Love Fortunes and Other Disasters

by Kimberly Karalius

The inside of the villa was pitiful. The smell of heavy cologne and garbage saturated the living room and kitchen. Crumbs caught between couch cushions. A laundry pile spilled out of the bedroom. They followed the man down to the basement.

  “Have a seat,” he said reluctantly, gesturing to the two chairs opposite his across the table.

  As Fallon sat, she noticed a door she hadn’t seen from her angle at the window. It was a white door peppered with juvenile stickers proclaiming KEEP OUT and CAUTION: GENIUS AT WORK.

  “That’s my studio,” the man explained, catching her eye. “No matter how much you offer, you won’t see the inside of it. I can’t believe the newspaper sent two kids to find me. They have no morals.”

  “We’re not from the paper,” Fallon said. “Our intention isn’t to reveal your secret identity.”

  “But if we didn’t threaten you, you wouldn’t have let us in,” Sebastian said.

  The man agreed with that. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Well, you do kind of look like someone named Hard-boiled Hal,” Fallon said, trying to be kind. The cheeky T-shirt certainly fit the radio show host’s personality, but she had expected someone more comely.

  “Your voice,” Sebastian said, crossing his arms. “It’s distinctive. You can’t completely hide it.”

  “So what do you want from me?” he said.

  “Your name, for starters,” Sebastian said.

  “Bram De Groote, accountant,” he said, “at your service.”

  “I hope so. We’re in need of allies. The way you speak about love on your radio show makes us believe that you could be receptive to our plans,” Fallon said.

  Sebastian added, “Basically, we’re part of a group that’s going to stop Zita.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “No more love fortunes,” she said. “And if Zita does have power over us, we’re going to end it.”

  Bram slumped back in his chair, stroking his beard. “You’re playing me.”

  “This is a serious situation. Our lives are at stake,” Fallon said, angered by Bram’s skepticism.

  “I understand. You’ve been dealt a rotten hand,” Bram said. “All the men here have, but we deal with it in different ways. That’s what adults do.”

  “By having a radio show that promotes grossness and bad manners?” Fallon replied. “We may not be the adults here, but I think we have a better understanding of what’s going on in this town.”

  “Other towns don’t operate the way Grimbaud does. They don’t let one person dictate how they choose to love,” Sebastian said.

  “We do it because Zita’s always right.” Bram slammed his fist down on the table. “My distaste for her and everything she represents is obvious. I created this show to spite her, but it’s a useless hobby. I’m not making a difference, nor do I expect to. Destined couples marry each year and new spinsters and bachelors move into the villas. The cycle continues.”

  His bitterness was overwhelming. As cool and unaffected as Hard-boiled Hal was, his real-life counterpart, Bram, suffered from the same rotten feelings that many people felt in Grimbaud. Like them, he wouldn’t do anything to change the situation. “What happened to you?” she asked.

  “The last fortune I got before I found out I was a bachelor was during my sophomore year,” he said sourly. “It said, ‘an embarrassing rejection awaits you.’ My friends constantly teased me about it. My mother warned me against actually following through with my plans to confess to the girl I loved, but I couldn’t hold back. I had to share my feelings with Emma.” Bram took a deep, shuddering breath. “The entire school was witness to my confession. They barely held back their laughter as I poured my heart out. Emma was reading a book on one of the benches. When she looked up, it was only to ask me if I would stand a little to the left to block the sun for her. She hadn’t heard a word I said.”

  Fallon pressed her hands in her lap. “Do you mean Emma Ward?”

  “That’s the one.” Bram flashed a careless smile. “She’s a spinster now.”

  “Didn’t you try again?” Sebastian asked.

  “Of course not,” he said. “The entire school was in hysterics. The administration even held the bell so that everyone could compose themselves for homeroom.”

  “You can put your past behind you,” Sebastian said, trying one last time. “If you’ve ever wanted to change—”

  Bram raised his hand. “Stop now. You know that nothing ever changes in this town. I’m sorry you misread me. My alter ego tends to be much more charming than the real man. You’ll have to leave now. I must prepare for tonight’s show.”

  Fallon stood up so fast that the chair almost toppled. Her frustration and anger toward Bram was palpable; she wished that she could shake him until he saw reason. She stopped at the bottom of the basement stairs.

  “You know,” she said, pinning Bram with her eyes, “Ms. Ward suffered too. She’s been hurt more than you ever have, but least she’s gutsier than you.”

  She didn’t wait to see his reaction.

  * * *

  Fallon hugged her arms during the walk back to the complex, gathering comfort from the large, geometric sweater. Tonight, she lost her temper for the first time in a while. Her skin felt hot, her heart beating loudly as the last of her anger lingered. How could she just sit there and watch their chance at gaining an ally fail? How could she let Bram De Groote imply that Ms. Ward had hurt him on purpose, the one scar he carried while Ms. Ward bore so many?

  “Your language must always be quality,” her father had always said, giving her and Robbie extra grammar lessons as children. “No dirty words. Keep your sentences short and clear.” She usually tried her best to follow those rules, but right now she wanted to curse and rant.

  Sebastian seemed affected by the night’s events too. He watched her carefully as they crossed a cobblestone bridge and jumped over puddles. “The club’s going to be disappointed when they find out that Hard-boiled Hal is a dud,” he said.

  “I’m glad we tracked him down,” she said. “We found out sooner rather than later that he won’t help.”

  Sebastian tapped his ears. “I’m glad my keen sense of hearing saved the day.”

  “It’s pretty amazing.”

  “Is that a compliment from the princess?” Sebastian said, grinning. They were only a block away from the complex, but he stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “Is that so unusual?” Fallon tried to walk past him, but he stepped in front of her. They stood so close, she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

  “Sometimes I think you really mean it,” he said with some concern.

  Fallon shrugged.

  Sebastian’s cold fingers touched her chin. He bumped his nose against hers, his mouth so close. “This wasn’t the most romantic night,” he whispered.

  Her heart did a strange dance in her chest. Her hand, holding the shopping bag with her soggy clothes, went numb.

  This was a tease. He’d never gone so far as this, tempting a princess with a knave’s kiss. But she was no princess—she was the resourceful lady’s maid. She knew that he didn’t expect her to give in. Sebastian waited for her to push him away or say something prudish that would make him laugh. But Fallon felt that this was a night of changes. She decided to say something of quality.

  “You’ve got a cold kiss,” she whispered back. “I want a real one.”

  chapter 16

  WELCOME LOVE

  Observation, not experience, had taught Fallon that it would be dangerous to place her heart in Sebastian’s hands. She’d buried any attraction she felt for Sebastian and chose to hate him instead. Hate him for the parade of girls he dated. Hate him for holding their hands, kissing them in the shadows, and sharing nothing of himself.

  So what was she doing, saying something like that? Wasn’t she just the next girl in line, pressing her heart into his palms for safekeeping? The old Fallon, having been pushed into a smaller and smaller space behind her ribs, snarled.
The new Fallon knew this was neither stupidity nor weakness. No matter how illogical, this was how she really felt. Her vulnerable heart awaited judgment.

  She nudged his nose with hers. “Well?”

  Sebastian flinched. “You’re not serious.”

  “You keep questioning my sincerity,” Fallon said.

  He stepped away from her, taking his warmth with him. “You know how I work. I date casually.”

  Fallon placed her shopping bag on the ground. “I’m familiar with your policy. Doesn’t it get tiring? One of these days, a girl’s going to enter your life who you won’t want to let go of. I’m not saying that I’m that girl, but maybe I could be.”

  Sebastian backed up a few more steps, a look of panic on his face. “You weren’t supposed to say this to me.”

  Fallon dug her fingers into her sweater. Her tongue felt heavy, but she forced herself to speak. “I see,” she whispered. “I guess I failed you. I should have maintained my role as a prudish Fallon Dupree: the princess who would no sooner open a bag of manufactured cookies than ever have feelings for you.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I thought you were that strong.”

  “It’s not a matter of being strong,” she said. “You’re just too lovable.”

  Sebastian tried to rebuild his wall of boredom. He crossed his arms, dropped his shoulders, and turned slightly away from her. “Stop,” he said.

  If Fallon concentrated, she bet she could hear both their hearts cracking to pieces. Her mouth kept moving. “The real question is whether you’re capable of giving me a cold kiss. Could you press your lips to mine without caring? Somehow, I don’t believe you could.”

  Sebastian’s face crumbled. “Stay away from me,” he said brokenly. “I know we weren’t actually dating, but this is as good as breaking up. Good-bye.”

  Before she could move, Sebastian ran. She watched him disappear down the street. Her body felt cold, so very cold, and nothing she could have worn would have stopped the shivers from spreading through her veins. She swallowed thickly, picked up her shopping bag, and counted the houses until she made it to the student housing complex.

  * * *

  Despite the dry clothing that Sebastian had bought her, Fallon woke up on Sunday morning with a stuffy nose. She blew hard enough into her tissue to pop her ears.

  To be fair, this was her fault. She had been the one to insist they find Hard-boiled Hal last night. She’d also been too miserable to take a hot shower when she got home, so the cold that had been kept at bay slipped its way inside her.

  Tangled in her sheets, with bluebirds singing outside her window, Fallon crumpled her tissue and cried.

  * * *

  Plagued with congestion and a sore throat, Fallon stayed home on Monday and Tuesday. Doing homework made her dizzy and she could only clean the apartment in short spurts before her muscles complained of too much exertion. Mostly, she napped on the couch.

  Whenever someone knocked on her door, she woke with a start, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. Could Sebastian be on the other side? She’d make her way to the door gingerly, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a shield. But usually Nico was there with her missed homework. He’d gotten permission from his parents to work later hours at the booth in order to help her.

  “Your apartment is still immaculate,” Nico said, gawking.

  “There are no excuses for a dusty home,” Fallon said, quoting her mother. She reclaimed her nest of sheets and pillows on the couch and allowed Nico to make her some hot tea. “What happened at school?”

  “The twins are dying for you to get better,” he said, filling the teakettle with water. “They want to know if you’ve made progress on finding Hard-boiled Hal.”

  Fallon would have thought that Sebastian had told them by now. Even though the next club meeting wasn’t until Thursday, a story like that would be hard to keep secret. “Didn’t Sebastian tell you?”

  “He’s been avoiding us.”

  Fallon sat up, alarmed. “Are you sure?”

  “When has Bastion ever been hard to find?” Nico said, turning on the stove. “Now, we’re lucky if we see him in the halls. He even ignored the twins when they said hello to him this morning. Mirthe threatened to plant a hurricane charm in his locker, but Sebastian just kept walking as if she wasn’t there.”

  She blew her nose, trying to fight a headache.

  After leaving the water to boil, Nico joined her on the couch and searched her face. “Does this have anything to do with you, Fallon?”

  She wanted to lie, but tears bubbled up instead. “Oh, Nico.”

  “We’re friends, right? You can tell me what’s bothering you.”

  Rehashing Saturday night started off easily. She glossed over Hal, deciding to save the details for the club. By the time she got to her request for a real kiss, Fallon was crying again. Nothing dramatic, but even the smallest of tears made it hard for her to breathe.

  Ignoring the pile of tissues between them, Nico hugged her. He smelled of canal water and sunshine. “Of course you love him,” he crooned. “I’m sorry for it. Your fortune is unforgiving.”

  “You’re not surprised?”

  “I had my suspicions,” Nico said with a grin. “I doubt you would have spent so much time with a boy you actually hated, Fallon Dupree.”

  She tried to laugh with him, but it came out as a pitiful sob. “Do you think he likes me back?”

  Nico handed her a fresh tissue. “Maybe. Why else would he have said those things to you?”

  * * *

  Fallon felt well enough to return to school on Wednesday. When she got dressed in the bathroom, she found that the skin over her heart was red and aggravated. She must have been scratching it in her sleep. November breathed frost on the stone walls and patches of grass.

  She didn’t know how to act when she saw Sebastian again. Was she supposed to smile? Say hello? Call him by his nickname, accompanied by a slew of curse words? Most girls did the last one.

  As it turned out, Fallon didn’t need to worry; Sebastian made the choice for her. She didn’t see him at all on Wednesday, even though she searched the hallways between classes and stayed behind after school. On her way to history class on Thursday, Sebastian brushed her shoulder. She tried to grab him, but he slid through the students, his legs carrying him far away from her. He didn’t come to the charm-making club either, much to the twins’ annoyance.

  “We can’t lose a rebel,” Mirthe whined. “Sebastian might be spreading all our secrets at this very moment. Why didn’t you think of this, Femke?”

  Femke tapped on the jar of pig’s eyeballs and shrugged.

  Nico said, “Maybe he’s just taking a break.”

  “We don’t have time for breaks! This is a rebellion!” Mirthe wrung her hands. “Okay, how about phase two? Please tell me that we’ve made progress on that.”

  Hijiri had nothing to report. Fallon assumed as much, since she’d caught Hijiri wandering the complex, snipping specimens for her own secret love charms. Dulling the effects of Camille’s charm on Martin preoccupied Nico these days, so he hadn’t found allies either. Plus, he thought that asking a sympathetic tourist for help felt wrong; this was Grimbaud’s problem, and needed to be solved by Grimbaud alone.

  “You guys need to work harder,” Mirthe said. “Femke and I can’t advance phase two because we’re prepping phase three. It’s more complicated than we anticipated.”

  Nico frowned. “What’s phase three?”

  “We can’t tell you until phase two is over.”

  “We’re getting nowhere,” he groaned.

  Fallon told the club about Hard-boiled Hal’s silencing charm and juvenile decorating. Despite Mirthe’s prodding for details, she spoke dryly. The story wasn’t as exciting without Sebastian there to share the telling. “No matter how much we argued, Bram remained stubborn. He’s not on our side.”

  “All is not lost,” Femke said quietly. She consulted her notebook. “Fallon’s still mad
e contact with the spinsters.”

  Fallon nodded. “Ms. Ward seems eager to help me.”

  Mirthe snapped her fingers. “Then take her up on the offer. Ask for a tour of the Spinster Villas.”

  “Why?”

  “If you spend time with Ms. Ward, she might give in and join us. She could even recruit the other spinsters.”

  “We’re not going to storm Zita’s shop with an army of angry spinsters and bachelors, are we?”

  “They don’t have the guts to follow us where we’re going,” Mirthe said. “The important part is that we have more spies. More information. People to turn to on the night when we finally face Zita and change Grimbaud.”

  “We’re counting on you, Fallon,” Femke said.

  The pressure only added to her worries.

  * * *

  Ms. Ward sent Fallon on an errand to deliver a note to the front office regarding a request for new books. Encyclopedias A through K had fallen apart, their spines nothing more than strings and dried glue.

  Fallon absorbed the quiet locked in the halls as she walked. Each classroom was a fishbowl of bored students. Outside, a gym class was being held on the basketball court. In order to reach the main office, she had to walk along the lawn between buildings. Students ran drills, dribbling basketballs up and down the court. Sebastian was third in line, resting his hands on his knees as he waited. His gym clothes were dark with sweat. The gym teacher’s whistle blew, startling him. Even though Fallon had suffered a cold, Sebastian looked worse. His lips were chapped, his skin wane. His eyelashes kept fluttering as if he was desperate for sleep.

  The gym teacher tossed the ball at Sebastian. Sebastian caught it with his face.

  The class erupted in laughter as the ball bounced away. Sebastian cradled his cheek, already letting his eyelids droop again, as the gym teacher blew his whistle like an alarm. He grabbed Sebastian by the back of his shirt and ordered him to sit out for the rest of class. Sebastian sank down against the chain-link fence, unaffected by the lingering snickers.

  Fallon played with the edges of the note, unsure. Another girl would have laughed at the heartless boy, but she was nervous. Something wasn’t right. Sebastian should have been happy that he’d ended things with her.