the other questions going first was difficult. When Heartwrench's card was raised, her stomach twisted again. Last. They were going last.

“Hey,” Ken said, his face suddenly in front of hers. “Deep breaths.”

“I'm not nervous,” she mumbled.

“Deep breaths,” he repeated.

Hijiri followed his directions. Inhale. Exhale. One after the other. The anxious twisting in her stomach shrank. “I'm not … This isn't about my charms.”

The more she thought about it, the sicker she felt. The absurd challenge wasn't a true showcase of her skills.
Just let me have five more minutes
, she thought,
and a few words and fern leaves and—

Ken brushed his knuckle against her chin. It was a ghostlike touch, but enough to send a shiver through her body. “This is a test of instinct,” he told her. “It's something you already possess. You don't need a charm to show how good you are.”

Hijiri's thoughts frayed. Instincts? Was that true?

Sofie looked at the teal index card. Her brow furrowed when she read the question, but she eventually said it out loud. “How did you get over your last heartbreak?”

Ryker and Gage shared a proud look with each other, but the mood in the square changed. This was a more serious, private question. None of the men answered for some time; Hijiri couldn't blame them for hesitating.

Guy #3 asked for the mic. “I've never had my heart broken,” he insisted, though his voice caught. “My ex-girlfriend left me because I refused to shave off my beard. Not that it bothered me to lose her, mind you. My love for my beard runs deeper. She just couldn't accept me for who I am.”

“Time,” Guy #2 said. “If it's long enough since the breakup, your heart will heal. Mine did.”

“Does it ever heal?” Guy #1 asked. “Really? I don't believe that. We can move on, but the scars will always be there.”

“That's a depressing attitude,” Guy #2 said.

“It's a lot less depressing with ice cream,” he replied with a smile.

Bram cut them off before the discussion could turn into a debate. “Why don't we see what the last question asks,” he said. “Sofie, the honors?”

“This is it,” Mirthe hissed.

Ken grabbed Hijiri's left hand, while Fallon grabbed her right hand.

Sofie gratefully lifted the purple card. Her eyebrows rose when her eyes scanned the question. A small smile touched her lips. Then she asked, “If you were in a museum, which exhibit would you go see first and why?”

Hijiri exhaled loudly. This was it. Her question.

Guy #2 brightened. He uncrossed his legs. “Anything contemporary, so that I have the chance to meet the artists.”

Guy #3 said he found museums to be boring.

When Bram asked Guy #1 for his answer, the man took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on crooked. “Some people like the traveling exhibits because they're new and temporary. But me, I like the permanent displays. I can't choose which type of art I like best, except that seeing the same paintings and sculptures each time is like saying hello to old friends.”

Hijiri drew a sharp breath.

Sofie blushed, smiling, and the patchwork on her skirt was safe from her picking for the first time that morning.

We could win this
, Hijiri thought.

 

Chapter 6

INSTINCT

Bram asked the townspeople to vote for their favorite question while Sofie pondered her big decision. The crowd was the sea, ebbing and flowing its way around the table with the marbles. Detective Archambault stalked the stage, her eyes moving so quickly over the crowd that it was dizzying to watch.

After a few minutes, the voting trickled to an end. Sofie left her chair and hugged the mic to her chest. With a small, bashful voice, she said, “I'd like to go on a date … with Guy Number One.”

Guy #1 blushed straight to his ears, a look of utter shock on his round face. His glasses slipped down his nose as he struggled out of his chair.

Before he could see her, Bram stepped in the way. “Lucky Number One, why don't you tell us your name?”

“Lars,” he said, breathless.

“Lars,” Bram repeated, smiling. He stepped back and pushed the wall out of the way. “Meet Sofie.”

A glint of light caught Hijiri's eye. She looked up, spotting a stone cupid perched on the upper floor of a lace shop, its arrow aimed at Sofie's back. Then another glint—from a different stone cupid whose arrow lined up with Lars. Both arrows were painted gold.
Have I seen them before?
Hijiri wondered, while the crowd sighed. Grimbaud had too many stone cupids to keep track of, especially since they'd been put back after Zita's defeat.

“Look at the cupids,” Hijiri said, grabbing Ken's forearm.

Ken looked from where her hand squeezed his arm to the cupids. “You know,” he said, “it's possible that Love is still watching us, inventory or not.”

“I thought of that.”

“It's comforting, right?”

Not with the game Love was playing with her.

Sofie held out her charcoal-stained hands. Lars took them. They stared into each other's eyes before breaking apart, blushing and grinning as the townspeople clapped.

The other two men shrugged off their losses. They shook hands with Sofie and Lars and left the stage.

“Love,” Bram said dryly.

Hijiri and her friends inched closer to the stage when Bram started counting the marbles. Detective Archambault conducted the second count, just to make sure the accountant-by-day-and-radio-host-by-night didn't mess up.