Lulu Dark Can See Through Walls (21 page)

“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 did 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. . . .

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?”

I studied her face, trying to divine the girl’s true identity. It was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. It was making me dizzy almost. Every time I thought I had honed in on a telltale detail, my head spun. It was like looking in a fun-house mirror.

My heart was thumping hard and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through me. I drew myself up and ditched the panic. “
Your
purse? You’ve got some freaked-out nerve. The purse is mine, has always been mine, and is safe and sound. Elsewhere. Now take off those glasses and tell me your name.”

“My name is Lulu Dark,” she snarled. I inched back, nearly banging my head on the beam behind me. Hearing her say my name with that demented, dead-serious set in her jaw—I caught myself almost thinking she was for real. A shiver ran down my spine. This poser truly believed she was me and
I
was the impostor!

“I am Lulu Dark,” she repeated, like a mantra. “I am Lulu Dark.”

“You’re nothing like Lulu Dark,” I growled. “For one thing, Lulu Dark is sane.”

With that her face twisted so that she looked like an enraged gargoyle. In my wrists her talons seemed to grow an inch. I yelped in pain as I felt them break the skin, and she pulled me away from the metal beam, whirled me around, and shoved me to the precipice of the platform, where I teetered treacherously. The girl pushed her face close to mine.

“Listen up,” she snapped. “You’re going to take me to my purse right this second or you’re going to be a pancake when the next train comes.” She nudged me backward, and I felt myself wobbling.

I lifted my left foot and vigorously slammed the heel of my boot into her pink, copycat toe. “Ha!” I shouted as she fell backward, whimpering. With that I made a play for the exit. But before I could escape, she stuck out her leg and caught my foot mid-dash. I fell to the asphalt, arms stretched out in a face-first cement angel. I tried to scramble to my feet, but she was on top of me instantly, pinning me in a savvy wrestling hold.

“I warned you,” she whispered in my ear. “Lulu Dark does not take crap from anyone, especially not a wannabe like you.”

I shoved her off and kicked her in the ribs. I was at the wrong angle to do any real damage, though. She crawled toward me again, snarling and grimacing behind her dark glasses. I could hear the rumble of the subway in the distance, but I didn’t have time to wait around for it to arrive. The rest of the platform was deserted. I had to get out of there.

I sprang to my feet and turned for the stairs again, but before I could move, scary Lulu grabbed my calf. With a quick, sharp yank she pulled me down. All at once we were blindly tearing and scratching at each other’s faces and hair. Soon I started to run out of steam.