Lost in London

by Callaghan, Cindy

  “Yes, that is perfect for you,” Ellie whispered very loudly across the store. I looked at a rack of sunglasses, touched a few, and chose a pair. “Yes,” she hissed again. She could whisper pretty loudly. “Those shades would be perfect for you.”

  “You can stop whispering,” I said across the small boutique.

  “Oh, good. I didn’t like it.”

  The sunglasses were like two postage-stamp-size lenses held together by a thin metal frame.

  “Really? You like these?” I put them on.

  “Totally bohemian,” she said. She added a feathery scarf and wrapped it around my neck several times.

  Caroline had tucked her hair under a red French beret, put on a well-worn denim jacket, lifted the collar up to cover the bottom of her face, and added her big white sunglasses with the rhinestones that she already had in her purse.

  Ellie slid a credit card across the counter; it amazed me the way these girls could charge stuff. Before we left the boutique, something caught my eye. A woman working there was piercing a little girl’s ears. The little girl was squeezing her eyes shut and hugging a stuffed bear into her belly, when there was a POP! The store lady shot an earring into her ear with a handheld gun gadget.

  “Are you done?” the little girl asked.

  “All done. That didn’t hurt, did it?”

  “No, uh-uh.”

  If she could do it, so could I. I’d never be able to get the second hole at home.

  “Wait!” I called to Ellie and Caroline. Then I asked the store lady, “How fast can you give me second holes?”

  The store lady popped her gun. “Less than a second per ear.”

  I sat and pointed to a pair of earrings. The little girl handed me her bear. The store lady loaded the gun, and POP! She reloaded, and POP! And I was done.

  On the sidewalk Ellie touched my back and my sides, and patted my purse. “What are you doing?” I asked as she did the same thing to Caroline.

  “Just making sure you didn’t steal anything from that nice little store,” she teased.

  “Oh MIIIIIIGod! Do you listen?” Caroline asked.

  • • •

  A few minutes later, after Gordo oohed and aahed over my earrings and our disguises, we entered Madame Tussauds on the lush carpet and followed the path to the first display—a random selection of US presidents.

  Ellie stared. “Blimey! They look so real. I want to kiss one of them.”

  “NO KISSING!” a voice behind us bellowed.

  A figure stood perfectly still in the corner. Ellie walked toward her. “She looks like an actual person.” Ellie moved her face very close to the guard’s to examine her.

  “I AM a real person,” the guard said, shocking Ellie so much that she fell to the ground.

  She stood up and rubbed her butt. “That hurt,” she said.

  After I took a picture of the guard, we moved to the next display. It was the cast of Bloodsucking Zombies, dressed up like they were at an awards show.

  Ellie said, “I just love them. I wish they were here right now, because I want to meet them.”

  “Me too,” Caroline said. She continued to lead the way past countless wax celebrities. She stopped at a display of people I didn’t recognize. It was a group of ladies from Victorian times standing in front of Madame Tussauds in the evening. The wax lampposts looked like they were lit with oil, and the sidewalk appeared to be cobblestone.

  Caroline’s mouth hung open. “Their dresses are incredible.”

  Gordo read a plaque that was just inside a velvet rope keeping us back far enough so our breath wouldn’t touch the figures. “Says here that these gowns are all handmade. Guess who made them?”

  “Who?” Sam asked, chewing a soft pretzel that had materialized in his hand.

  “Daphne,” Caroline guessed.

  “Yup,” Sam said. “It says that she started her fashion empire by first hand-sewing party dresses that she sold at the front of Madame Tussauds. Then she was hired as the official seamstress of the museum. Her dresses became so popular that she expanded her business and it continued to grow. Her wax likeness is in the next hall.”

  “Let’s see it,” Ellie said.

  “Can we get a photo first?” I asked.

  Sam nudged me. “Manchester.”

  “I dare say,” I said. “Might we snap a photo in front of these dear mannequins?”

  Sam wiped the longish hairs out of his face. “Um, we’ll work on that.”

  We passed several displays until we got to one of a young Daphne, who was plainly dressed, no makeup. She held a little girl’s party dress in each hand—one red, one blue. They were elaborately decorated with every embellishment imaginable—beads, sequins, and lace. The plaque said, MS. DAPHNE WHITWORTH, FUTURE PRESIDENT AND CEO OF DAPHNE’S.

  “She looks so ordinary. I expected someone far more chic,” Caroline said. “You know, my dad knew her before she died. Her daughter is in charge of the store now. My stepmum claims to be her yoga friend, but I don’t believe her.”

  Gordo said, “It’s possible. My mum knows her. Her name is Sophie.”

  “Here’s a picture of her.” Sam held out his phone.

  We all looked over his shoulder. “I think I’m in love,” Gordo said.

  “Me too,” I almost said. She was dressed casually, in jeans and cute sneakers. She was a natural beauty. Of all the fashion looks I’d seen so far in London, this was my favorite. It was like she wasn’t even trying to be beautiful. She just was. That was exactly the style of pretty I wanted to be.

  Gordo stared at the phone’s screen. “Sophie Whitworth. I’d love to meet her!”

  “So would I,” Caroline said. “My dad, as you know, has connections, and he hasn’t ever been able to get us a meeting. She leads a very private life.”

  “If your faces get identified from the surveillance cameras, you might be meeting her,” Sam said.

  “Where are we going now?” Ellie asked. “All I want to do is soak my tired tootsies in a hot tub and get my toes done.”

  “Sounds good,” Gordo said.

  “Oui,” Caroline said. “Let’s do that.”

  I had never actually had my toes done. If this was a week of adventure, maybe I should be open to exploring the concept of pretty toes to match my new look.

  “What about Pluto?” Ellie asked.

  “We can work on it there while our toes are drying,” Gordo said.

  “I know the perfect place,” Caroline said. “No one will recognize us. J.J., you are going to LOVE this.”

  Something strange, and wonderful, had happened over the last two days. Was Caroline finally starting to care about making sure I had a good time? I didn’t know what that stuff was that she’d said to Ellie, but thanks to our adventure in Daphne’s, maybe she was finally starting to like me.

  20

  We arrived at Salon London. It was a simple shop with three mani stations and three pedi chairs. The windows were covered with heavy, dusty drapes. Incense sticks burned on the floor next to a little Buddha statue. We were the only customers in the place.

  Sam said, “I think I’m gonna go find a sandwich.”

  “What?” Gordo asked. “You’re not going to get your feet soaked?”

  “I’ll pass,” he said. “J.J., do you want to go look for a sandwich with me?”

  “Actually,” I said, “I’d like to check this out.”

  “Fine, I’ll get you some chips. These girls will go all day without eating. And I’m including Gordo in that statement.”

  “I heard that!” Gordo said with a smile.

  A man came out and gestured to the chairs. Before long, Caroline and I were soaking our feet. Ellie and Gordo were nearby with their fingers dangling in bowls of soapy water. I didn’t realize how tired my feet were until a small woman wearing long false eyelashes started rubbing them. It felt heavenly. Now I knew why Ellie wanted to do this.

  Another woman walked around carrying a selection of nail polish colors. I chos
e a light pink. Caroline casually shook her head. I chose again—red—and showed it to her for her approval. She shook her head again. This went on until I held up a dark blue.

  She chose gold, and Ellie black. Gordo was going with clear.

  After an amazing foot massage with scented lotion, I sat with my feet under a fan. Caroline switched places with Gordo. I opted to skip the manicure because I was starting to worry about money, and I didn’t think I could sell this to my mom and dad as an emergency. I flipped through a magazine until Sam returned. He held a grease-stained paper bag.

  “Chips,” he said.

  I opened the bag. It was filled with french fries. “What’s on them?”

  “Salt and vinegar.”

  It didn’t sound good, but I was hungry and I had mentally declared that I was going to give everything a try. . . . Well, not anything raw or gross.

  Hesitantly I tried one.

  “Quite good, eh?” Sam asked.

  “It is. Thanks.”

  He sat next to me and looked at my toes. “Blue?”

  “Caroline picked it out. Do you like it?”

  He shrugged in a way that said I don’t really care but I want to be polite, so: “Sure.”

  “How are we on today’s word count for Sebastian’s paper?”

  “Still about eighty short.”

  “We can do that in no time,” I said.

  He reached into his back pocket for a rolled-up bunch of paper. “Be my guest. You just tell me what to type.”

  I scanned the pages for another tidbit or two about Pluto’s composition. That was all we really needed for eighty words. “How about the idea that Pluto is one of thousands of objects that make up a ring far, far away from the sun. Pluto is the largest of these objects that form a belt in the universe.”

  He typed. “Okay, that’s good.” He tapped more words than I had said, obviously trying to stretch it out to eighty words. “Almost there,” he said.

  “Okay, use this. ‘It is similar in composition to the other objects in the belt.’ And ‘made mostly of ice.’ You have to footnote that section with this reference.” I pointed to the website name on the paper.

  “Read it to me,” he said.

  I gave him the website information that was in the top margin of the paper.

  “Perfect. Done.” He sent the pages. “The little poop gets it early today.”

  The footnote gave me an idea. “Are you making a bibliography?”

  “Yes. Of course. Don’t you use bibliographies in America?”

  “Duh. Yes. But that just gave me an idea of how we might be able to rat out Sebastian.” I explained my idea to Sam.

  “I like it,” he said.

  “Do you think we can do it?”

  “Maybe,” he said. He reached into my chip bag and put a handful into his mouth at once. I took some too but only ate one at a time.

  “How many places are left on your list?” Gordo asked me.

  “I want to see the Royal Mews, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, the London Dungeon, the Changing of the Guard, and Saint Paul’s Cathedral.”

  Caroline called over from the pedicure chair, “Isn’t that a little ambitious for three days?”

  “We have nights, too,” Sam said.

  I excused myself to use the ladies’ room. I left the bathroom door open a crack while I washed and dried my hands. I could see Caroline and Ellie in a serious conversation. Caroline’s back was to me, but I could see her using her arms to talk.

  I heard her saying, “. . . so we’re spending our entire week standing in queues. Could it get any more boring? I swear that if Stepmum hadn’t promised me a trip to Jamaica as long as J.J. had a great time, I’d bag this whole thing. You know the Mash-Up concert is tonight? And we’re not going to it. I mean, really? I am bored out of my blooming mind!”

  Caroline had just confirmed all of my greatest fears. I suddenly felt like an imposition and a bother. Worst of all, my de-bored-ification plan clearly wasn’t working.

  21

  Ellie looked over Caroline’s shoulder and noticed me.

  “Is that true?” I asked angrily. I held back the tears that were coming. I did NOT want her to see me cry. I couldn’t believe that I’d thought she’d actually been having fun. I’d totally fallen for her act. She didn’t want to be doing any of this, and she didn’t like me. She was pretending in exchange for a trip to Jamaica.

  Caroline turned around.

  I said, “I mean, is it true for all of you?” Ellie was staring at the floor, Gordo dried his nails, and Sam ate a black and white cookie that he’d gotten from somewhere. I didn’t know where, but I wished I had one.

  “Have you all been promised something in exchange for hanging out with me? Would you all rather be doing something else?”

  “Of course not. I’m having a crackin’ time,” Gordo said. Then he looked at Caroline. “Although, I don’t much care for standing in queues.”

  Sam licked a finger and tossed me a bag. “I think you know how I feel about shopping and salons. I actually quite prefer the sights.” He looked at Caroline. “The queues don’t bother me.”

  Ellie studied her feet.

  “Ellie?” I asked.

  “I like the sights, and I also like getting my nails done. I liked the zombie picture, and I also liked hearing about Anne Boleyn. Can I just say that I like it all?”

  Her indifference clearly annoyed Caroline, who huffed. She sucked in a breath like she was about to explain herself, but I didn’t want to hear it.

  I stormed out of the salon. When my feet hit the cold sidewalk, I realized that I was barefoot. And I didn’t know where to go. My mind raced through the last few days: the whispers when she talked to Stepmummy, making sure I smiled big, agreeing to do stuff that I knew she didn’t want to.

  I contemplated jumping on a red hop-on, hop-off bus destined for somewhere—anywhere—but I realized I didn’t have my new fancy purse either. I wasn’t going anywhere except back into that salon.

  Maybe the old Jordan would run away, but J.J. wasn’t going to, although I really wanted to. I was going to find a way to make this week memorable for Caroline, whether she liked it or not. If being blackmailed by Sebastian and potentially chased by the police wasn’t enough, I really didn’t know how to take things up a notch on the exciting scale.

  “J.J.!” someone yelled. It took me a minute to realize he was talking to me. I turned to see Sam jogging down the street after me. “Hey!” he said. “I think you forgot something. You can’t go far without these.” He held up my shoes and purse.

  I slipped my shoes onto my feet and instantly felt the polish smear. So much for having pretty toes.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “No biggie. But I have something else that might help.”

  I opened the bag and found a black and white cookie. “Oh, this is so great. Thanks.” I wiped a tear out of the corner of my eye. “She’s a terrible person, right?”

  “If I thought that, I wouldn’t hang out with her. I think she’s trapped inside the body of someone who started acting like a terrible person a long time ago, and now she can’t get away from it. If you notice sometimes, she forgets to put on the act and she’s totally normal.”

  “I thought she liked me when we were at Daphne’s. I mean, we had an awesome night.”

  “Maybe we all pretend to be someone we’re not sometimes,” he said. “You think Gordo likes going out to watch football and eat wings with me? No, he’d rather be at a museum or reading or something, but he acts like a sports fan when we do that.”

  I thought about how I was pretending to be someone that I wasn’t. “I guess I get that.”

  “And even though she told Ellie that she was tired of standing in queues, I don’t believe it. You can’t tell me that she didn’t like seeing the Crown Jewels, or the Daphne dresses at Madame Tussauds. She’s not that good an actress. That was real.” He was still holding my purse. He swung it over his shoulder and pushed out
his hip. “How about we skip the rest of the salon activities and make a run to Buck-P.”

  “Buck-P?”

  “Yes, the palace. As in Buckingham,” Sam said. “Or we could go to the London Dungeon, but that’s really more fun after dark.”

  The mention of the London Dungeon gave me an idea, an exciting, fun, and totally un-boring idea that would get even with Caroline for making me feel like a joke. I would play a good one on her. As we walked to the bus stop, I explained it to Sam.

  “You’re so creative. First you have an idea to nail Sebastian and now a plan to prove to Caroline just how much fun an American exchange student can be?” He picked up his finger-phone. “Can I talk to the man with the plan? Sorry, I meant woman with the plan. Oh, never mind. She’s right here.” He actually said “Click” as he hung up his fingers. “It takes the biscuit.”

  I was pretty sure that was a biscuit I wanted to take.

  Sam knew exactly which bus to get on and led me up the staircase inside. The second floor of the bus was open like a convertible, no roof. Sam chose a seat near the front, and I sat next to him. He handed me a little plastic bag of earphones. “Might as well have some fun on the way,” he explained.

  Sam opened his bag and plugged the earphones into a hole in the seat in front of us. I did the same and suddenly heard a British voice telling me about the streets we were driving through.

  We went through an intersection that the voice said was called Piccadilly Circus, which wasn’t a circus at all. It was just an intersection where a bunch of streets came together. How can they do that? Call it a circus when it isn’t?

  Whoever named it had done a really bad job.

  We passed the Marble Arch, which is a white marble monument on a large traffic island. A long time ago it stood in front of Buckingham Palace. Historically, only members of the royal family were allowed to pass through the arch in ceremonial processions. But now it’s out for everyone. At least that’s what the voice in my ears said.

  Right before we hopped off the bus at “Buck-P,” I noticed an Internet café. I made a mental note about the location because we needed to go there to plant the seeds needed to nail Sebastian. But there was one biggie of a problem with that plan. I needed someone who could build a website.