She was torn between wanting to look for the signature and wanting to … just touch his skin.
It’s not funny, she thought, mentally scolding her heart. Cut it out, now! Her hand slipped. She clipped a perfectly healthy branch by accident.
The options were grim. Maybe she could find ways to get him to take off his socks, or even his sweater if she turned up the thermostat in her apartment. But getting flashes and glimpses of his skin would take a long time. She didn’t think she had the patience.
“Hijiri,” Fallon said, carrying textbooks in the crook of her arm. “Are you busy?”
Hijiri welcomed the distraction. “Almost done here.”
“Have you been … handling not being able to craft love charms okay?”
“I’ve been distracted,” she said, thinking of Ken, “and haven’t been sleeping well. Thursday’s too far away.”
“Well, I have an idea.” Fallon smiled brightly. “How about you and I do something fun in town? I know a place you can work out your frustrations.”
“I don’t need a punching bag,” Hijiri said. Maybe she did.
Fallon shook her head. “You’ll see. Ready in an hour?”
Hijiri’s curiosity flared. She couldn’t wait to see what her friend had in mind.
* * *
“Only two?” the woman at the counter asked, her eyes flickering between Hijiri and Fallon. “Do you have a couple’s discount coupon?”
“Oh no, we’re just friends,” Fallon said.
“Right this way.”
Crafty Cupids was a favorite Grimbaud destination for those easily amused by glue sticks and paint splatters. The back of the store had numerous tables occupied by fidgety children and anxious parents. Balloons pressing against the ceiling tickled the tops of people’s heads with their strings.
“Consider this room your craft haven,” the woman said, gesturing to the rows of plates, mugs, cute animals, and cupids lining the walls, just waiting to be painted and covered unceremoniously with glitter. “Nothing is off-limits. But remember that the bigger the item you’re painting, the higher the price.”
“So what do you think?” Fallon asked, wandering over to the shelves.
“You’re wearing the wrong outfit for this place,” Hijiri said. “If you think your skirt is going to survive this place unstained, you’re naive.”
Fallon only laughed. Then she leaned close to whisper, “The truth is that I bought the shirt and skirt when I was out with Sebastian last week. Off the sale rack. The second button on the skirt was even missing.”
Hijiri snorted. “No way.”
“I’m trying,” Fallon said, shuddering. “What are you going to paint?”
Hijiri considered the choices. Choosing a plate or mug would help fill her empty kitchen cabinets, but the cupids drew her attention in the end. She chose one with little wings, one dimpled cheek creased with the beginning of a mischievous grin.
She and Fallon took a corner table away from the giggling children and party hats. Fallon neatly squeezed different paint colors in her dish, each one safely separate from mixing with the others, and started to paint her mug right away.
Hijiri opened the drawers underneath the shelves; they were stuffed with supplies she would have considered using for her own charms. Seeing the fake gemstones, stickers, felt, and neon pipe cleaners brought back the itch to craft love charms. She took a deep breath. “Have fun,” she ordered herself under her breath. Don’t think about charm-making.
Hijiri dipped a fat brush in sparkling gold paint, tickling under the cupid’s armpits and rubbing the bristles across its belly.
“Did you try what I suggested? Listening to your heart?”
Hijiri poked the cupid in the eye with gold paint.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she said, dunking her brush in the paint. “I did try. A little.”
Fallon’s expression turned serious. “What happened?”
“It’s not easy,” Hijiri blurted. “My heart does strange things. It doesn’t want to stay put. It likes to dance and send feelings shooting up and down my spine.”
“When Ken’s around?”
Hijiri rubbed her chin. “Yes.”
Fallon’s mouth twitched. “What do you think your heart’s saying?”
“I don’t know. It confuses me too much.”
“Try harder,” Fallon said. “Promise me.”
“Other people’s hearts are so much simpler,” Hijiri mumbled.
“It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” Fallon said lightly.
“Regardless of what my heart’s doing, the fact remains that Ken must be solved,” Hijiri said, eager to change the subject, however slight. “I’ve come up with a new plan.” She told Fallon about keyholes and signatures, and how she needed to find ways to search Ken for such signs. Weakness. A way to see what he was made of.
Fallon painted the lip of her mug with neat strokes. “Hmm.”
“It’s a good plan, right?”
“It’ll be tricky.” Fallon covered her mouth with her hand. “I just can’t see you trying to rip his clothes off.”
Hijiri’s face was a burning coal. “I’d never!”
“Then where do you think Love would leave a signature on Ken?”
“It could be anywhere.”
“Maybe … maybe it’s in the most obvious spot,” Fallon said.
Hijiri gasped. “His heart.”
“When Zita’s charm activated, it spread over Sebastian’s heart,” Fallon said quietly. Physical proof of the attack on his life with each swirling cursive letter of his love fortune written into his skin.
The heart would be key. It was as much Love’s symbol as the storks and cupids. If Love left anything behind on Ken, it would have to be there.
Chapter 10
WATERWORKS
Hijiri’s Crafty Cupids creation gained a few additions after it had been sealed and fired in the kiln. She had wrapped neon pink and blue pipe cleaners around the neck as a scarf. Gold tinsel glued down like hair gel for added dimension to the cupid’s curls. And a felt heart, cut as tiny as Hijiri could manage with her scissors, glued on its chest.
“Hello, tiny heart,” she whispered. In a way, she felt like she was speaking to her own heart.
When Hijiri returned home, she placed the cupid on her kitchen table with the wilting begonias, realizing that the cupid was probably the most striking feature now inhabiting her dull apartment.
Then she called the twins and told them about her plan to get Ken’s shirt off.
“You’re letting us help?” Mirthe said.
“You offered,” Hijiri reminded her. Besides, Fallon had been right: she’d have a difficult time managing the feat on her own, especially when the idea alone made her turn cherry red.
Femke must have pried the phone out of her twin’s hand. “Mirthe and I need time to form a mutual plan.…”
“Why wait?” Mirthe said, tugging back. “We’re not going to agree. I’ll show you how much better my weather charms are, Femke. Your fog and clouds won’t get Ken to take off his shirt. I’ll use much stronger charms.”
“Where are you going to get those?” Femke asked testily.
“I have my ways.”
“Ways that Mom and Dad wouldn’t approve of, no doubt.”
“Don’t worry, Hijiri. Ken will be naked from the waist up before you even blink!”
Hijiri listened to the beep-beep-beep of the call being dropped before realizing that the twins were already gone. She opened her fridge and pressed the orange juice carton to her burning skin.
* * *
Wednesday was a small victory. Hijiri managed to make it through the school day without fidgeting too much, but her heart throbbed when she walked between classes wondering if she’d see one of the twins’ plans in action. Mirthe gave her a thumbs-up in the hall between Hijiri’s algebra and literature classes.
Hijiri returned the gesture, puzzled.
Meanwhile, she did h
er best to examine snatches of Ken’s skin that she could see.
The curve of his neck, sticking out of his bulky sweater.
His unremarkable wrists.
The backs of his ears. Hijiri had never noticed that his ears were naturally pink. It wasn’t a blush.
By the time Thursday rolled around, she felt she had stared down every exposed sliver of skin. Love hadn’t left a signature where Ken’s jaw met his ear. That would have been clever.
Her card catalog was supposed to arrive today, but the sky didn’t think it was worth celebrating. Overcast and humid, unusual for a September day in Grimbaud. Hijiri eyed the gray clouds warily on her walk with Ken to school.
“You must hate the rain,” Ken said.
Hijiri grumbled. Her skin was damp, her hair sticking to the back of her neck.
Ken’s compact umbrella fit the front pocket of his backpack. He never took it out, not once, even when the clouds breathed mist on their heads. “Are you worried about your hair? Will your face melt if you get wet?”
Hijiri let out a surprised laugh. “Those are strange questions.”
“Really?”
“Well, I don’t wear makeup,” she said. “So no face-melting.” But he was a charm-boy, so maybe his face would melt. Somehow. Unknown charms were unpredictable.
A group of girls passed, fanning themselves with folded notebook paper. Vendors sold frozen yogurt topped with blueberries still glittering with ice crystals.
“There’s something romantic about rain,” Ken said softly.
“Says the boy who claims he knows nothing about love charms.”
Ken smiled. “I think it’s the eyelash dripping that does it.”
Hijiri stopped, causing a harried tourist to bump right into her. She didn’t care.
Ken shoved his hands into his pockets; despite wearing a thick sweater, he seemed unbothered by the heat. “Have you ever looked at someone’s eyelashes when they’re caught in the rain? The beads of water that pool on their eyelashes. It’s mesmerizing.”
A question burned her tongue: when, in his short life, did he stare at someone’s eyelashes in the rain? Maybe Love made him watch some movies before he came to Grimbaud. She took a breath, and suddenly that question didn’t seem as important. Ken’s eyelashes were thin; she didn’t know how they would hold droplets. Not that I want to see it, she thought.
Ken raised his eyebrows. “What? No questions?”
“Just this once.”
They started walking again, and Ken kept his face turned away from her. But she could still see another smile tugging at his lips.
* * *
Grimbaud High’s air-conditioning systems broke in both wings. The rate of paper fans and folders being used grew exponentially. Teachers unlocked and opened their classroom windows, but the humidity crawling inside did little to help ease the discomfort.
After homeroom, Hijiri saw the twins being chased through the hallway by students begging them for wind charms. Mirthe jumped over a boy who had kneeled to tie his shoe. Femke stuck out her tongue and followed Mirthe around the corner.
Principal Bemelmans tried to instill some order by announcing over the loudspeaker that a repair crew was on its way. No one believed him.
“Even if the repair crew arrives, how will they fix the entire school before the day’s over?” Anais said at lunch. “We’d battle one another over which wing gets fixed first. I’d have the upper hand with Bear.”
Bear tucked into his second plate of meat loaf. He looked at his girlfriend adoringly. “You could climb on my back as I throw our enemies to the ground.”
Anais loved the idea. “And I could defend you from my height!”
Fallon hid her laughter with her napkin. She was almost crying. “Look,” she said, taking a few breaths, “I don’t think it’ll come to that. If anything, Grimbaud High should purchase some charms from the twins’ shop.”
Hijiri tugged at her blouse; it stuck to her like a second skin. She didn’t have much of an appetite.
“But then again, Martin would say it isn’t in the budget if they haven’t done it already,” Fallon added.
Anais’s fluffy blond hair clung to her flushed cheeks. She tapped her fingers on the table and drank her lukewarm bottle of water. “On a day like this, no one will be able to concentrate.”
Already, the students in the cafeteria picked at their too-warm food. Some even raided the salad bar since the greens were cooler than the meat loaf and steamy pasta.
Hijiri tried to focus on the exciting evening ahead: she’d have her card catalog around dinnertime. Spending the night putting her charm supplies away in the numerous drawers would be fantastic—but she was missing one more piece. “I need to find a table,” she said.
Fallon looked at her. “For your apartment?”
“I’ll need a reliable one this time. I don’t want to lose my supplies again.”
Instead of suggesting some shops, Fallon asked, “Did you tell Ken that you’re looking for one?”
Hijiri blinked. “Why?”
“Seems like he knows some things about furniture,” Fallon said. “I mean, he came up with the idea of using the card catalog for your supplies. And he knew why your old table broke.”
“Anyone could know that,” Hijiri said. Just because she didn’t know, it didn’t mean Ken was some kind of secret furniture genius.
“Maybe you’re right.” Fallon folded her used napkin. “But you should ask him anyway. I’m sure he wants to spend more time with you.”
“I want more time with my charms.”
“Charms can’t hold conversations.” Fallon held up her hand. “Unless we’re talking about a boy made of charms. In which case, you should be talking to Ken all the time.”
Hijiri thought she was spending enough time with Ken as it was. But she knew that look on her friend’s face so she sighed and said, “Fine. I’ll ask him about the table.”
* * *
With no repairs and the temperature rising, Hijiri suffered through her classes as best she could. She lost the desire to pay attention in her literature class, even though her teacher forced them to read from the textbook. Ink came off on her fingers when she turned the pages.
She grew sleepy. The words swam on the page. Hijiri was close to closing her eyes and letting the heat snuggle her into a nap when rain slammed against the classroom door.
Hijiri sat straight up, puzzled. Why was it raining inside?
Her fellow students didn’t share her confusion. All they saw was relief. Bursting out of their chairs and leaving their textbooks behind, the teens ran into the hallway. Hijiri stood in the doorway with her teacher, observing the chaos in the hall. Puddles had already started forming. Students splashed and opened their mouths as the rain poured in. Sweet respite from the pressing heat. Hijiri looked up and saw thin, snakelike clouds crawling along the ceiling, releasing rain with factory precision.
“The twins,” Hijiri whispered. Then she ran into the rain.
The rain wasn’t just cold. It was chilling. Her teeth chattered from the shock of it as she dashed through clumps of soaked students and teachers. Everyone smiled, laughed, screeched. But she was looking for someone in particular.
Her class had been on the second floor, but she knew that Ken was taking biology at the same time on the third floor. Once she reached the staircase, she fought against the tide of students on the stairs and climbed, anticipation drumming through her bones. Her bangs stuck to her forehead as she ran, blinking back water and calling Ken’s name over the sound of the rain.
Ken was in the middle of the hallway, his hair sticking up in tufts and his sweater hanging heavy and wet. He was looking up at the charmed clouds, entranced.
And completely unaware that the De Keysers were sneaking up on him.
Femke gestured sharply at Mirthe, warning her off, but Mirthe deliberately ignored her sister. Mirthe withdrew a bottle from her bag. It had a cork in it, plugging up what looked like fierce winds.
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Hijiri’s heart stopped.
When Mirthe uncorked the bottle, she flew backward as the wind came charging out. Right at Ken.
She couldn’t warn him, not loud enough. Never loud enough. The winds hit the clouds and mixed badly, spiraling rain through the hall and slamming into lockers and students alike. Hijiri covered her eyes and sank to the floor. The rain lashed at her face. She heard Femke yelling at her sister, felt the murky heat of fog pour along the floor. Then she forced herself to get up and find Ken.
He was lying on his side in the middle of the hallway. His knees were curled to his chest.
Her heart tumbled out of its box and flopped around somewhere near her stomach. She was by his side in seconds, her hands hovering over his face. She checked the back of his head for bumps or bruising. Then smoothed back his hair. Now’s your chance, a little voice inside her head whispered. Lift his shirt up. Check his heart.
Ken’s eyes fluttered open. He caught her wrist just as she was about to tug his sweater up. “Hijiri?” he croaked.
Disappointment and relief rubbed together inside her chest. The twins had failed badly. What were they thinking? “You’re okay?” she asked, her voice trembling in the cold.
“Looks like I fell,” Ken said, sitting up on his elbows.
Hijiri hovered above him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Ken’s eyes narrowed. A small smile tugged at his lips. He stared at her with such warmth. “Look at that,” he said softly. “Your eyelashes are catching water. It’s beautiful.”
Her cheeks did that burning thing again. “Are you listening to me?”
Principal Bemelmans turned the corner with three teachers. He had kept relatively dry with a twisted umbrella in his grip. “Standard evacuation,” he yelled. “Head toward the nearest exit.”
One of the teachers opened a window, letting the wind out.
“Hey, don’t do that!” Mirthe said. “That wind’s worth a lot of money. You can’t just—”
Femke slapped her own forehead and grimaced.
“The De Keysers,” Principal Bemelmans said dryly. “You couldn’t help disturbing the school with your charms, could you? I thought we were doing so well, too.”
“This was an exception,” Mirthe argued. “The AC was broken. That’s human suffering. Femke and I were just cooling everyone off.”
Love Charms and Other Catastrophes Page 11