Lost in Paris (8 page)

19

Henri put on his hotel shirt and name tag. I wore a lab coat. If anyone asked, we would say that I worked for a cleaning company. Who knew that a few lab coats would come in so handy? I also donned some rubber gloves that Brigitte had in the back of the van.

“What are we going to do?” he asked.

“Move these chairs and plants to make a barrier that will be difficult for people to see behind. It will look like we are moving all of these things to vacuum behind and under them. Then we'll bring the birds in the front door,
behind our barrier, and through the secret door,” I said. “But in case someone happens to see through our barrier, it would be good to cover their cages.” I looked up at the heavy drapes. “Do you think we can get one of these down for a little while?”

“Yes. I take them down to clean them. I can do it.”

“Great,” I said. “Once we move this stuff, we just need to wait for the team to arrive. When they come into the lobby, everything will be chaotic and loud. That's the perfect time to move the birds in.”

He took down one of the drapes, which wasn't nearly as heavy as it had looked hanging up. I delivered it to the petmobile while he started sliding the chairs and potted plants. The rain was still coming down hard, so I ran. I jumped into the van and brought Brigitte up to speed.

“I spoke to the Cliquots,” she said. “They were glad that I wasn't driving in the rain with their babies. They also said to make sure they get a good night's sleep.”

“We can do that,” I said.

“After we get them settled, they will look for dinner. I have food.”

“When we move them in, can you cover them with this?” I handed her the fabric and she agreed.

On my sprint back to the hotel, I saw Knit Cap playing his guitar under an awning. I stopped to listen. He
was singing a song about running away again—seemed like his theme—but then he paused at the same point that he did the other day. “Why do you stop when you get to that part?”

“I don't know how the rest goes,” he said. “I don't have any more words.”

“Words are my specialty,” I said. “How about:

“I could go to Japan,

I could go to the sky,

If only I could fly.”

“Wow. You're really good at this stuff.” He strummed and added my words into his tune and then repeated “If only I could fly” several times as the refrain. It totally worked.

“That's good,” I said.

“Good? It's better than good,” he said. “Will you sing it with me?”

“Really?” I asked. I totally wanted to sing with him.

“Sure. A continuation of what we started yesterday.” He played a chord and another and started it for me: “I could go to—”

I picked up: “Japan. I could go to the sky . . .”

He harmonized with me. We sounded great together. Really great!

When we finished the few lines, he said, “You have an amazing voice.”

“Thanks.” I think I blushed. Then I offered, “You can have those lyrics if you want.”

“Thanks. That's a nice offer, but I want to write my own material,” he said. “But tell me, how did you come up with that?”

“I like to start with a rhyme. This time with ‘fly' and ‘sky.' I make those two sentences and then fill in the others,” I said. “But I keep a notebook and jot things down when they come to me. That would probably help you a lot.”

I reached into my pocket where I'd stashed the few extra pieces of royal blue paper in case I needed them today. “This will help you start,” I said. “It's easier to write lyrics than to try to just think them up.”

“Wow. I'm gonna do that,” he said. “Cool beans.” He strummed and sang, “Cooool beansss.”

“How long have you been playing?”

“All my life,” he said.

“You're so good. Why do you play out here on the street when you could be at a club or something?”

“Been there, done that. As soon as I started playing for money, it wasn't about the music anymore; it was about the show and the publicity. I just love the music,” he said.

“Me too,” I agreed.

Then he said, “By the way, great job with the diversionary tactic you played on the Beefy lady. Too sly.”

“Funny. I call her Beef too,” I said. “I would've loved to have seen her face when she realized there were no basement lockers at the airport.”

“I saw her mug when she got back here this morning,” he said. “Wow, she was fuming. I think maybe she's onto you.”

“She is?” Oh no, I never thought of what would happen if she figured out it was me. Beef didn't seem like a good person to have on your bad side. “I think I'll avoid her until this contest is over.”

“And maybe even after that, like, forever,” he suggested. “She is still furious about that TV reality show, and that was years ago.”

“What happened?”

“She was a contestant on a super-popular talent discovery show. She lost, obviously, and never got over it.”

“Is she a good singer?”

“Really good, actually. Country music,” he said. “She still hopes to make it big, and I hope she does. Everyone deserves their big break.”

Henri came outside and called to me, “I need help, Gwen.”

“I have to go,” I said to Knit Cap. “We're kind of doing something in there.”

“Have fun, Gwen,” he said. “I hope you win.”

Henri had the lobby arranged perfectly. He asked, “Were you talking to the guitar player?”

“Yeah. His music is good,” I said. “And he's nice.”

“He is there all the time. I do not understand why someone who plays so well just stands on the street,” Henri said.

“Because he loves the music. When he played for money, he said, it wasn't about the music anymore.” Henri started pushing a vacuum along the edge of the newly exposed wall. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” he said with a grumpy tone. “Étienne asked me what I was doing. I told him. He got me the vacuum machine. So now I vacuum.”

I smiled. The floor was kind of dirty behind all of this stuff.

Suddenly headlights flashed in the hotel window where the drapery was missing. “I think the team is back,” I said.

The boys unloaded the bus from the front and back at the same time, shouting, “Vic-to-ry! Vic-to-ry!”

I signaled Brigitte and she took the first cage out of
the van, covered it with the fabric, and brought it to the door. As the boys entered the hotel, she handed the cage to me and I dashed along the pathway with it. No one even noticed me. I could hear the birds under the drape saying, “Vic-to-ry!”

I set the birds down in the secret hall and went back with the drape.

Brigitte brought in the next cage and we did the same thing.

When she came to the door with the third cage, the boys had a whole lacrosse game going on in the ­middle of the lobby. Étienne was telling them they couldn't play inside. They argued that it was raining outside and champions had to play.

We scooted the third cage in without issue.

Once the birds were all secured behind the wall, the three of us moved the furniture and plants back to their original places, which were now clean. I helped Henri rehang the drape and watched Knit Cap through the window as he jammed and jotted notes. He was way too good to be playing on the street.

JTC paused in their indoor game long enough to ask, “What are you doing, Gwen?”

“Oh, hey. Just helping straighten things up down
here. Like a little volunteering. No biggie. Congratulations on your win. That's exciting!”

“It's more than exciting!” Josh and Topher ran toward each other and crashed into a chest bump. “
It rocks!
” They high-fived after the body check.

Charlie asked, “How's the hunt for the tickets going?”

“It's going pretty well—”

Topher said, “Only you would waste your time in Paris playing some contest that you're never gonna win when you could be sightseeing.”

Josh added, “Most girls would kill to shop in Paris.”

“She's not a regular girl,” Topher said. “She doesn't like shopping.” The two of them moved away with their lacrosse sticks and tossed a ball back and forth. Étienne tried to get the ball, and they had a laugh playing monkey in the ­middle with him until the coach took the ball and all the sticks and made the team sit “like gentlemen” for dinner.

Before Charlie joined them, he said, “I think you're a regular girl. A guy would look funny in those capris and sandals.” That was the closest thing to a compliment I could ever expect from JT or C.

Before he disappeared into the dining room, Josh called to me, “Hey, tell Shock Value I said hi. Especially Winston.”

“I like Alec,” Topher added.

“Dream big,” Charlie said.

I sighed. “Sorry you had to see that,” I said to Henri. “They can be such jerks sometimes, maybe most of the time, but sometimes they're nice. I just can't always tell which way it's gonna go. Usually when they're together like this with friends, it goes jerky.”

“I understand,” he said. “I have Jean-Luc, Robert, and Sabine. When they are together, they are . . . how you say? . . . jerky.” I smiled. It was nice to have someone who kind of understood. I guess it didn't matter whether it was Paris or Pennsylvania—there were some things, like “jerky” groups, that were universal.

20

We uncovered the birdcages, fed the birds, and let them check out their temporary bedroom.

Henri lit the sconce candles before going on a search for pillows and blankets.

I texted Mom that Brigitte got a room in the hotel because of the bad weather and I was staying with her.

I heard Henri's voice in the lobby on the other side of the wall, so I slid the playing card–size wood chip aside and peeked in.

“Where have you been?” Étienne asked in French.

“I am doing the treasure hunt for the Shock Value tickets,” Henri said in French, but I understood. I hadn't realized how much better my French had gotten in just a few days.

“Why are you doing that? You are probably the only person I know who doesn't like Shock Value,” Étienne asked, again in French.

Henri shrugged.

Étienne said, “It is the girl, isn't it? The American. You like her?”

“We are having fun playing the game. She is not like other French girls I know. She likes sports.”

“And you think she is pretty?”

“Oui. Elle est jolie.”
Henri smiled.

I knew
jolie
meant “pretty.” Henri thought I was pretty? And he was playing this whole game, missing work, and running all over Paris in a petmobile with a fluffy dog in a pink bag over his shoulder looking for tickets to see a band that he didn't even like? For me?

The birds were awake now, but calm and full-bellied.

“They talk less when they are calm,” Brigitte said. “This is a good room for them, because there isn't a lot for them to see or hear.”

I stopped listening through the wall when Henri came in with sleeping stuff. It seemed like the birds were
still listening, but they weren't talking. I figured as long as no one mentioned that they were taking a bath, they would be quiet.

Henri returned stocked with everything we needed to camp out in the old office, including a board game and a white box wrapped in a pink satin ribbon. “Here.” He handed it to me.

A gift?

I pulled the silk ribbon, easily untying it. Lifting the lid, I discovered rows of delicate little cookie-like sandwiches. Each one had three layers—the outer two pieces were the same color, and the middle layer was different.

“What are these?” I asked.

“Have you never seen a
macaron
?”

“Yeah. I've seen them made with a lot of coconut and dipped in chocolate.”

“Ah, that is not a French
macaron
.” He pointed to one that had two dark brown layers sandwiching a whitish one. “That is espresso and cream.” He pointed to another, which had a dark brown layer between two red pieces. “That's chocolate and raspberry.” And he went on to name each
macaron
in the box, lying next to one another, creating a rainbow of colors: peanut butter and marshmallow, white chocolate and peppermint, pistachio and almond, etc. . . .

I took the cherry and vanilla one—it was about the
size of an Oreo—and bit it. It was crunchy and airy at the same time. “Mmmm. It's good. I want to try them all.”

“Of course,” Henri said. “They're little.” He took the other half of the one I'd just bitten. I bit into another, and again he took the other half, until I'd eaten half of a dozen flavors!

“It's official. I like French
macarons
,” I announced.

Henri smiled. “Me too.”

Then we spread the blankets and put the pillows in a circle with enough room for a board game. Henri tossed me the dice to go first.

I heard voices in the lobby, but since they weren't bothering the birds, I ignored them and rolled. Double sixes! I was off to a good start.

Brigitte took her turn; then it was Henri's.

“Wait,” I said. “Listen.”

“It's just guests,” Henri said.

“Not just any guests. I know that voice,” I said. “That's Beef.” I got up from my pile of blankets and walked over to the wood that blocked the pinholes. I slid it aside to see Beef talking to Professor Camponi.

It was the middle of the conversation. “You really let me down today. We're not gonna get those tickets.” I wasn't positive, but I thought Beef might've wiped a tear. “I can't believe I let that girl outsmart me.”