Fallon touched her hair. Her mouth scrunched into a frown. “I don’t think so.”
Sebastian grabbed his bag and stepped past her. Once he left the shadows of the bridge, he was visible again, if only dimly. “Sorry, that must sound like an insult—a groomer cutting a princess’s hair. Well, if anyone needs grooming, it wouldn’t be you. You’ve got that down to perfection.”
She scrambled after him, unsure of how to answer. There was real hurt behind his words. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the distant streetlamp illuminated his bitter smile.
chapter 8
ASPIRATIONS
On Friday night, Fallon stayed awake long enough to finish searching through her magazines. School had been a blur of quizzes and class discussions and talk of weekend plans. She had seen Sebastian in the hallway after lunch, but, surrounded by girls, he was as unapproachable as ever. Still, she had wanted to talk to him. How unnerving.
After the episode at the bridge, Fallon and Sebastian didn’t speak. She hadn’t been angry at him for suggesting that her hair was less than stellar in its current style. Her straight hair had always been an adversary, lacking volume and thin enough for her to worry about future female-pattern baldness.
When she was eleven, her mother had taken her to a posh salon with marble rinsing stations. The stylist, named something trendy like Lexi, had given her a simple cut: a straight bob ending at the chin. No bangs. Lexi had insisted that the style best suited her brittle hair. And since it didn’t bother her, Fallon had kept it like that. While other girls at the complex worried about finding the perfect style, Fallon could walk into any nice salon and get a trim.
She’d never been dissatisfied with her haircut, but something about his sincerity made her pause. Sebastian had offered to cut her hair.
Then something worse replaced the dissatisfaction: an epiphany. “Sebastian Barringer is real,” she whispered. He was human. He had feelings behind those cold, liberally given kisses and barbed jokes. Before he became “Bastion,” he had a life.
Last night she had dreamed of his grandmother’s clinic. The ocean roared in her ears as she walked twelve dogs through the grass. Sebastian waved at her with a pair of silver scissors. When she woke up, thinking one of the dogs was licking her cheek, she found a puddle of drool on her pillow.
Saturday morning greeted her with watery sunlight and the hum of her heater. The complex was quiet, as it usually was on weekend mornings. Only the joggers and the ambitious woke up before noon. Fallon rubbed her eyes and climbed out of bed. She took a shower, standing under the water longer than necessary, and emerged from the steamy bathroom with her hair in a towel. She brushed her teeth before breakfast. The last of her eggs bubbled in the pan. She ate slowly at the kitchen table, never spilling a crumb.
Her teachers hadn’t yet assigned anything bigger than a one-page essay on how she spent her summer vacation. Fallon’s essay had taken her only an hour to write since she hadn’t done much over the summer. I visited my brother and his wife, she wrote. I shadowed my parents on a few restaurant inspections out of town.
Again, she thought of the clinic and Sebastian’s dog-grooming lessons. How did his grandmother know that he would like cutting dogs’ hair? Her parents just assumed, as they usually did, that she would follow in the family’s footsteps and become a quality-control manager of some sort. They actually hoped she would become a house inspector, since that was the last chunk of uncharted territory left.
Fallon gathered the eight magazines containing charms. She needed to tear the charms out and put them in a binder for when Femke and Mirthe asked for them. The outdoors called to her, so she put on a thick cashmere sweater and walked down to the patio. The angle of the building blocked most of the wind, so she comfortably settled in a wire chair and smoothed the bent cover of the first magazine in her lap. The first charm she tore out was the one she had tried at the student government meeting. Touching the paper gave her the shivers, knowing how close she had come to being discovered by Camille. After using a hole puncher and slipping the page through the rings, Fallon moved on to the next one.
A rustling drew her attention. She leaned to the right in her chair and saw Hijiri kneeling in front of the potted ferns in the corner. She cut the leaves off the ferns and put them in a plastic bag.
“Are you working for Mrs. Smedt now?” Fallon asked. The caretaker sometimes hired a student or two to help her do the chores.
Hijiri flinched and dropped her bag.
“Sorry,” Fallon said, standing. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s only me, Fallon.”
Hijiri’s shoulders slumped, but she still wouldn’t look up. The girl was dressed in baggy clothes and stained sneakers. Her long, oily black hair fell into her eyes and hid her face. “I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
“Then you better watch out for me. I’m an early riser,” Fallon joked. She wanted to put the girl at ease.
Hijiri cracked a smile.
“Why don’t you sit over here, next to me? I’m doing some work for the club.”
At that, the girl perked up. “I am too.”
After Hijiri pulled up another wire chair, Fallon explained what she was doing with the magazines. “I didn’t try the others, but I’m sure they’re all love charms.”
“Let me see, please.”
She handed Hijiri the magazines. “I bookmarked each one.”
Hijiri examined each charm eagerly. She sniffed the pages and rubbed her thumb over the print. Whenever she was done with each page, she nodded at Fallon before tearing out the page herself. “You’ve got good instinct. These are love charms.”
Fallon grinned at the compliment. “Thanks. How about you? What makes you so knowledgeable about the love charms?”
The girl shrunk into herself again.
“Hijiri?”
She took huge, gulping breaths before speaking, her voice just above a whisper. “I make them.”
“Charms? Like Femke and Mirthe?”
“Better.” There was no arrogance in her claim—only fear. “I’ve been making love charms since I was little.”
Fallon smothered her surprise.
“My parents noticed my talent early and wanted to enroll me in Grimbaud Middle School. But I wasn’t stupid. I knew what was going on here with Zita’s shop. No one but her is allowed to produce love charms. Even crafting charms in secret has risks, and I’m … not a brave person. I would have been content crafting my charms in my hometown rather than come here.”
But now Hijiri was in Grimbaud. A high school freshman. “Your parents won.”
“They wouldn’t listen.”
Fallon understood that perfectly. “Where’s home for you?”
“Lejeune.”
“Wow. That’s so far from here!”
“I know. Yet my charms worked. Sometimes. That’s how I managed to survive school until now,” Hijiri said, tugging at her hair.
Fallon pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to steer the conversation into dark memories. The poor girl was already huddled in the chair, trying to compress herself into nothing. “Why haven’t you told the club about your talent?”
“Grimbaud scares me. The way this town has been is not natural.”
“Zita.”
“Yes. This mysterious queen of love charms.” Hijiri rubbed her nose. “I’m supporting the rebellion because I want to see this town free again, but I can’t be a fighter. I don’t know how I’ll help.”
“What about your own love fortune?”
“It’s not surprising.”
“But it hurts.”
Hijiri ducked her head. “Making charms for others distracted me in the past. Now I have nothing to hide behind. But still, there’s something I want to make. The ultimate love charm.”
Fallon leaned closer. “What is it?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
Hijiri wiggled the bag of fern leaves. “Did you know that ferns symbolize
sincerity? That’s a powerful component to have in this love charm. Only true words and feelings can make it work.”
Fallon had never thought much about ferns. Mrs. Smedt kept the pots of ferns watered in the patio. “What kind of charm?”
“Something right out of a fairy tale. I want to make a true-love kiss.”
Fallon bit her lip.
“I told you not to laugh.”
“I’m not! It’s just … wouldn’t that be hard to do?”
“Love has called this town its home, so love charms made here are the strongest. I have a chance.” Hijiri raised her head. Her eyes, uncloaked by her hair, were startlingly dark. “True love’s kiss is a thing of stories. It doesn’t exist yet, but I want to create it in the form of a charm. If I succeed one day, it will work miracles.”
The complex stirred around them. Most students still slept, but someone’s alarm went off nearby; the walls didn’t stop such sounds from escaping into the patio. Fallon struggled to say something, anything, about Hijiri’s grand dream. Her head told her that creating such a charm was impossible. That was why magic kisses only happened in fairy tales. But her heart leaped at the idea.
“Winter break will give me time to try some ideas,” Hijiri said, drawing Fallon back. “I should make progress on the charm. I will.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.” Fallon rested her hand on Hijiri’s arm for a moment.
The girl smiled and looked down again at her feet. “Thank you for not making fun of it.”
“I can’t possibly do that,” Fallon said thickly. “A charm like that would be too precious to laugh at.”
* * *
In the afternoon, Fallon walked briskly over bridges and busy streets to the main Barnes Canal Cruises ticket booth. Tourists tended to take photographs of the peeling mermaid statue mounted on the roof of the booth. The mermaid’s beautiful face was at odds with the two hearts she squeezed in her fists; Fallon didn’t like the statue, but Nico insisted it was a relic. His parents would never take the old thing down.
Even in cold weather, the canal glistened and sunlight bounced off the hulls of the tied-up boats. Fallon spotted Nico reclining on one of the benches facing the canal, his nose buried in a newspaper. A cup of coffee cooled on the seat beside him.
“Did you secure us a boat, Captain?” she teased, dropping her bag onto the bench.
“Dad threatened to double my hours at the booth if I snuck off with one. We’ll have to share space with the tourists.”
“That’s too bad.”
Anais skipped her way over to the bench with a crinkly package of sweet rolls. “I got us a treat!”
Nico eyed the package with suspicion. The last time Anais got seasick, he was the one who had to mop up her mess on deck.
“What?” she said. “I’m hungry.”
Nico folded his newspaper. “If you take even one bite, we are not getting on a boat.”
“Come on, don’t be stingy.”
“It’s self-preservation.”
After some bickering, Anais reluctantly agreed to save the sweet rolls for later. Fallon handed Anais the stack of magazines she hadn’t used.
When she tried giving Anais money for the eight she kept, Anais just told her to treat her with dessert the next time they went out. “Knowing you, Dupree, I’d be eating something flaked with edible gold.”
“I don’t know about that,” Fallon said, laughing. Then she noticed that Anais’s hands had turned white under the strain of holding the magazines. “Are you okay?”
Anais shoved the magazines into her backpack along with the sweet rolls and groaned. “I feel like I’m carrying a family of storks on my back.”
Fallon laughed and steadied her friend when she tilted. “If Bear was here, he’d carry it for you.”
“I know.” Anais pouted. “That’s why I asked him to pick me up after the tour’s over.”
“I see. You can’t possibly return home unescorted,” Nico said.
“Bear doesn’t know where I live,” she said, huffing. “We’re going to wander the shops and have dinner. Then I’ll find some way to say good-bye before we get to the drugstore. Bear gets positively light-headed after kissing. I like to use that to my advantage.”
Nico clapped his hands over his ears. “Too much information! Let’s go.”
Fallon happily followed behind as they headed to the tour boat. The boat had an open-air deck and seating below for those who couldn’t handle too much sun. The trio headed to the back of the boat for some privacy, squeezing past tourists already leaping from seat to seat, taking pictures. In the back, the engine drowned out everything, including the rave-reviewed commentaries from the captain.
The boat pulled away from the dock. They moved at a slow pace down the canal; Fallon admired the backyards of old brick buildings and waved with the tourists whenever they spotted someone. The boat shifted when the tourists rushed to gawk at the entrance to the Tunnel of Love. The tunnel had its own loop that other boats didn’t enter. Fallon watched the happy couples climb into tiny boats, each one painted with hearts. Experiencing the Tunnel of Love is another dream I’m fighting for, she reminded herself. Her hair whipped back from her forehead, her eyelashes trembled. Autumn made the tour feel like an excursion.
The desire to talk about the rebellion stirred in her, but Fallon bit back the words in Anais’s presence. Instead, she asked Nico about his first officer meeting.
“Did you make Martin fall madly in love with you?” Anais said, elbowing him.
Nico swatted at her. “Don’t you remember my fortune?”
“Whatever. Entertain me.”
“I’m just the treasurer. My life revolves around memorizing the numbers on the bank statements so that I can tell them quickly if an idea is in or out of budget.”
“But you didn’t join for the numbers,” Anais said. “Come on. Did Martin look any different from last year? New glasses, perhaps?”
“He looks … more tired now. I think being president wears him down.”
“Then take him on a vacation,” Anais said, grinning.
Nico blushed and mumbled, “Not with Camille around.”
“Are you serious? She’s still there?”
“Camille’s the vice president,” Fallon said.
“That must be awkward.”
“Camille’s not over him,” Nico said in a pained voice. “She’s been ruthless in stealing his attention. It’s awful.”
“Martin can’t want her back.” Anais grabbed Nico by the collar. “Please tell me you’ve been listening to gossip. Does anyone know why he broke up with her?”
“No one knows for sure, but the breakup probably had something to do with Camille spending more time at Zita’s shop than with Martin.” His expression clouded. “Apparently, Camille had been told that she was ‘meant for better things.’”
“Poor guy.” Anais released his collar.
But Fallon shivered with unease. She raised her voice over the engine. “Who told Camille that?”
“Someone at work, probably. Rumor has it that Camille will be promoted to manager at Zita’s shop after graduation.”
Fallon breathed in the crisp air scented with the flavors of the town. She didn’t like this strong connection between Camille and Zita’s shop. The higher Camille climbed in the shop, the more likely she was a serious threat to the rebellion. This wasn’t just about Nico’s unrequited love anymore. As if sensing her thoughts, Nico stared out at the water in silence.
“What about you, Fallon? School’s only been in session for a week and you’re already in trouble,” Anais said.
“What?”
“You’ve been talking to Sebastian.” She said it more as an accusation than a fact. “Be careful. That boy eats hearts for breakfast!”
“It’s not like that. We just happen to be in the same club.”
“You joined a club?”
Fallon told Anais about the charm-maker’s club.
Anais raised an eye
brow. “I didn’t know you liked charms. Not enough to make them. Man, I wish my dad didn’t work me so hard. Then I could join.”
Nico panicked. “You wouldn’t want to. It’s a tiny, boring club. We don’t do anything.”
“You joined too?”
“Someone has to protect Fallon from Bastion,” he said.
Anais nodded. “Well done, Nico.”
The boat shuddered as tourists gathered on the right side to take photos of a bronze cupid statue. Fallon curled her hands around the railing. A week ago, she would have laughed along with them about Bastion. But now, she couldn’t ignore her changing opinion of him.
The truth was disappointing in some ways because disliking him had been so effortless. The dog groomer in him had been an odd surprise, along with his fierce, quiet love for his grandmother. Sebastian remained a mystery, but as she beheld pieces of the real boy underneath, she felt her own heart give. Just a little.
chapter 9
QUALITY
“Boy, you look surprised,” Robbie said with a grin.
When she heard the knock on her door Sunday morning, Fallon didn’t think she’d find her brother standing on the other side. Panic flooded her chest. Although happy to see him, she hadn’t prepared for visitors. Her dooming love fortune hung innocently on her corkboard. Fallon invited him inside but kept him standing near the door.
Since his employment as a clothing inspector, Robbie never left the house in less than quality. His mustache and slicked-back hair were perfectly oiled. He smelled of spicy aftershave when he bent down to hug her. The leather jacket and khaki slacks he wore molded to his body perfectly.
“What are you doing here?”
“Checking up on my little sister.” He looked at her strangely. “You didn’t call. I got worried.”
She’d forgotten. With everything that had happened this past week, Fallon had been lucky to remember calling her parents. “I’m sorry. School’s been taking over my brain.”
“Enough to distract you from sharing your love-fortune news with me?” He shook his head. “I have a hard time believing that, but I understand. Mom and Dad told me about the news. You’re stuck waiting, huh? How unusual.”
Love Fortunes and Other Disasters Page 8
