Free Love Fortunes and Other Disasters by Kimberly Karalius

expect high quality. But Fallon wasn’t so sure. Price was an old trick. What would Robbie think of these clothes? With just one look, her brother would know which blouse was cheap and which pencil skirt was quality.
    Since school had cleared out hours ago, Fallon didn’t shy away from reading the magazine in plain sight. No one was around, save for a janitor mopping the floor at the other end of the hallway. With the door to the round room locked, Fallon had made do by sitting on the damp, newly cleaned floor.
    The round room had been named after its donut-shaped interior, reserved only for special presentations or student government functions. Three rows of wooden tables situated in stadium seating surrounded the middle of the room where guest speakers took advantage of the great acoustics. She could understand why the administration wouldn’t let students wear down the furnishings with everyday use.
    â€œAre you here for the student government meeting?” asked Martin, walking towards her. Being the student government president gave him the privilege of using the spare key.
    Fallon shoved the magazine in her bag. “Yes.”
    â€œFirst one here,” he said, almost sadly. But then, none of the officers were there with him.
    â€œWhere’s Nico?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œNicolas Barnes.”
    â€œOh.” Martin’s confusion gave way to a smile. “Sorry. I didn’t know he had a nickname. Nicolas said he’d pick up coffee for the officers. He didn’t have to. That’s very kind of him.”
    Not even the teachers called him Nicolas. Fallon bit back a laugh. “You should call him Nico, if you can. Everyone does.”
    Martin scratched the back of his neck. “Are you his friend?”
    She nodded. “Fallon Dupree. I’m representing the charm-making club.”
    â€œYou don’t look familiar,” Martin said. He unlocked the door. “Is this your first meeting?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen you’ll learn that everyone dreads these meetings. Even the officers. I try my best, but I can’t seem to make them any less dull,” he said.
    She glanced at the clock in the hall. Almost seven.
    â€œThey’ll trickle in late.”
    After Martin flicked the light switch, a dozen fluorescent lights buzzed to life. The round room smelled musty, a comfortable scent mingled with lemon cleaner. Photographs of Grimbaud High students from long past covered the back walls. Skylights, useless at night, revealed the darkening sky. Fallon took a seat in the front row and opened to a clean page in her notebook. Martin claimed the podium and unpacked his papers.
    After ten minutes, students began filling the room. Conversations echoed. Officers shook hands and sat at the desk beside the podium.
    Martin took off his thick-framed glasses and wiped them with his shirt. Since the room was already too loud, he turned on the microphone and warned everyone that the meeting would start in five minutes.
    â€œCoffee’s here!” Nico said, lugging a brown paper case with six coffees. He caught Fallon’s eye on the walk down to the podium and flashed a nervous grin.
    With only a few empty seats here and there, she worried that Sebastian would have to sit on the floor. Where was he? She didn’t think he was prone to being late, except perhaps for dramatic effect, but no one would be paying attention to him at this meeting. Too many clubs. Fallon turned in her seat and scanned the two rows behind her.
    Sebastian sat in the last row near the door. He frowned deeply, as if she were the one who was late, and gestured to the empty chair beside him.
    No way , Fallon thought. Why sit in the back when she had a perfectly good view of the officers? The seat to her right wasn’t yet taken, so she pointed at it and then at him.
    Sebastian mouthed, “I don’t do front rows,” and sat back in his chair.
    â€œYou’d better