Love Fortunes and Other Disasters

by Kimberly Karalius

  Any anxiety she felt transformed into frustration. The break-in shouldn’t have eclipsed the removal of Love’s statue. Whose side are you on? Fallon thought, staring at the townspeople she passed. The scent of roses was overwhelming.

  In Verbeke Square, the pink-lemonade storefront looked no worse for the intrusion. Two brawny officers guarded the front door, while another kept an eye on the love-fortune machine. The lace shops opened their doors, unperturbed by the ruckus caused by the break-in, while the cafés reluctantly fed their customers.

  Fallon inspected the area, searching for anything that resembled an entrance into the sewers, but spotted Martin instead. “Hello, Mr. President,” she said, jogging to catch up to him.

  “Fallon Dupree,” he said slowly.

  “That’s me.”

  Martin smiled slightly.

  “Are you really by yourself?” she asked.

  “Running errands.” He lifted his bag, revealing random items from a hairbrush to an ear of corn. “My parents thought I needed the fresh air. I would have been sleeping otherwise.”

  “Do you typically sleep in on the weekends?”

  He shook his head. As the early riser in his family, he usually spent his weekend mornings getting student government work done and taking care of his little sisters. “But now, my sisters are the ones poking and prodding me in the mornings. I’ve been feeling drained lately.”

  Fallon worried about Martin’s health. His constant exposure to Camille’s charm could be doing permanent damage. She wished she knew more about charms, like Hijiri and the twins. She felt helpless.

  “I see you’re school-supply shopping,” Martin said.

  Fallon nodded. Even though Martin still looked unwell, his eyes were clear. He didn’t slur his words. That was a good sign. “I came to see Zita’s shop too. That break-in has shaken the town up, hasn’t it?”

  “Everyone’s talking about it,” he said politely.

  Fallon bit her lip. “What do you think the thieves were after?”

  Martin smiled. “Just a few charms were stolen, so that leads me to believe it was a dare. Kids do that sort of thing all the time.”

  Glancing at Zita’s shop once more, Fallon sucked in her breath. The question poured out of her mouth before she could think. “What was your fortune this year?”

  Martin raised his eyebrows.

  “Sorry. Was that too personal?”

  “It’s just … no one ever asks me. I guess being the president means that I don’t appear very human. No one needs to be concerned about me.”

  Nico’s very concerned about you, she wanted to say, but she closed her mouth.

  “I don’t carry it with me,” he said, “not that I need to. It’s easy to remember. My fortune said that someone from my past would be coming back into my life.”

  Fallon stopped walking.

  “It couldn’t be more obvious,” Martin said balefully. “Camille’s the one in the fortune. I broke up with her over the summer and she became a piece of my past. Her elbowing her way back into my life for the new school year seems on cue. I honestly don’t know anyone else who could fit the fortune. I’ve lived here all my life. My past is my present.”

  “You don’t?” she almost whispered. “You can’t think of anyone?”

  “What’s the matter?” Martin looked over his shoulder, confused.

  Fallon’s heart bellowed and her hands shook with a realization that left her dizzy. Maybe this is what Marion had meant when she said that poetry was twisted. The words either contained multiple meanings or meant something else entirely. And the fortune didn’t take into account the one person that Martin wouldn’t remember. “Do you have time?” she said too loudly. “Can you come with me?”

  Martin’s eyebrows just about launched themselves into his hairline. “Where to?”

  “We’re going to see Nicolas,” she said, taking firm hold of his hand. “He’s got something to say to you.”

  * * *

  Fallon couldn’t reach the Barnes Canal Cruises ticket booth fast enough. Part of this had to do with her excitement, and the other with Martin’s lack of endurance. He could tear through an entire stack of student government paperwork in a day, but he wasn’t good at running. Martin’s face flushed red and sweat trickled down his cheeks despite the snow. But by the time they reached the canal, he looked more awake than usual.

  Another tour boat had just launched, full of eager tourists and fidgety children. The engine roared steadily as it pulled away. The mermaid statue on the roof of the booth looked especially fierce in winter, crushing the two hearts in her hands.

  Nico wasn’t manning the booth. Fallon thought that he might have left on the last cruise, until she saw him tying up a boat. He wore a windbreaker sprayed with canal water. His hair stood stiffly in the wind.

  “Okay,” she said, turning to Martin. “I lied about the talking thing. Nicolas does have something to tell you, but you’re going to have to overhear him talking to me about it. Because I don’t think he’s brave enough to tell you personally yet.”

  “As student government president, I should be setting an example for the student body,” Martin said, frowning. “I can’t possibly eavesdrop.”

  “You’re going to want to hear this. I promise.”

  Martin squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “Okay.”

  Fallon ushered him over to the boiled peanuts cart that had been left unoccupied on a lunch break. Martin hid behind the cart, which happened to be within hearing distance from Nico’s favorite bench.

  She ran over to Nico. “Hey, I’m back!”

  “Bet Glastonberry wasn’t as exciting as here,” Nico said, giving the rope one more tug.

  “You’re right. It wasn’t,” she said. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure.” Nico knocked on the ticket booth and asked for a refill on his cup of coffee; in the winter, his parents installed a coffeemaker next to the cash register. They took a seat on the bench.

  Fallon casually looked over her shoulder. Martin’s plastic bag stuck out from behind the cart; she saw his breath join the steam from the boiled peanuts and knew he was still there. “I need a happy story, Nico.”

  Nico laughed dryly. “Why would you come to me for that?”

  “Because you have one, don’t you? I think it’s the perfect time to tell me again.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. “There’s no ending to it yet.”

  “You could be writing it right now. Come on. Indulge me.”

  Nico’s cheeks pinked as he settled back into the bench. “My father allowed me to work on the Sunday night cruise when I turned ten. Grimbaud Elementary had booked the cruise for its own Welcome Love celebration that night. The entire school had been invited. Dad wouldn’t let me enjoy the party with my friends. Instead, I spent the evening helping parents and students find their assigned tables on the lower deck for dinner.

  “When night fell, the kids ran around on the upper deck while the parents and teachers lingered at the tables. I remember having a hard time seeing that night; the houses didn’t have as many lights on and some of the streetlamps flickered and went out. Maybe it was too much sugar or excitement from the cruise, but the kids started fooling around. Pushing each other. Shouting.

  “And there was this boy, Martin Pauwels. He was a year older than me. I recognized him from the posterboards at school; he was an honors student and the school liked to boast about him in its newsletters. A couple of kids had circled him, making fun of his crooked glasses and perfect grades. He didn’t stand a chance when they put their hands on him.”

  When someone pushed Martin just hard enough to knock him overboard, kids became frightened and started shouting and crying for their mothers. Nico knew his father couldn’t stop the boat in time, and the inky waters looked deeper than usual, as if they could swallow a person whole. “So I climbed over the railing and dived,” he said.

  The water was January-cold; it climbed up his nose and burned his lungs.
He swam back toward the spot where he’d seen Martin fall and sank underneath the water, his hands out, blindly searching. He found a coat, then a wrist, and wrapped his arms around Martin, kicking toward the surface. The older boy had lost his glasses in the water. His eyes were closed. Nico kicked for the bank and hauled them both ashore.

  “Dad was inching the boat as close as he could to the bank,” Nico said, “and shouted for me to check Martin’s pulse. I couldn’t feel it.”

  But Nico had been trained in giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. As a Barnes, he’d grown up practicing on a dummy. He panicked for a heartbeat, but pulled himself together and tilted Martin’s head back. “I wasn’t supposed to feel anything when I pressed my mouth against his,” he said, “but it’s not like I could help it.” Each time he returned to give Martin more air, his lips tingled and his cheeks grew hot. He almost missed it when Martin started breathing again, but he quickly pushed his own confusing feelings aside long enough for the paramedics to arrive.

  “He was okay,” Nico said, blinking back tears. “I saw him breathing and coughing up the canal water. But he didn’t open his eyes. When I went to school the following week, he didn’t seem to recognize me. Maybe his parents didn’t tell him, but I discovered that I couldn’t either. Whenever I tried, my stomach twisted and I started shaking.”

  Fallon rubbed Nico’s shoulder. “You knew it then, didn’t you?” This had always been her favorite part.

  “Yeah. I loved him.”

  “Still do,” she corrected.

  Nico played with the lid on his coffee. “Still do,” he echoed.

  When Fallon peeked over her shoulder, she didn’t see the plastic bag or Martin’s cloudy breaths anymore. Her idea had spawned purely from Martin’s fortune, but ignoring Nico’s fortune had cost her: Your love will go unnoticed by the one who matters. If Martin was never to know Nico’s feelings, then anything could have pulled him away from his hiding spot behind the cart. He must not have stuck around long enough to hear Nico’s full confession.

  She wanted to climb onto the bench and yell until she lost her voice. She and Sebastian might have had dooming fortunes, but she had hoped, after speaking with Marion, that she could do something for her friends. Fighting fate was harder than she had imagined.

  chapter 22

  BELOW

  Fallon might have struck out with Nico and Martin, but Hijiri was different. Zita’s fortune for Hijiri had insisted that she change to inspire love, but she didn’t think Hijiri needed a makeover to do that. Joining the rebellion had allowed her to change for herself and in her own time. Fallon thought of the haircut as a gift only because, like her family, she had an eye for finding quality. She knew that with a little love, Hijiri’s hair could be healthy.

  Sebastian ran his fingers through Hijiri’s hair—or tried to. His fingers kept getting stuck in the knots. “This is no good,” he mumbled. “We’re just going to have to wash it first.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Hijiri said, flustered.

  “Don’t be nervous,” Sebastian said. “Look at my hair. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  Hijiri nodded.

  “Well, I cut my own hair. So, yours will look nice too.” Sebastian crossed his arms. “This is our thank you. We wanted to do something for you since you helped us with Nico’s problem. Though, I shouldn’t take the credit here. Fallon’s the one who thought of it.”

  Fallon smiled and leaned her chin on her hands. She came up with the idea months ago, but only now did she and Sebastian get to follow through. With the new semester starting tomorrow, the timing was perfect. “It’s an extended apology on my part too. You didn’t want anyone to know about your charm-making skills and I didn’t consider your feelings.”

  Hijiri huffed. “It’s okay. Really. I forgave you a long time ago. The thing is, I’ve never had to help anyone before. At home, I kept to myself. I didn’t have friends to worry about or do favors for. But after being able to give Nico directions for fighting Camille’s charm, I felt happy.” She looked at her feet. “I want to be a part of something bigger than me.”

  “This is the first step,” Sebastian said, walking over to his bag to take out the scissors and spray bottle.

  Hijiri eyed the scissors like a nervous cat.

  “I’m not going to cut off all your hair,” he said, laughing. “But you can’t dazzle Zita with your charms if you keep pushing your hair out of your face.”

  “I like hiding behind my hair.”

  “And you can still do that—just in a more convenient style.”

  Fallon watched their exchange with amusement. As a budding dog groomer, he had to have dealt with anxious dogs that tried biting his fingers or escaping the harness. Maybe he gentled them by talking to them, just as he did with Hijiri. Too bad dogs needed their hair in winter; she’d have liked to see him at work.

  Sebastian took Hijiri over to the sink and asked her for what she usually washed her hair with. When she returned from her bathroom with two bottles, he looked at both and threw the conditioner in the garbage. “Use the shampoo only,” he said, “because conditioner will only clog up your oily hair. Wash twice with the shampoo and try getting in the habit of showering in the morning. Sleeping on wet hair will only make your situation worse.”

  He demonstrated this by having her lean over the sink so he could wash her hair himself. It wasn’t glamorous, like having one’s hair washed at a salon. Hijiri complained of the soapsuds in her eyes.

  “I know,” he said, brows furrowed in concentration. “I’ll try to be quick.”

  Fallon walked over to the sink and watched him rub the shampoo into Hijiri’s hair. The suds foamed and swirled down the drain. Sebastian’s hands worked tirelessly at loosening the knots and clumps in Hijiri’s long hair. The back of Fallon’s head tingled. She wondered what it would feel like if Sebastian massaged her scalp. Her skin flushed.

  Sebastian caught her eye and smirked. “You want to go next?”

  “I don’t need a haircut.”

  “Okay, princess.”

  Fallon shivered and returned to the couch, having seen quite enough.

  Sebastian remained true to his word, concentrating his efforts on trimming the split ends. But when he got to the front, he snipped the air and smiled. “I’m going to give you bangs.”

  Hijiri stiffened. “Please don’t. I’ve had them before.”

  “Trust me. These bangs are going to flatter you.”

  He spent a few minutes crafting her bangs, making tiny snips and measuring the length with his fingers. “There,” he said.

  Fallon sucked in her breath. “Wow.”

  “What?” Hijiri said, trembling. She took the hand mirror from Sebastian and stared at her reflection. By opening up her face, Hijiri couldn’t hide her eyes, which were as dark as chipped onyx. Her bangs completely covered her eyebrows, almost touching her eyelashes. Her shiny black hair fell over her shoulders. “This is me?”

  “You’re so pretty,” Fallon said.

  Hijiri pressed the hand mirror to her chest. “Thanks.”

  Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. “There wasn’t much to do. You can still hide, if you want to. But people are going to see you once in a while. I hope you’re okay with that.”

  Hijiri struggled to meet Sebastian’s eyes. When she did, she smiled. “I think I am.”

  Fallon knew that Sebastian had cushioned the blow to ease Hijiri’s worry. With that new hairstyle, she couldn’t stay invisible.

  “Now that we’re done,” Sebastian said, “how about we meet the twins and Nico for dinner? Our last meal before school starts.”

  “Don’t sound so glum,” Fallon said. “You passed your exams, somehow. You can do it again.”

  “Your faith in me is inspiring,” he said dryly.

  Hijiri grabbed her bag and almost dragged them out of the apartment. “Let’s go. I want to see everyone.”

  Fallon and Sebastian exchanged smiles and followed her out.

&n
bsp; * * *

  This time, when the semester began, Fallon felt like she was playacting her role as student. Her uniform was a costume. Her homework, the script she had to follow. She’d circled January 31 on her calendar and the date rushed to meet her.

  As the twins predicted, January was a month of heavy snowfall. Fallon and Sebastian walked to school together, holding hands until they reached Grimbaud High. She relished these moments, even though she couldn’t feel the pressure of his hand through their thick gloves.

  “If we survive this,” he said, “I promise to kiss you in the library.”

  “I have to see people making out in the stacks every day. I’m not going to be one of them.”

  He stopped and wiped a snowflake off her blazer collar. His eyes were dark, serious. “Then you must have figured out by now what makes that place so appealing.”

  She pursed her lips. “Enlighten me.”

  “I don’t know. I was asking you.” He smirked. “But if we steal just one kiss in the stacks, we’ll be official. It’s like a charm.”

  Her stomach twisted. “We don’t need a charm for that.”

  Sebastian’s smirk turned tender. “All right. I’ll think of something better.”

  Her heart thumped louder. She squeezed his hand.

  In mid-January, preparations for the Welcome Love Fair began. The club tables would take up the entire front lawn of the school. The administration paid for tents, offering covering in case of snowfall during the fair hours. The student government officers were busy during this time; Nico’s parents relieved him of his ticket booth duties temporarily so that he could assist in the construction of the fair. Whenever Fallon saw Martin in the hallways, she felt a pinch of anger and loss. He scurried after Camille, letting her harass him in front of everyone. If only he had stayed to hear Nico’s confession. She felt that would have changed things.

  When she couldn’t concentrate on her homework, she stood outside her apartment on the stairs, searching the rooftops for some sign that Grimbaud knew of the rebellion’s plans. The town pulsed with strength and grandeur when she walked its streets. Charms worked here. This place was magic. It deserved to be free as much as they all did, destroying Zita’s fortunes forever. She closed her eyes and pictured Grimbaud’s many cobblestones and cafés, the Tunnel of Love, the belfry, canals, footbridges, and the whitewashed walls of the villas.