Love Fortunes and Other Disasters (2 page)

Fallon glanced at her friend's flat, faux-leather shoes. They looked like they had been cobbled together by a blind shoemaker, if not a factory, and she doubted that the straps would last the walk back without breaking. “I'm sure he's got us a good spot.”

The majority of the line consisted of Grimbaud High students. Tradition dictated that every high school student should get a love fortune before the beginning of each school year. This particular love fortune was different than the other charms sold in Zita's shop: it foretold your romantic future for the entire school year. Zita's 100 percent accuracy kept the townspeople coming back to her shop.

The line moved, releasing a smattering of students trying to process their fortunes. Some cried—happy tears or sad—while others stared at their ticker-tape fortunes with stunned disbelief. The students with the best fortunes glowed like stars, one step away from dancing on the cobblestones. Nico stood in the middle of the line, twisting his damp shirt in his tanned fingers. He had brown hair, burned gold from the sun, and a sinewy body.

“Couldn't you have gotten here earlier?” Anais said, pinching Nico's arm.

“Hey! It doesn't make a difference. The line's been here since dawn. Just be glad you're not in the back of the line,” Nico said, “because I'm nice enough to let you cut me.”

“Did you eat breakfast?”

“Nah. I can't stomach it.” Nico rubbed the back of his head; his fingers paused over his thinning hair.

Fallon and Anais squeezed in front of Nico in line, much to the consternation of the students behind him.

“After we all get wonderful fortunes,” Anais said, “we'll have to indulge in a good brunch.”

Nico pressed a hand to his mouth. “Please don't talk about food.”

Fallon worried about the green tinge of his skin. “Sit down right now,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Put your head between your legs.”

Nico obeyed. He gulped down a few deep breaths before struggling to his feet again.

“Could you be seasick?” Anais teased.

“Not possible. Sailing the canals is nothing like the sea. The water's smooth, like gliding on mirrors.”

“The better to see your bald spot with.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “I'm just excited, okay? And out-of-my-mind nervous. This could be the year I get Martin's attention. Or not. Oh god, or not.”

“Deep breaths,” Fallon warned.

“You don't understand,” he said. “Martin broke up with Camille over the summer. I might have a chance.”

Fallon had only known Nico for a month, having been introduced to him through Anais, but she already felt invested in his longtime crush on Martin Pauwels, the student government president. As a sophomore, Nico had secured the unwanted position of treasurer, enabling him to work side by side with Martin during the new school year.

Nico's full name was Nicolas Barnes, of the Barnes family that owned the most popular canal cruises in town and the famous tourist attraction, the Tunnel of Love. Nico spent his days cleaning the boats, manning the Barnes' booths spread throughout Grimbaud, and sometimes giving tours when the cruises were booked low. Over the weeks that she had gotten to know him, she had learned how to speak above the roar of boat engines. Nico had mastered that skill long ago and had no trouble bemoaning Martin's now ex-girlfriend and the fact that, as far as anyone knew, Martin didn't like boys.

The line continued to move, and each step brought them closer to the moment of truth. Fallon could see Zita's storefront now, adorned with slanted gold lettering. The windows revealed a shop lit with warm, round lights. Love potions in glass-blown bottles gleamed in the windows. A rack holding prewritten love letters spun like a carousel while charms molded like cupids sat in baskets labeled
HALF PRICE
. Fallon tore her eyes away from the enchanting display.

The love-fortune machine was built into the wall on the left-hand side of the shop. Like the storefront, it was painted the same shade of pink and rimmed with golden swirls. A series of cogs, kept behind rose-colored glass, moved each time the machine printed a new fortune on paper strips. The boys in front of them shoved their coins one by one into the slot; Fallon heard Nico swallow loudly when the last boy, shouting with victory, brandished his good fortune and walked away.

“Who's going to go first?” Fallon said. Her hands shook.

Anais rolled her eyes. “Me. Otherwise we'll be pelted for holding up the line.”

She slipped her coins into the machine and placed her hand on the scallop-edged heart in the wall. The heart pulsed as the cogs turned. No one knew exactly how the love-fortune machine worked, but it was clear that the heart read who you were—somehow. Fallon felt a slight tremor under her feet. As if Zita herself were underneath the cobblestones right now, reading Anais's heartbeat and scrawling her fortune.

The ticker tape slid out of the machine facedown. On the other side, written in red ink, was the fortune.

Anais squealed. “Good news for me.
‘Your love life will be fruitful as long as you are true to yourself.'
”

Fallon let go of the breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

Nico frowned. “What does that mean?”

“If I'm myself, I'll get to keep Bear as my boyfriend.”

“If,” Nico said, “you actually let him see you in your work uniform.”

“Never.”

“What about the biscuit tins? I'm sure he'll think you're adorable when—”

“No way. No boyfriend of mine needs to know about that.” Anais pushed him forward. “You go next.”

Nico put his hand on the heart. He shuddered so badly that the printing of his fortune seemed miraculous. Nico scanned the fortune, one, twice, and muttered, “Oh no. Oh no.”

Anais plucked it before he could drop it.
“‘Your love will go unnoticed by the one who matters.'”

Fallon rubbed his shoulder, at a loss for words. “Nico…”

His eyes grew red with unshed tears. “No big deal, right? I expected this.”

“Shut up,” Anais said, drawing him into a hug.

Fallon wished she could tell him not to give up, but that wasn't how Grimbaud worked. Zita's love fortunes were always right. The red ink was clear enough; Nico would do better forgetting Martin once and for all. Easier said than done. Fallon squared her shoulders and stepped forward, taking her turn at the machine.

She placed her hand on the scallop-edged heart and closed her eyes. The cogs turned in a symphony of clicking and clanking. In that moment, Fallon swore the earth absorbed her heartbeats like sunlight and saw the truth in them. Her fate. She almost forgot to reach for the ticker tape as it slid out of the machine.

“Fallon, read it,” Anais said, her voice soft with new worry.

Fallon opened her eyes and tore off the strip. The red ink made a long scar on the surface.
“‘Your love will never be requited,'”
she whispered aloud as she read each word.

Her stomach dropped out of her.

Nico rubbed his eyes, turning green on her behalf. “Are you sure?”

Anais gently pried the fortune out of Fallon's hands and read it herself. “It's true. It really says that. Fallon, have you been holding out on us? Is there a boy you like? Someone from your hometown, maybe?”

It took a few seconds for her throat to work. “No.”

Anais cursed.

Fallon forgot how to breathe. The word “never” scared her. It held the weight of forever.

Her fate was sealed.

Fallon broke away from the machine, ignoring Anais's and Nico's shouts as she ran straight into the shop. Despite the warm lighting, the layout of Zita's shop had the ambiance of a perfume department. Marble counters and shelves displayed booklets on how to kiss and how to plan a perfect date. Bins of innumerable pocketbook charms, potions, and amorous gifts reserved for adults overwhelmed her. The scent of a dozen roses stuffed up her nose and tickled her brain. She imagined holding hands with a boy alongside the canal at midnight. Sharing secrets. Stepping on cobblestones. Exchanging kisses as decadent as truffles. Her heart pounded like a wild thing. She breathed through her mouth and stumbled toward the nearest counter.

“Try not to breathe too deeply,” warned the girl at the counter. “The scent they pump in here takes a long time to get used to. It makes you daydream.”

Before Fallon could speak, someone approached from behind. “Lucie, remember your training. Don't tell our customers such things.”

Lucie shrunk behind the counter. “Sorry.”

“Why don't you stock the love-letter stationery.” It wasn't a question.

After Lucie left her post, Fallon turned around to meet none other than Camille Simmons. She wore a pink-and-white uniform consisting of a tight dress and shiny silver shoes. Her name tag read
ASSISTANT MANAGER
. If beauty was a reason to like Camille, then Fallon could see why Martin had dated her for so long. Camille's hair was parted down the middle, long and straight as a pressed sheet. Her caramel skin seemed to glow, and her lips, always painted a shade of dark chocolate, drew admiring glances from boys. And she knew it.

“Can I help you?” Camille said in a bored tone.

“I need something to help with my fortune,” Fallon blurted.

Camille's lips twitched. “Let's look you up in the computer first.”

“You don't have to.”

“Protocol.”

Camille slipped behind the counter and asked for Fallon's name. She only knew who Camille was because Nico complained about her constantly, calling her his rival for Martin's affections. After a few moments, Camille paused over the keyboard. “Oh. Our shop can't sell you anything.”

“I don't understand.”

“Your love fortune can't be tampered with.” She shrugged. “We're saving you money, you know, by refusing to let you purchase something. Because it won't change anything.”

Fallon's legs turned to jelly.

Camille studied Fallon. Then she flashed a sympathetic smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “I'm not Zita, but here's some advice: if you want to be more attractive, there are magazines for that.”

 

chapter 2

PAMPHLET

Sweet butter waffles did nothing to raise Fallon's spirits. The doughy waffle got stuck in her throat, making it hard for her to swallow, and she had to stop between bites to wipe at her eyes.

“Maybe…” Anais said softly, biting off a chunk of waffle, “maybe
my
fortune isn't that great anyway.”

Nico snorted through his tears. “Don't be jealous.”

She punched him in the shoulder.

Fallon managed a smile as she watched them. After parting ways, she kept her head down as she walked through the streets, hoping that no one would notice her red cheeks and the damp handkerchief clenched in her fist.

The student housing complex was a welcome sight. The wide, stone building, framed by a low twisting fence, was split into twenty separate apartments for boarding students. Languishing potted plants populated the inner patio, where students could study under the stars. She unlatched the wooden gate and climbed up a small set of stairs to her apartment on the second floor. Wind blew in over the water—the coastline was only a few blocks away—and she could almost see the stretch of blue between the rooftops when she reached the top of the staircase.

“Why does the school year feel over already?” she asked the town.

A door opened on the first floor, revealing the caretaker, Mrs. Smedt, lugging a full trash bag.

Fallon sighed and let herself into her apartment.

Numerous antiques shop visits had allowed Fallon to decorate her white-walled apartment quickly. Her parents had bought her a complete set of expensive pots and pans, along with glassware and stainless-steel utensils. She'd also bought a tape player that would allow her to listen to the cassette tapes she'd smuggled from home; sometimes the radio wasn't enough. The vintage restaurant posters she'd hung up reminded her that restaurants existed in time and space that her parents hadn't investigated.

Fallon had saved room on the corkboard over her desk for Zita's fortune; it was already crowded with photos of her, Nico, and Anais pulling faces. Her fortune was still in her pocket, curled around the coupon she had been given during her morning walk. The thumbtack shook between her fingers as she pinned the ticker-tape fortune to the board. The coupon, useless now, was thrown in the trash. When her gaze landed on Robbie's wedding photo in the corner, her breath caught.

Robbie and his wife, Morgane, were so young in the photograph; he barely filled out his tux, and Morgane's bouquet looked too heavy for her thin wrists to hold. They had married the day after their high school graduation.

Fallon remembered starting middle school at the time, struggling to deal with the age difference between her and her brother. Until the wedding, it was easy to pretend that they weren't six years apart. He came home from Grimbaud High on vacations and captivated her with stories of living in the student complex and receiving Zita's love fortunes each year. Nothing had changed, until suddenly he grew a mustache and moved out after getting accepted to a two-year quality-control management program after graduating.

“I knew Morgane was the girl for me, thanks to Zita,” Robbie said at the wedding, evoking a few laughs. “My freshman year, I got a fortune that simply said:
Wear red.
”

The story always caused a lot of laughter and happy sighs. Eager to fall in love, Robbie followed Zita's instructions by buying tons of red shirts, inadvertently beginning his discovery of what kinds of clothing pilled or bled or broke too easily. The bright color came in handy one evening when he was studying on the patio. Morgane lost her glasses and was retracing her steps—an impossible feat when she could barely see an inch in front of her nose. She tumbled behind a potted plant, but was able to call Robbie for help because she saw the fuzzy tomato red of his shirt through the leaves.