Lulu Dark Can See Through Walls (24 page)

Daisy sat there, absorbing everything. I could tell she was still having a hard time believing all of this.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a picture of your sister, would you?” I asked.

“Well, of course,” Susan answered. She fished her wallet out of her bag and handed us a crisp two-by-three photo.

Daisy peered down at it. A look of recognition crossed her face. “You were right, Lulu,” she admitted. “You were right all along.”

She handed the picture to me. It showed a young-looking girl in a white, oversized sweatshirt and light blue high-waisted jeans. The sweatshirt read SUPERSTAR in cheesy airbrushed script. Her hair was frizzy, and her makeup was straight up garish—all the wrong colors in all the wrong places for her bone structure and complexion.

But her face . . . this girl was undeniably the person I had known as Berlin Silver. The person I now knew as Hattie.

There was no more beating around the bush. I had to tell Susan the truth. I braced myself, took a swig of coffee for courage, and spoke. “Susan,” I said gently. “I have to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“You know how I told you that Hattie was impersonating a rich girl named Berlin Silver?”

“Yeah.” She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head, waiting to see what I was going to say next.

“Well,” I said. “They found Berlin’s body in Dagger Bay. She’s been there for four months. I think Hattie killed her and stole her stuff so that she could take her place.”

Susan shook her head. “No way. That’s crazy. My sister might be a little messed up, but she’d never hurt anyone.” She paused, then corrected herself. “Well, she might give someone a black eye. Actually, she’s given a few people black eyes. And a few bloody lips here and there. But that’s it. She’s just emotional. And she’d never kill anyone.”

Although I was touched by Susan’s faith in her sister, it was obvious that she was deluded. After all, Hattie had been ready to shove me onto the train tracks.

I decided to play along with her for the time being, but I wasn’t going to let this lady talk me into thinking Hattie was just some misguided soul with a heart of gold.

Underestimating your enemy is always the biggest mistake.

“Well,” I said, “maybe you’re right. But either way, we have to find Hattie and stop her.”

“You’re right. We have to. For her own good,” Susan said quickly.

“And yours,” Daisy muttered under her breath.

Luckily I had a pretty good idea of where we could find her.

“Come on,” I said, “let’s get out of here. I’ve got a plan.”

IT WAS MIDNIGHT, AND I was poised on the edge of the couch in the stark, dimly lit apartment that Hattie had been sharing with Alfy Romero.

The place was all sleek and soulless and modern. Even if I hadn’t been sitting there waiting for my clone to show, it would have given me goose bumps. Everything at Alfy’s was glass and chrome and leather. It was the kind of place that Dr. Evil would find cozy.

I shifted slightly in my seat. An industrial-looking clock on the wall ticked out the passing seconds. My leg twitched in my cowboy boot, anticipating Hattie’s arrival.

Now is not the time for nerves to get the better of you,
I scolded myself. I put a hand on my knee to still the shaking and let my gaze wander around the room.

This certainly isn’t how I expected to make it into Alfy’s place,
I thought. But then again, nothing was going the way I expected it to lately. I’d spent almost seventeen years leading a perfectly normal and intrigue-free life—then
wham.
In a matter of days, everything had turned crazy.

I folded my legs underneath me and clutched my trusty spatula, the only thing there to protect me.

Well,
I thought,
I only have myself to blame.

 

Earlier I had insisted to Charlie, Daisy, Helena, and Susan that I had to complete this mission solo.

“It won’t work unless I’m by myself,” I had told them.

Typical. Typical! Now I was clinging to a spatula like it was my last friend on earth. I nearly laughed. All this for a purse. A purse that, I might add, I had strapped tightly over my shoulder. After all of this, I would probably never take it off again.

With jangling nerves, I glanced up at the clock. Where was Hattie? She was supposed to be back by now.

As the minutes ticked by, my anxiety started to increase. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a photograph on an end table in the corner. My curiosity got the better of me. What could a little snooping hurt? I stood up to investigate.

It was me, almost, framed three by five. I had an arm around Alfy Romero and my lips on his cheek. I gasped. I still hadn’t gotten used to seeing Hattie like that—disguised as me. She had gotten it so right, down to the hot pink hoop earrings.

I studied her costume, trying to figure out what, exactly, made her look like me. She was wearing my glasses, had her hair long and wavy like mine, and was wearing my signature shade of lip gloss. But that wasn’t entirely it. There was something else. I just couldn’t put a finger on it.

And then someone put a finger on me. On my shoulder, to be precise. I yelped, but before I could whirl, there was an arm against my chest and a hand over my mouth. A lock of chestnut hair brushed my cheek.

It was Hattie. It was me. It was both. She’d snuck up on me. How had I not heard the door?

No matter, I’d slap her into oblivion with my . . .

I blanched. My spatula was still on the couch, leaving me defenseless.

Well,
I thought,
this is it. At least
I
’m going to die with my handbag.

“You!” she spat. She sounded almost scared.

I stared at the figure before me.

There Hattie stood, but it was hard to think of her as Hattie. Even I was drawn in by her convincing imitation. She glowered, shoulders thrown back, tapping the toe of her pink cowboy boot—exactly the way I would have if I was in her position. Hattie had Lulu pumping in her veins, but there was one problem. Hattie was a certified lunatic.

Because the most deadly weapon that Lulu Dark would ever brandish is a spatula, and even that she probably wouldn’t use. Hattie-slash-Lulu, on the other hand, had gone straight for the knife-sharp letter opener that was lying on the desk.

Crap!
Why hadn’t I thought to Hattie-proof the place before putting my plan into action?

She brandished the thing, keeping it well within my line of sight.

“Tell me who you are!” she demanded. “Who are you? And why are you doing this to me?”

Her voice was pure anguish. This wasn’t an act, I realized. Hattie was confused and scared.

I was defenseless. Worse, I was tongue-tied. Hattie stepped forward, the letter opener gripped tightly in her fist. This was it!

And then I had a flash of brilliance. Sometimes I surprise myself that way.

“Wait!” I yelled. As quickly as I could, I reached into my purse and pulled out my brand-spanking new driver’s license.

“I’m Lulu Dark,” I told her. “And you’re out of your freaking mind.”

Hattie recoiled like she’d been burned. She stared at the driver’s license. There was my name and my picture.

You can’t argue with paperwork. There was no mistaking it. I was the real Lulu Dark.

A panicked look crossed Hattie’s face. She dropped the letter opener, letting it clatter to the floor. I contemplated my next move, but Hattie was ahead of me. She had hoisted open the window and climbed out onto the fire escape. All I could do was follow.

I jumped out onto the rickety metal structure and started clambering up in the darkness. I could hear Hattie a few flights above, racing up, up, up.

My eyes hadn’t adjusted and I could barely see. I was feeling my way, stumbling, hoping that I wouldn’t be too late. But too late for what? What was Hattie planning? I didn’t even want to think about it.

When I finally made it to the roof, I caught my breath. Ten stories up, I found myself nestled in a canyon of lights. Halo City was twinkling all around, above and below. It was beautiful.

There was a full moon. Hattie stood on the edge of the roof with a crazy look in her eyes.

“Hattie!” I screamed. She barely seemed to register my voice.

“My name is Lulu Dark,” she said dreamily. She didn’t make eye contact. She was swaying back and forth on her heels. Slowly I approached her. I had to get her down from that ledge.

I wouldn’t even want my worst enemy to jump off a building. But the weird thing was, Hattie wasn’t my worst enemy—not by a long shot.

For one thing, no matter how creepy her obsession with me was, it was also sort of flattering. Hattie thought that pretending to be
me,
of all people, was going to bring her fame and fortune. And the fact that she was drawn to me, the fact that she was able to impersonate me so flawlessly, had to mean there was a strange connection between us somewhere. An inexplicable similarity. In a way, she was my responsibility.

“Hattie, please listen to me,” I began to say. I didn’t want to make any quick movements that would freak her out.

“Hattie? I don’t know who that is,” she snapped.

“Just come down,” I told her. I took off my glasses and looked her in the eye.

I thought I saw a crack in her armor, but she didn’t move. Her lip was quivering almost imperceptibly.

“I’m Lulu,” I told her. “You’re Hattie, remember? You came from Motoropolis in January. Then you were Berlin for a while, but that wasn’t real either.”

“Stop it,” she said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her eyes were watering.

“Yes, you do,” I contradicted her. “I know these things. I am Lulu Dark. I can see through walls. I can see through you. And you can see through me too, enough to know that I’m not screwing with you.”

Then she was crying silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. She turned her face away from me.

“Hattie,” I said. “Look at me.”

Crushed, she stepped down from the ledge and slumped on the pebbly surface of the roof.

She glared up at me. I could tell she was trying to be defiant, even through her tears. I reached into my purse and pulled out a Wet Nap. I used it to dab at my face—eyes first—taking off my makeup.

“I’m Lulu,” I repeated. “This is Lulu. The makeup and stuff, it’s nothing. It’s meaningless. You can see through it just like I can, can’t you?”

I felt a little dishonest there. I realized that I owed it to Hattie to tell her so. “The truth is, sometimes even I have a hard time remembering that the makeup, the cowboy boots, and the fringe don’t matter,” I said gently.

Hattie stared into my eyes. For a moment I was uncomfortable having her look at me like that—without my eyeliner and everything.

I bet I look like a little piglet,
I thought, and instantly chided myself for being so shallow at the very moment that I was trying to discourage that kind of thinking.

I may have had my own misgivings, but Hattie was now transfixed, almost hypnotized. Knowing that it was time to strike while the iron was hot, I tossed her my whole packet of Wet Naps and then dug into my purse. I found the nameplate necklace and looked down at it. It glittered in my hand:
HATTIE.

For some reason, I was almost sad to part with it. I’d been carrying it around everywhere, and it had become kind of a talisman. Even though I knew it was stupid, I couldn’t help thinking that it had protected me.

I walked over to her, there in a heap on the ground. She was dabbing her face, wiping her makeup off just like I had. “Here you go,” I said. I bent down and fastened the charm around her neck.

Then she was wailing in my arms. I’d never known myself to be such a caring person before, but I was rocking her, rubbing her on the back. Everyone deserves to have someone rub her back while she cries, even if it is her mortal enemy. Marisol and her mother had taught me that.

“Shhh,” I comforted her. “It will be okay.”

“No, it won’t,” she sobbed. “It won’t be okay.”

“Of course it will,” I said. “I don’t get what’s so wrong with being Hattie anyway. For one thing, you’re gorgeous. For another thing, you’re smart, not to mention wily as a freaking alley cat. You have a sister who loves you, and, um, like the sexiest boyfriend in the entire universe. Who is head over heels.”

“He doesn’t love me,” she cried. “He loves Lulu Dark.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said. “Let’s go back downstairs.”

Hattie nodded dejectedly, and shuffled toward the fire escape.

Remembering something, I quickly whipped out my cell phone and sent Daisy a text message. Then I scampered down the metal stairs after Hattie.

 

When we climbed back through the window, everyone was there in Alfy’s living room. Although I’d insisted on confronting Hattie on my own, they’d been just as adamant about waiting in the empty apartment next door—just in case. The message I’d sent Daisy was the signal for them to come out of the woodwork.

Hattie was still sobbing, and Alfy scooped her up into his arms. “I love you,” he whispered.

“No!” She sniffed, pushing him away. “You want her instead.” She pointed at me accusingly.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Alfy said. He took his girlfriend by the shoulders and gave her the sweetest kiss on the cheek before guiding her over to the couch. “You know the note that Lulu had? With my phone number?”

Hattie nodded.

“It wasn’t ever for her. In the dark, on the stage, I tapped the wrong person. The message was for you. My roadie gave it to Lulu by mistake.”

She looked up at him, still tearful but no longer crying. “Really?”

“Really.”

I furrowed my brow. For real? I hadn’t heard that part of the story. Now,
that
was kind of annoying.