Lulu Dark Can See Through Walls

by Bennett Madison

  Daisy wasn’t deterred. “Fiddler on the Roof? We still have our outfits from the musical.”

  “How about something less, you know, retarded,” Charlie suggested. Daisy scowled back at him.

  “Charlie’s sort of right,” I broke the news gently. “I think that it will be more suspicious, not less, if we show up on Alfy’s doorstep dressed like Cinderella and Snow White or Wilma Flintstone and Betty Rubble. It’s the difference between a costume and a disguise. It’s a subtle distinction, yet it exists.”

  Daisy didn’t like what she was hearing. “Well, what’s your suggestion, Shamus?”

  “We don’t need disguises at all. We’ll have the cover of night to cloak us.” I raised one eyebrow dramatically. “Let’s just stake out Alfy’s next concert, follow him home together, then force him to tell us the truth!”

  “Fine,” Daisy pouted. “The next concert is Thursday night.”

  “I’m in,” Charlie volunteered. “This espionage thing sounds like fun.”

  I beamed at Charlie. “Sometimes I forget how great you are,” I told him. I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a huge, wet kiss on the cheek. He just lay there, body stiff as a board.

  Daisy smiled at me knowingly, and I remembered how Genevieve had accused me of leading him on. I quickly released Charlie, sat up, and scooted to the other side of the bed. “Right, um . . .” I said, clearing my throat. “So, yeah, we’ll meet at the concert?”

  “Thursday night,” Charlie repeated.

  I recovered myself and smiled my wickedest smile. “Thursday night. Friends, we have a date.”

  I found Charlie and Daisy at the entrance to the Purple Unicorn—a popular club in the Milliney District. We bought tickets to the Many Handsomes show and eased our way inside. Soon after, Alfy and the rest of the band took the stage.

  With his dark eyes and ruffled hair, Alfy Romero looked as hot as ever. What a shame. For the second time I wondered why the bad guy always had to be such a fox.

  Alfy’s performance, however, was lackluster in comparison to the last one we’d attended. Maybe it was because I now knew there was something sinister about him.

  Anyway, the band picked that night (of all nights) to do an extended set of encores. As the night wore on, Daisy began to feel nervous.

  “You guys, I’m pushing curfew,” she said, glancing at her watch. “If Svenska finds me out late, it’s solitary confinement for sure.”

  “Don’t worry,” Charlie shouted above the band. “I’ll stay.”

  Daisy gave Charlie a peck on the cheek. “Thanks!” Then she turned to me, all seriousness. “You must call me first thing tomorrow. First thing! I want to know everything that happens. Promise?”

  As if I’d do anything else! I nodded and gave Daisy a hug before she made for the door.

  Half an hour later, when Alfy announced “the last song of the night,” Charlie and I slipped out. We walked around the club—to the back door in the alley—where we had a hunch Alfy would be exiting. Our instincts proved correct when he came sauntering out the door, still in his trademark T-shirt and torn jeans.

  “Hide!” Charlie whispered. We ducked into the shadows and waited for him to pass.

  A few seconds later the coast was clear. We both turned to see Alfy’s silhouetted figure under the streetlamps, safe in the distance. We followed him in the darkness.

  Alfy’s sense of direction wasn’t great.

  Musicians, I thought. They’re so willy-nilly. He wended his way through Halo City, taking his sweet time, hands jammed dreamily in his pockets and whistling one of his own songs. Guilt hadn’t touched this killer. He was happy about something—probably his own satisfaction with his evil deeds.

  There wasn’t much to do while we trailed him. Charlie and I ambled along easily, letting the cool spring air seep in through our pores, chatting about not much of anything.

  If there hadn’t been a mystery at hand, it would have been nice. Then I felt this little burst of glee in my chest over the simple fact of me and Charlie walking side by side, just the two of us.

  Maybe this was the time to clear the air about this whole Charlie-liking-me business. I was feeling bold and this seemed as good a situation as any.

  “I guess we need to talk,” I said.

  “I guess so,” he replied.

  “Genevieve told me some things,” I began.

  “Yeah?” His tone was neutral.

  “Yeah. And, well . . . I just want to say it would be a shame to ruin our friendship. But at the same time . . . I feel like . . . I don’t know. I really missed you when you weren’t talking to me.”

  He turned to me and gave me a shy smile. “Yeah, me too.”

  Charlie slid his hand into mine. For a second I was a little taken aback, and then I looked him in the eyes—they seemed bigger than ever. An unstoppable grin crept across my lips and I gave his hand a little squeeze. We kept walking, not saying anything, our arms swinging easy. I lifted my head up high and felt my back straighten. We walked in sync, our steps stretching a little farther than they did before.

  The Halo City skyline was reaching up all around us—nearly brushing against the smooth edge of the moon. Every problem I’d encountered suddenly felt so small.

  Yes, I thought, I can do this now. I am the Princess of Swords.

  Finally, deep in the Butcher District, Alfy stopped. He was about a block ahead of us and from where I stood, he seemed to be searching his pockets for his keys.

  “There!” I told Charlie. “That must be his place.”

  “Hurry!” he said, and we trotted ahead, trying not to look conspicuous. Meanwhile Alfy disappeared into the building.

  “Great,” I said. “What now?”

  “Well, now we know where he lives,” Charlie said. “We can come back tomorrow. Want to go to a diner and get something to eat?”

  “Come on, Charles. Don’t be such a slacker. We should stake the place out. We could see all sorts of suspicious things.”

  “A stakeout?” He perked up. I was appealing to his sense of adventure. He looked around, then smiled when his eyes landed on the Dumpster across the street.

  “Oh no,” I said, guessing his thoughts. “Charlie, I am not hiding in a Dumpster. That is so gross. There are probably rats and stuff in there. Not to mention annoying Dumpster divers.”

  “Dumpster divers are cool,” Charlie said. “Live a little.”

  I sighed. There wasn’t really anyplace else to hide, so I let him hoist me up into the pile of trash, praying that I wouldn’t land on some scavenging-activist type.

  Fortunately, this Dumpster was mostly full of construction garbage—Sheetrock, old boards, and stuff like that. Still, I was holding my nose prissily when Charlie jumped in and landed next to me.

  “This is so cool,” he said breathlessly. “I bet there’s all kinds of good finds in here.”

  “Charlie!” I said. “Let’s not kid ourselves here. You don’t need this trash.”

  “No, but it’s the principle,” he said, hurt.

  “Don’t let me get in the way of your fantasies of poverty,” I said.

  We stood, peeking out over the edge of the Dumpster. Alfy’s apartment stood there because, well, that’s what buildings do.

  “Okay,” Charlie said, after we had been staring for ages. “Let’s go get food now.”

  “Charlie,” I said. “You are never going to accomplish anything if you don’t improve your work ethic.” I was talking big talk, but I had to admit that my back was starting to hurt.

  “I guess we could sit down for a little bit, though,” I finally decided. “We’ll be able to hear if he comes out.”

  Charlie was almost mollified. He found a discarded, largely unstained foam mattress pad, which seemed suitable for sitting. I unclenched my fingers from my nose and found that the Dumpster didn’t actually smell. I perched on the mattress pad. Charlie settled down next to me and we sat in silence for a minute. Eventually he leaned back, half reclining, and I di
d the same. Our eyes were trained on the sky, but somehow my hand found his again.

  “So Charlie,” I said as we were staring up at the stars, which were frankly pretty damn beautiful. “This is a romantic scene. Alone in the Dumpster together. Intrigue and suspense . . .”

  I glanced over and saw him smirk puckishly. “What happens happens, right?” he said.

  “I guess so.” I shrugged. I raised my eyebrows hopefully. “So?”

  Charlie gave me a brave look. He started to lean in and I felt that thrilling tingle up my spine again. I let my eyes close and tilted my head back. . . .

  TWELVE

  SUDDENLY THERE WAS A yell from across the street. “Lulu!” It was a man’s voice. I bolted upright, leaving Charlie in the trash, lips still puckered, looking confused.

  Across the street, on the sidewalk in front of Alfy’s apartment, another romantic scene was taking place—between Alfy and . . . me!

  Or rather someone who looked like me, canoodling in the doorway with him.

  The girl’s brown hair was the same as mine. So were her glasses, and she was wearing my trademark hot pink cowboy boots! I was chilled to the bone. “Charlie,” I whispered urgently. “Look.”

  He pulled himself up to see what was going on. When he laid eyes on the girl across the street, who was now engaged in a hot and heavy smooching session with Alfy, he turned—stared at me—then turned back.

  “Lulu, that’s you!” he said.

  “No, it’s not. It’s just a cheap copy. But why is Alfy Romero’s girlfriend dressing up like me?”

  We continued watching them in their slobbery embrace until they went inside. I was so pissed. Not only did I have a doppelganger, but she had to be the one starting all the rumors about me. I wasn’t going to stand for it.

  We sat back down again. Charlie struggled to make sense of what he had just seen. “Maybe it’s some science-fiction thing,” he guessed. “Like a clone or something?”

  I gave an exasperated sigh. “Be real. I’m in more trouble than I thought, but I’m fairly certain there are no clones involved. Alfy and fake Lulu killed Berlin Silver, for whatever twisted reason, and now they’re impersonating me. But why?”

  “Maybe they’re trying to frame you for the crime,” Charlie ventured.

  I had to admit, it was a plausible theory. “We have to stay awake until they come out again so that we can see where they go,” I insisted.

  “Whatever you say,” Charlie replied, already yawning. He had stretched out on the mattress again and looked ready for a long nap.

  Fine, I’d take the first shift.

  I sat, kneeling by the edge of the Dumpster—gazing at Alfy’s darkened building—waiting.

  After a few minutes I could hear Charlie snoring next to me. He certainly had dropped off quickly. I wondered if he was annoyed about our interrupted kiss. From the look of things, he seemed not to care. He was curled in a tight little ball with his elbow shielding his eyes and his mouth hanging half open.

  Like I said before, Charlie Reed is the most oblivious person I know.

  I was awakened by the mid-morning sun pushing through my closed eyelids and what felt like a tin can jabbing into the small of my back. When I rolled over and opened my eyes, I saw Charlie lying next to me, still sound asleep.

  I laughed. Here we were, sleeping side by side . . . in a Dumpster. Charlie would probably find it all very wild and romantic when he woke up, just like that time he and Lila Simmons snuck into the reptile house at the zoo.

  It was still kind of hard to believe that we’d actually almost kissed. Close call!

  Checking the clock on my cell phone, I was dismayed to realize that it was practically eleven in the morning. Fantastic. Not only had I had a terrible, stinky night’s sleep, but I was sure I’d missed seeing fake Lulu leaving the apartment building.

  I tried to be circumspect. At least I had learned of fake Lulu’s existence, and although it didn’t make sense yet, it was another important piece in the puzzle. I hadn’t solved this mystery by a long shot, but some of the nagging loose ends were starting to tie themselves up.

  For example, the wild rumors I’d been suffering through were obviously a product of this fake Lulu gallivanting around town. Perhaps she was even responsible for that strange phone call the other night. Whoever she was, she’d live to regret it.

  “Charlie,” I whispered, reaching over to shake him. He didn’t budge, just let out another huge snore. “Charlie!” I said more urgently. I pinched him.

  He eased his eyes open. “Hey,” he croaked with a smile. “What’s up?”

  “Time to rise and shine,” I said. “We need to get out of this Dumpster. It’s disgusting.”

  “I’m going to nap a little longer,” he said groggily. “You go on ahead.”

  “You can find your own way home?”

  “Of course.” He closed his eyes again and was instantly snoring.

  Well. If he was enjoying his slumber, there was no reason for me to disturb it. For my part, I was getting out of this glorified trash can as quickly as possible.

  I did a pathetic chin-up on the edge of the Dumpster and threw my leg over the side. I hung there for a minute, stuck, before I managed to pull my other leg up and swing over the side. Still off balance from sleep, I landed on my hands and knees on the asphalt below. This morning was not getting off to a good start.

  And it was a school day—the middle of a school day, in fact. At least Dad was out of town, so I didn’t need to steer clear of the apartment on my illegal day off.

  I did a quick mental calculation and figured out that it was approximately fourth period at school. Daisy would be in study hall. I buzzed her.

  “Hey, you little absentee,” she answered after one ring. “What happened last night?”

  I gave her the highlights of the evening, leaving out the part about almost kissing Charlie. She would find out about that in due time—and there were more important matters at hand.

  “You have an impersonator!” she exclaimed. “That makes so much sense. I can’t believe we didn’t think of it before.”

  “Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “It should have been like so obvious.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I might just go home and take a nap.”

  “Don’t do that,” Daisy said breathlessly. “This is too exciting. I wish I had come with you last night. It sounds like it was crazy.”

  “That’s one word for it,” I told her. “But what else am I supposed to do? I don’t know where to find fake Lulu.”

  “Let me come meet you,” she said. “We’ll figure it out from there.”

  “You’re going to skip precalc?”

  “Yeah, I’m so broken up over it. Whatever; Ms. Cook loves me. I compliment her outfit every day with these exact situations in mind. You know she’ll let me bounce.”

  “Fine. I’ll meet you at the Spier Avenue subway in twenty minutes,” I said. “I’m so there.”

  Realizing I looked like death, I ducked into the bathroom of the nearest restaurant and attempted to spruce myself up. Unfortunately I was without my usual grooming products. But a little water and dispenser soap, along with some brown paper towels, are always enough in a pinch. Looking in the mirror, I decided that the best I’d be able to do was work the dirty, careless punk look. So I combed my fingers through my hair, washed my face, and adjusted the wayward bits of my outfit. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

  It’s funny. I had been so spazzy for days, constantly fearful for my life, et cetera, but that morning, when I hung up with Daisy, I was feeling truly excellent. The sun was shining perkily, the birds were in full opera, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I don’t know what it was—maybe just the good weather and the bustle of the old-fashioned Butcher District streets—or the fact that I finally felt like I was making progress. Or a day off from school, a balmy morning. Or the idea that I was young and full of promise . . .


  Okay, so maybe it was Charlie. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every time I remembered that moment in the Dumpster—the moment where he was about to kiss me—I got a warm feeling all over. What was coming over me?

  Suddenly I realized that without even knowing it, I was grinning madly. I did my best to stifle my smile, even going so far as to clap my hand over my mouth. After all, I didn’t want people thinking I was some simpleminded tourist or something.

  Things between us were still totally hazy, nothing had actually happened yet, and I still had my reservations, but despite everything I was on top of the world.

  No one was going to kill me, I felt sure. Maybe they would try. But it wasn’t going to happen. I was Lulu Dark. I was the Princess of Swords. Unstoppable.

  I was still fighting my smile when I reached the subway. My stomach gave a growl. Daisy and I would have to go get something to eat before we did anything else. I took the stairs to the station two at a time, swiped my card, and walked to the edge of the platform to await Daisy’s arrival.

  I was standing there, back against a beam, whistling to myself and twirling a lock of hair around my pinky finger, when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  I turned to greet my friend. “Hey, Daisy, I—”

  I stopped short. It wasn’t Daisy standing in front of me. It was the anti-Lulu! She snarled and faced me head-on, wearing my very own sunglasses and pink cowboy boots. A Pucci scarf identical to the one I’d used over the weekend was tied in her brown hair. How had she found me? How much of her life did she waste following me?

  I craned my neck, wildly searching for an exit route, or someone who could help me, but before I could do anything, the girl lunged toward me. She grabbed my wrists violently. I could feel her nails digging in.

  My knees were shaking, but I knew better than to show my fear. “Get your hands off me, you cheap look-alike!” I yelped, trying to sound forceful as opposed to frightened.

  “Save it,” she hissed. It was the same voice as that of the mysterious phone caller. An imitation of my own. I struggled, pushing my arms, trying with all my strength to break free of her hold, but she only tightened her grip. “I want my purse back. Where is it?”