Lulu Dark Can See Through Walls

by Bennett Madison

The late May air was perfect. There’s nothing like a warm night with a blue sky. Full moon. Bright stars. Et cetera.

  We stood there, surveying the busy street below us. Charlie pulled out a cigarette and moved to light it. Before he could, I knocked it out of his hand. He watched it fall to the sidewalk in dismay.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “Come on, Charles. It’s so not suave. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you look like Bea Arthur when you smoke?”

  “I don’t even know who Bea Arthur is,” he grumbled. He turned up his nose, but he didn’t light another one.

  I pressed my palms against the wrought iron railing, pushing myself up onto tiptoe, and leaned out as far as I could over the edge.

  “School’s over in a week,” I said. “Summer is almost here. The possibilities are, like, so endless.”

  “Maybe another mystery?” he suggested.

  “Yeah, right. I’m still getting over this one.”

  “You seem pretty recovered to me,” he said.

  I considered it.

  “I guess the part that still freaks me out is the fact that Hattie was able to fool all those people. It was one thing for her to impersonate Berlin because Berlin wasn’t even from around here. But she had everyone in Halo City thinking that she was me. It’s kind of hard to stomach.”

  “Oh, you’re exaggerating,” Charlie chided me. “The people she actually tricked were people who didn’t even know you. Like the Stratfords and Alfy Romero. But I would have known without a second thought. Daisy would have known too.”

  “I hope so.” I sighed. “But I’m not so sure. Looking at her, dressed like me—in my exact same cowboy boots, the same glasses, and eyeliner, and lip gloss and everything—even I got confused for a second.”

  Charlie waved his hand dismissively and gazed out over the Halo City skyline. “That’s just because you, and everyone else for that matter, are way too wrapped up in clothes and appearances and shallow stuff like that. It’s so silly.” At that, his voice cracked, and he gave an embarrassed laugh. He plucked a few petals from a potted geranium before speaking again.

  “Let’s face it. You’re beautiful,” he finally mumbled. “With or without your cowboy boots and makeup. But that’s practically the least important thing about you.”

  “I’m beautiful?” I asked. I found myself grinning from ear to ear.

  “Yes, you’re beautiful,” Charlie said softly. “Now get over it.” He grabbed my hand and leaned in toward me. This time, nothing interrupted us.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I AM NOT TRYING to be Elizabeth Wurtzel with the acknowledgments, but some people really deserve thanking.

  Thank you to my editors, Margaret Wright and Kristen Pettit, for being reasonably patient and infinitely helpful, and for making Lulu a better book than I ever thought it could be. Thank you to my agent, Rebecca Sherman, for being my Jewish fairy godmother and for bearing with me through sweeps week. Thank you to Eloise Flood and everyone else at Razorbill for letting me write a book. Thank you to my friend and erstwhile psychic advisor, Jordan Schuster, for helping me with the Tarot card stuff—and for everything else, too. Thank you to my mom or else she will kill me. Thank you to Laird for being wonderful and steadfast. Finally, and most Wurtzel-y, thank you to Stevie Nicks—for the glitter.