Love Charms and Other Catastrophes Read Free Page B

ribbon.
    â€œAre you Hijiri Kitamura?” said a muffled voice from inside the box.
    A squeak escaped Hijiri’s mouth as she jumped away from the box. Her heart beat wildly.
    â€œ Are you?”
    â€œY-yes?”
    â€œThat sounded like a question,” the voice said, amused. “Can I come out now?”
    She wasn’t sure if she wanted a talking thing in a box to ever come out. She couldn’t say anything, but her sharp intake of breath must have been enough.
    The box trembled as the something in the inside pushed. The ribbon fell away. The top flaps opened with a loud tear of tape and wrapping paper.
    A boy stepped out of the box.

 
    Chapter 2
    MADE WITH LOVE
    Hijiri’s heart roared in her ears, making it hard to think. A boy just stepped out of that box. A living, breathing boy , she thought. Or is he? Nothing was making sense.
    The boy had ink-black hair like a duckling, soft and wild on the top of his head, while flat against his cheeks in front of his ears. He had narrow shoulders and a sharp chin, softened by full lips. He’s certainly thin enough to have fit inside the box , she thought with some worry. The dusky rose coat and white shirt he wore hung off of him.
    â€œHow do you know who I am?” Hijiri asked. “Who are you?”
    The boy’s dark eyes roamed her face. “I’m a gift.”
    â€œI see that,” Hijiri said, taking in the torn wrapping paper and the ribbon draped around his neck like a scarf. There was confetti too. From inside the box. Pieces of it stuck to his clothes and skin.
    Hot wind blew across the complex, momentarily blinding Hijiri. She shielded her eyes with her hand. With the wind came a man finishing the last bites of a chocolate-drizzled waffle. Grayed at the temples with pressed khakis, a sweater vest, and owlishly round glasses, the man looked like an academic.
    â€œHello, Hijiri,” the man said, licking a drop of chocolate off his thumb. The key around his neck told her exactly who he was.
    â€œHello, Love,” she said with a smile.
    Love put his arm around the boy like a proud parent. “Allow me to introduce you to Kentaro Oshiro. He’s starting school here. A transfer student. Your age. Please be kind to him,” he said, “because I created him just for you.”
    â€œKen,” the boy corrected, holding his hand out to her.
    Hijiri blinked. Without thinking, she shook hands with him. His grip was firm, his hand swallowing hers.
    â€œGo on, admire my handiwork,” Love said, gesturing at Ken. “I’m sure you’ll find him to your taste. I can already sense your heart beating a little harder.”
    â€œYou made him,” Hijiri whispered.
    Love nodded.
    â€œFor me?” If her stomach had twisted at news of the competition, this pain was much worse: her insides hollowed out, anxiety ricocheting against the lining.
    Throughout the exchange, Ken’s eyes never left hers. The pleasant smile he wore morphed into a concerned frown. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for her again.
    Hijiri flinched and stepped back. “He’s a charm,” she said, staring at the boy’s feet. “He’s just a charm, and you want me to accept him as my boyfriend?”
    Love crossed his arms. “You know, I don’t do this for just anyone. Most people spend their entire lives searching for their true loves. I’m simply giving you yours now. It’s a present. Clever, right?” He picked up a scrap of wrapping paper and waved it at her. “I’ve been keeping my eye on you since Zita’s fall. You seem to be having a difficult time with love.”
    â€œMy charms are coming out just fine,” she snapped.
    â€œNot charms. I mean your love life.”
    Heat crawled up her cheeks. She was about to say it was none of his business, but that wasn’t true. He was Love, the very essence of it in a physical form, and getting on his bad side