Love Charms and Other Catastrophes by Kimberly Karalius Page A

speech,” Martin said wistfully.
    â€œYes, and it will be your best. I’ve got just the charm for you.” Nico wiggled his fingers and cupped Martin’s face. He pressed a short but soft kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.
    Martin kept his eyes closed a little longer, as if hoping Nico’s charm needed more time to work. He was blushing, but not as flustered as he had been when he and Nico started dating last spring.
    Hijiri felt proud of the two boys. “We can go now,” she told Ken.
    Ken fell into step beside her as they joined the rush of students crossing the lawn. “That wasn’t a charm, was it?” Ken asked.
    She shook her head. “Nico would never use a charm on Martin.”
    â€œThat’s good,” Ken said.
    Hijiri frowned. “Shouldn’t you know a love charm when you see it?”
    â€œMaybe Love forgot that with the wings,” he said.
    *   *   *
    Now that Hijiri was a sophomore, she had earned the privilege of wasting time during homeroom watching orientation from the third-floor windows. Mr. De Pelsmaeker even opened the classroom windows for them so that they could smell the casserole and excitement wafting while they peered down at the freshmen.
    Freshmen orientation had been a blur for her. Tables enticed the new students to become part of the community early. Local charm-makers talked about their disciplines and interviewed for potential apprentices, should a freshman already know what type of charm-making he or she wanted to pursue. Other tables gave out information on clubs and school programs.
    Hijiri tried to see if Ken had taken a piece of the principal’s casserole, but he was hard to spot from that height. She thought she might have seen him at the office-experience program booth, but she couldn’t be sure with students rushing from table to table. She gave up after a few minutes and found her seat. When homeroom ended, Hijiri didn’t have to move since Mr. De Pelsmaeker was her first-period teacher too for algebra. Mr. De Pelsmaeker stapled the class’s worksheets while reminiscing about his own freshmen orientation many years ago. His white hair was almost translucent and his vest had seen better days, but Hijiri was glad that when it came down to teaching, the man could explain exponents perfectly.
    She drifted through the school day in much the same fashion as she had last year. She found seats in the back of classrooms, where she could either stare out a window or stare at inspirational posters on the dull, cream-colored walls. She took notes as each teacher discussed major projects and exam dates, but her margins were dedicated to doodles and ideas about love charms. Ken wasn’t in any of her classes.
    *   *   *
    Martin made good on his promise of getting them an appointment with Principal Bemelmans that day. The principal’s office was located at the very top of the main office—the rooms above the old gate. Hijiri had never been beyond the front office, where sleepy secretaries and office-experience program students fielded calls and took care of minor emergencies. As she climbed the steps to his office, she felt dizzy. Everything was riding on earning the principal’s approval. If they failed here, they wouldn’t be able to compete.
    Principal Bemelmans’s square-shaped office had windows on three walls that provided an excellent view of the campus below. Because of the constant sunlight, his certificates and degrees had faded in their frames. The principal himself was tall, tanned, and handsome, with a graying mustache and sideburns. Hijiri tried to pick out the details Fallon would have noticed in order to share them with her later. The exercise distracted her from her thumping heart. She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt.
    â€œEntering the competition is a heavy commitment,” Principal Bemelmans said, steepling his fingers.
    â€œOne that we can