The Useless Hex

Of course, Leo Matsuda sat two tables away, being all... nice to people. It was disgusting.

I stabbed my mystery meat with more force than necessary and tried not to watch him help some clueless first-year find the bathroom. Again. Did he have some kind of radar for lost underclassmen? And why did he always look so genuinely happy to help?

"Ugh." The sound escaped before I could stop it.

"What's wrong with you?" Yuki asked, not looking up from her phone.

"Nothing's wrong with me. Everything's wrong with this cafeteria." I gestured at the flickering fluorescent lights above us. "This place falls apart more every day."

Sakura Heights High School looked like someone had decorated it and given up halfway through. The plastic tables had scratches beyond recognition, half the vending machines ate your coins, and there was a suspicious stain on the ceiling that kept growing despite the janitor's best efforts.

Honestly? The real problem was Leo Matsuda's annoying face.

He wasn't even that good-looking. Just... normal. Brown hair that was always neat, a friendly smile, medium build. Nothing special. So why did I keep noticing when he rolled up his sleeves in chemistry class? Or when he offered his eraser to people who forgot theirs?

Stop it. I took another vicious bite of whatever this meat pretended to be.

"Oh no," Yuki said, finally looking up. "You're making the face."

"What face?"

"The 'I'm annoyed at Leo Matsuda for existing' face. You realize you're completely obvious, right?"

My chopsticks clattered to the table. "I am not—"

"There! You're doing it again!"

I wanted to argue, but Leo chose that exact moment to notice the first-year kid dropped his lunch money. Immediately, he dug into his pocket and handed over enough coins for a meal. The kid's face just beamed like Leo saved Christmas.

My stomach did this strange flip thing that I absolutely refused to acknowledge.

"I hate this place," I muttered.

The breaking point came during sixth-period Literature.

Mrs. Sato droned on about symbolism in classical poetry when she asked us to analyze a particularly dense passage. Most of the class stared blankly at their books, but I read the assignment last night. I raised my hand.

"The cherry blossoms represent the fleeting nature of beauty and life," I said. "But they're also about finding meaning in temporary things. The poet isn't just being sad about flowers dying—he's saying that impermanence makes beauty more precious, not less."

Mrs. Sato nodded approvingly. "Perfect analysis, Tanaka. That's the kind of deeper thinking this piece requires."

I should have felt satisfied. I did feel satisfied. Until Leo turned around in his seat two rows ahead and gave me this look. Not the polite smile he gave everyone else. Something warmer. More... interested?

"That's really insightful," he said quietly. "I never thought about it that way."

My brain just... stopped working.

"I—whatever. It's just obvious if you actually read it." The words came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn't take them back now.

His expression shifted slightly. Not hurt, exactly, but, maybe, disappointed? Great. Now I felt terrible and flustered.

The rest of the class passed while I overthought everything. Why did he look at me like that? Why did I care? And why did he suddenly pay attention to what I wrote anyway?

By the time the final bell rang, I'd made a decision.

Leo Matsuda needed to learn what happened when he messed with me.

*****

The internet turned out to be a terrible place to learn about voodoo.

I was sprawled on my bedroom floor with my laptop, scrolling through the sketchiest websites I'd ever seen. Half of them tried to sell me "authentic" curse kits for $39.99, and the other half looked like middle schoolers designed them in 2003.

But I was desperate.

Ancient Curses for Modern Problems promised to teach me "the time-honored art of doll magic." The website had spinning skulls and a background that hurt my eyes, but the instructions looked detailed enough.

According to this highly questionable source, I needed three things: something from the target's body (hair worked best), something they'd touched regularly (clothing preferred), and something of my own to "bind our fates together."

I slammed the laptop shut. This was insane.

But Leo's stupid, concerned face kept flashing through my mind. The way he looked when I snapped at him. Like he actually cared about my opinion, and I just... threw it back at him.

Fine. If he wanted to notice me, I'd give him something to notice.

*****

Getting the materials took three days of careful planning.

The hair came easily. Leo had this habit of running his fingers through it when he was thinking, and Wednesday morning in math class provided the perfect opportunity. I "accidentally" dropped my eraser near his desk and bumped into him while picking it up.

"Sorry," I mumbled, palming the few brown strands that caught on my sleeve.

"No problem," he said, and there was that warm tone again. Like he was actually happy I was talking to him.

My face got hot. "Whatever."

The button required more creativity. Leo always hung his uniform jacket on the back of his chair during lunch, and on Friday, I managed to snag one of the spare buttons near the bottom hem. It was small and dark blue, nothing he'd miss.

The hardest part meant admitting what I needed to sacrifice of my own.

My old pajama shirt. It was soft cotton, faded from years of washing, with tiny cherry blossoms printed on pale pink fabric. I'd had it since middle school.

This counts as a good cause, I told myself. Teaching him a lesson totally justifies sacrificing one old shirt.

I cut a square from the back where it wouldn't show if I ever wore it again. Which I probably wouldn't, because this whole thing was ridiculous and I was definitely not getting attached to the stupid doll I was about to make.

The creation process turned out surprisingly meditative.

Following the questionable online instructions, I stuffed the fabric with cotton balls and a handful of rice for "grounding energy." The hair got sewn into the top for a truly pathetic attempt at Leo's hairstyle. The button became one eye, with a spare black button from my sewing kit as the other.

By midnight, I was holding a lumpy, lopsided doll that looked like a five-year-old with coordination problems had made it.

"Perfect," I said to my empty room. "Now he'll see what happens when he messes with me."

The plan seemed simple: small, harmless accidents. Maybe he'd trip in the hallway. Spill his milk at lunch. Get his locker stuck. Nothing serious, just enough to make him think twice about... whatever it was he'd been doing.

*****

Monday morning, I was practically vibrating with anticipation.

First period: I mentally commanded the doll to make Leo drop his pencil. Nothing happened.

Second period: I focused really hard on making him get his locker stuck. He opened on the first try.

Lunch: I concentrated on spilling his milk while he wasn't looking. He drank the entire carton without incident.

By the end of the day, I was ready to throw the stupid doll in the trash.

"Useless internet tutorials," I muttered, shoving books into my backpack. "I should have known better."

"Hey, Rika?"

I froze. Leo stood beside my desk, looking different somehow. More focused. Like he'd been thinking about something important.

"You okay? You seemed kind of, hm, I don't know, I'm distracted today."

The concern in his voice caught me off guard. When did he start noticing my moods?

"I'm fine," I said automatically. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"

"Just checking." He adjusted his backpack strap, not quite meeting my eyes. "I was wondering... would you maybe want to walk to the bus stop together? I mean, we go the same direction anyway, and..."

He trailed off, cheeks slightly pink.

My brain malfunctioned.

"I—Sure. I guess. If you want to. Whatever."

His face lit up with this ridiculous happy glow.

What just happened?

Walking through the hallway together, dodging other students and broken ceiling tiles, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between us. Leo kept glancing at me when he thought I wasn't looking, and there was this weird energy between us that wasn't there last week.

But that was impossible. The doll didn't work. I tested it all day.

Right?

Just a coincidence. Had to be.