Love Fortunes and Other Disasters (5 page)

“The first phase has to do with love charms,” Mirthe said, writing on the board again. She drew a giant heart. “As I said before, Zita's shop has been around since our grandparents were in school. She's had years to wipe our town clean of the love charms that others have left behind. This is bad for us. We need love charms, and we can't use Zita's. Do you know of anyone else selling love charms in Grimbaud right now?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“How about books and magazines?”

Nico said, “Not one.”

“You can't even buy them from Zita if you get a bad fortune,” Fallon said, remembering what had happened after she ran into Camille in the shop.

“Exactly! So if Zita won't give you charms to fight the fortune
she
gave you, what chance do you have of changing your fate? It's the perfect tactic. She's boxing us in.”

Femke added, “That's why finding love charms is step one of our plan.”

Fallon listened carefully as the twins explained how the charm gathering was going to work. Using whatever resources were available, each member of the rebellion had to collect love charms. Charms were organized into three different forms: object, verbal, and potion. Love charms were no different. Successful charms were usually written down for safekeeping, so finding books and magazines seemed like a good start. Femke suggested searching the library archives for forgotten charms; it was worth looking into for anyone who thought they could get a peek. Fallon wrote that down in her planner. She had already registered to volunteer at the school library anyway this year, so she'd work on befriending Ms. Ward.

“If your parents send you generous pocket change, you could buy the magazines that are being printed now. You'd have to pick them up yourself, though. Delivery is too risky,” Mirthe said.

“That makes sense,” Nico said. “Even the mailmen are dependent on Zita's fortunes. If they knew what we were ordering…”

“We'd be caught,” Mirthe finished. “You can take a bus out to neighboring towns, but if you have your own transportation, that would be better.”

“Mirthe and I share a moped,” Femke said.

“Then it sounds like buying the new charms will be up to you,” Sebastian said dryly.

Mirthe ignored him. “There are other ways to find old love charms. You have to keep your eyes and ears open. Write them down if they're not already captured on paper. Learn to squeeze the charms out of people.”

“Don't forget to organize them,” Femke said as they packed up their belongings.

The energy in the room hummed. No one had ever tried to shut Zita's shop down. This was new territory, and the task ahead had not quite sunken in. Fallon pushed whatever doubts she had aside. Her fortune reminded her of what lay ahead if she sat by and did nothing.

*   *   *

At first, Fallon thought she was alone walking back to the student housing complex. Her thoughts flickered and glowed like fireflies. She imagined eating whatever entr
é
es were cooling on tables at the outdoor caf
é
s, as if judging their quality was not a habit she'd been bred to follow.
I could eat whatever I want
, she thought,
and pick each dish just by what smells good
.
My nose isn't as developed as my parents'.
She liked that flaw. The sky darkened, allowing the streetlamps to cast golden shadows on the streets.

As she approached a footbridge, Sebastian walked beside her. He had a languid stride, even while carrying his schoolbag over one shoulder. He didn't look at her for quite some time. He stared straight ahead, chin up, with that incorrigibly bored expression on his face.

“You could have waited,” he said. “I live at the complex too.”

Fallon wasn't sure what to say. When the meeting ended, her only desire was to return to her apartment. There were clothes to lie out for the next morning and she needed to use the potatoes she had bought for her dinner tonight or else they would go bad. “My mind was on other things.”

“What things?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Nothing important.”

The canal below their feet made gentle lapping sounds. Two little girls ran across the footbridge, shrieking and throwing leaves at each other.

“I've heard about you.” He watched the leaves as they tumbled out of the girls' hands.

“Me?”

“Fallon Dupree, Grimbaud High's princess.”

“I've only been in school a day. How could I have a title?”

“News travels fast. I heard that you wouldn't eat the principal's casserole at orientation. That caused quite a stir. Along with the T-shirts. I guess you won't be wearing one on our school spirit days.”

“The quality's poor,” Fallon said. “Wearing cheap material makes my skin crawl.” Robbie had all but burned away any desire she had to wear cheap clothes after he became a clothing inspector.

“It's not a Dupree thing to do,” he said.

“What do you know about my family?”

“What everyone else knows. Duprees are sleuths. They inspect everything. They also live up to their own quality standards, be it food, clothing, or dating. This is a small town, isn't it?”

Part of her wanted to turn the tables on him. Sebastian had to have been gossiped about at school, if his track record of girlfriends over the past month gave any indication. She was willing to bet he dated and dumped girls no matter the season.

As if sensing her thoughts, he said, “Barringers have been coming to Grimbaud for years too, but we don't have a reputation. Until now. I'm doing an awfully good job. You've seen the girls at my door this summer?”

“I'm not that nosy.”

He snorted. “You've been leaving tissue boxes.”

Her breath caught. She hadn't expected him to notice such a small thing.

Sebastian flashed a lazy smirk. “I have a lot of ex-girlfriends. That's kind of you to leave them tissues. You keep buying the expensive ones.”

“They need the extra care, with you breaking their hearts,” Fallon said softly. “Go away.”

If Sebastian heard her, he didn't give any indication. He matched her pace, keeping his gaze on the other side of the footbridge. His bangs fell into his eyes. “I'm bored, Fallon, and dating is as fun a game as any.”

Fallon's voice turned bitter. “I have a talent for ruining fun. You're wasting your time.”

Sebastian took one long step forward, flashing the white of his ankle. His leather shoe came down hard on the leaf resting there. The shattering sound made a group of crows rise into the air. “You didn't jump.”

Fallon blinked. “Was I supposed to be scared?”

Sebastian cocked his head. He looked back at her over his shoulder. “I don't know. That's what's interesting about you. You don't act like a princess.”

“Are princesses scared of leaves breaking?”

“Of course. Princesses are delicate creatures. The sound reminds them of bones shattering in a dragon's mouth. But you're made of stronger stuff.”

Fallon sucked in her breath. Her body felt leaden. The shadows shivered and danced around them, the light from the streetlamps stinging her eyes.

“You could try me out sometime, you know, with the dating thing.” His tone was teasing. “Who knows? We could fall in love.”

She tried to smile as they started walking again, if only for her own sake. “I doubt it.”

“Maybe.”

“Sebastian,” she ventured. “It doesn't matter what my fortune says. I'm not interested in dating you.”

His mouth twitched. “More like passing the time.”

“I think you'd have more fun with a real princess,” she said.

When they reached the student housing complex, Sebastian opened the gate for her. She thanked him, but tucked the gesture away in her brain. She didn't need to remember nice things like that, coming from a boy who would date anyone.

 

chapter 4

OVERDUE

Sebastian's words returned to plague Fallon on her walk to the school library the next day. Nothing about her was princesslike. Nothing at all. Fallon lacked classic beauty, an affinity for animals, and was not, as Sebastian insisted, delicate, no matter how well she cared for herself. Okay, so even after a morning of rushing from class to class and sharing her homemade lunch with Nico and Anais, her hair remained perfectly parted down the middle and her nails were clear of dirt. But she was no princess. Rather, Fallon decided as she walked into the library, she'd make a good clever maid, the one in fairy tales who always got her mistress out of trouble.

A clever maid wouldn't be scared of crushed leaves.

Ms. Emma Ward, the head librarian, stood on a chair against the back wall of the library, adjusting one of the many inspirational posters encouraging teens to read. The angle was a little off, so Ms. Ward kept leaning forward and backward to gauge whether she had straightened the frame. The chair wobbled with each movement.

“Lift the left side about a half an inch,” Fallon suggested.

Ms. Ward squinted through her cat-eye glasses. “Are you sure?”

“It's easier to tell, standing back here.”

Ms. Ward shifted the frame accordingly and managed to climb down from the chair. Her long black pencil skirt and conservative sweater didn't allow her much room for movement. Ms. Ward was in her twenties, with gentle features that were sharpened by her angular jewelry and glasses.

Fallon handed her a purple slip of paper that came from Mr. Drummond. “I'm Fallon Dupree. I've been assigned to be your helper during this period,” she said. She wasn't much of a reader, even though she took great care of the golden-bound picture books she had since childhood. More often than not, she buried herself in her parents' old quality-control textbooks in an effort to find loopholes in their strict lifestyle. What excited her about work at the library was the system itself: she loved the idea of a card catalog holding all the knowledge in the room, and the distinct pleasure of being able to reshelve a book to its assigned spot.

The plastic-covered library books at Grimbaud High had wrinkled pages and were tattooed with illegible margin notes. They smelled like sadness and temptation, drenched in dust motes that drifted like tiny stars. Many a bored teenager had trampled the ancient carpet. Gum hardened underneath the wooden tables. Nooks and unpopular stacks provided ample cover for secret make out sessions. Fallon winced. She didn't relish the idea of watching other students live out their good love fortunes, and she hoped Ms. Ward didn't either.

“A helper,” Ms. Ward repeated. “Yes, that's just what I need. I didn't think Mr. Drummond listened when I requested being part of the program.”

“What should I do first?”

“You should probably shadow me. I'll show you how the library works. A library, no matter how big or small, is a careful balance of love and responsibility. A machine, if you will, cranked by those who care most about reading. What a wonderful balm it is for the soul.”

Fallon smiled. The drab library looked more cheerful after hearing Ms. Ward's ardent speech.

The hour passed quickly as Ms. Ward showed her how to shelve returned books, properly stamp and register a book being borrowed, and how to pretend you know more about the card catalog than the students searching for a particular title do.

“It's so simple to use,” Ms. Ward said, “but I can't tell you how many students stare at the catalog as if it's a monster waiting to bite their fingers.”

The boy sitting alone at a table looked up. He had smooth, dark skin with eyes large and brown like twin dark chocolate truffles. The veins running along his skull stood out. A broken key hung from his neck. He was too young to be a high school student, so Fallon figured that he must have been one of the teacher's sons in need of a babysitter. The music pouring from his headphones sounded like a tango.

“Quiet in the library,” Ms. Ward sung, tapping her fingers on the boy's table as she passed.

The boy shrugged and lowered the volume on his tape player.

“He says his mother fries mozzarella sticks in the cafeteria,” Ms. Ward said when they stepped into the history aisle. “Is that true?”

“I don't know.”

“I mean, does the cafeteria really serve mozzarella sticks?”

Fallon brought her own lunch to school, so she wasn't sure.

Ms. Ward gave a tentative smile. “It's just funny. It seems like a childish food to serve teenagers. You're all almost adults.”

A lump formed in Fallon's throat. She couldn't miss the longing in Ms. Ward's voice, how her words were gingerly spoken. The librarian was lonely. And no wonder. The entire school knew how her love fortune had turned out.

“I think that's all for today, Fallon. Fifth period swiftly approaches.” Ms. Ward led them back to the circulation desk. Behind the desk, out of sight from students, were some photographs. Each one depicted the same group of women caught in the middle of activities: knitting, watching movies, playing croquet on the lawn outside the Spinster Villas.

“Your friends?” Fallon asked when she felt Ms. Ward watching.

“Yes.” Ms. Ward smiled sadly at the photographs. “They're lovely women.”

Fallon wanted to know why, after traveling the world, she had decided to return to Grimbaud. But asking her about such a touchy subject would have been rude. “Those are nice pictures,” she said instead.

Ms. Ward thanked her. They spent the remaining minutes awkwardly standing behind the desk, shuffling loose book pockets.

*   *   *

If the twins were right, only the deepest, most abandoned archives of the library might hold charms made by the old love charm-makers. Fallon doubted that the school library had such a back room. Grimbaud's public library was the next stop.