Lulu Dark Can See Through Walls (9 page)

Unfortunately, upon a look in the other direction, I felt that spark you get when you meet eyes with someone by accident.

About fifty feet away the girl we’d dubbed Sally Hansen was filing her nails. Except she wasn’t looking at her hands. She was staring straight at me—with total and utter hate in her eyes—just like the other night.

What was with this girl? Did she have some problem with the state of my cuticles or something? I reached for the camera around my neck and, quick as a fox, I snapped her picture. Ha! That would show her to conduct her personal grooming in public.

Sally jumped, startled. Then she turned and shuffled off in her black miniskirt and stilettos. The girl was a pro, too: not many people can walk that fast in high heels.

I considered chasing after her to ask what her problem was, but I was still winded, not to mention discouraged, from my pursuit of Alfy.

Anyway, what was the point? What could I possibly say to her besides, “Stop giving me mean looks while you do your nails”?

No, I didn’t confront Sally. Instead I resigned myself to the fact that this had been the worst Future Career Day ever. We’d come no closer to finding Berlin
or
my purse, I’d been dissed hard core by the world’s cutest boy, and meanwhile my best friend was about to win the Miss Halo Park pageant. I hadn’t even gotten a tan—just a nasty sunburn on my shoulders and nose.

Enough was enough. I decided I deserved the night off.

AFTER THE DEBACLE IN THE PARK Charlie met me and Daisy at Little Edie’s, where Daisy is the most absentminded waitress of all time. When Charlie arrived, it was five o’clock, and the place was totally empty. Daisy turned the music way up and poured us all some coffee.

Little Edie’s is on the corner of Conford and Culp avenues, in the so-called funky part of town, where sixteen-year-old punks clog the sidewalks. It’s the best place in the world to hang out, especially when Daisy’s working. When it’s empty, we have the run of the place, sitting on top of tables and walking around with our shoes off, and when it’s full, it’s crowded with the biggest oddballs in Halo City. The furniture all comes from thrift stores and yard sales—basically junk—so it looks like someone’s weird bachelor uncle’s apartment, with huge, comfy armchairs all loose springs and stuffing popping out in a thousand directions. There’s a black cat named Big Edie who wanders back and forth, purring and rubbing up on your leg and expecting anchovies in exchange for affection. At Little Edie’s, Daisy gives us free food and lets us stay forever at the table by the window, just watching people and having bizarre conversations with strangers. During the summers I practically live there.

That day, even though the hour was inching toward evening, the sun was only just beginning to turn pink on the edge of the window frame. I plopped myself onto a busted BarcaLounger, and Daisy and Charlie shared the antique divan.

“I think today may have been the worst day of my life,” I told them.

“Aren’t you overlooking the occasion when you peed your pants on the fourth-grade field trip to the zoo?” Daisy asked. Charlie laughed.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I covered my face with my hands. “Maybe it’s a tie.”

“Lulu, you’re always so dramatic,” Charlie said. “Think about how much worse it could be. Someone could have died. Your hair could have fallen out overnight. You could have broken a leg or worse. In the grand scheme of things, one jerky boy isn’t all that bad.”

“Charlie, it wasn’t just a jerky boy. I made a complete fool out of myself.”

Daisy stood and walked over to the counter, where she began wrapping up silverware in napkins for the evening crowd. “Actually, Lulu,” she called, “I’m not sure about that. If he thought you were hot a week ago, why shouldn’t he now? It’s not like you grew a second head or something. If anyone should feel disgraced, it’s him, not you.”

“Yeah. And besides, you can do better,” Charlie added.

I looked at him quizzically. “You think?” I asked.

“You
know,
” Daisy interjected, “something strange is going on. I mean, what’s up with that Sally Hansen girl? What was she doing, stalking you?”

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

Charlie drummed his fingers on the table and tapped his foot to the flamenco music that Daisy had put on the sound system. He has the shortest attention span, and he was getting bored with the conversation.

“So what’s the plan for tonight, Lu?” he asked. “How are you going to find Berlin now?”

“I’m taking the night off,” I told him. “This is totally not working, and I’m exhausted from thinking too hard. I feel like I’m missing something. Maybe if I chill on it, the solution will come to me.”

“As long as you’re not giving up,” Daisy said.

I looked at her incredulously. “Hello, this is Lulu Dark you’re talking to. Winners never quit and quitters never win. And at this point I’m mostly just in it to beat Berlin at her game. It’s not like I’m going to call Alfy now that he thinks I’m a freak—so the issue of his number is pretty moot.”

“You could give it to Genevieve,” Charlie suggested. “She keeps talking about how jealous she is.”

I set my coffee mug on the table with a loud thump. “Charlie,” I said slowly, “if you tell Genevi
evil
what happened with Alfy Romero today, I will
kill
you. I don’t need her and her little minions laughing at me all over town. If Genevieve is jealous, I would prefer it if she stayed that way.”

“I won’t say a word. But if we’re not searching for Berlin tonight, what
are
we doing?”

“Whatever it is, count me out,” Daisy said. “I’m working till two in the morning.”

“I just want to take it easy,” I told Charlie. “I don’t think I have the spirit for anything too exciting. I’ve been hammered down by life.” I sighed loudly and sank into my seat, playing for sympathy.

“I have just the place to go,” Charlie said. He smiled broadly and brushed his hair from his eyes.

 

A couple of hours later we were sitting at one of the best tables at Medardo, which is maybe the trendiest restaurant in Halo City. Charlie’s dad, who is a pretty famous lawyer, totally adores me, and when Charlie told him I’d had a terrible day, he gave him the credit card and told him to take me out. It’s like impossible to get a reservation at this place, but Charlie’s family has all the right connections. The lights were dim and there were candles flickering everywhere. I was looking good, if I do say so myself. I’d changed into this slinky, electric blue dress that one of my crackpot mom’s fashion designer friends had given to me last time I visited her in LA. I paired it with my hot pink cowboy boots. I missed my purse a little—it would have matched so well—but even without it, I was looking fine. Charlie wasn’t too bad himself. As a joke, he’d donned his Gucci suit for the occasion and, more shockingly, a vintage floral tie. He’d even smeared some junk in his hair, which he never, ever did.

When we approached the table, Charlie jumped ahead of me and pulled out my chair.

“Your seat, Ms. Dark,” he said in his lowest baritone.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Reed,” I replied, slipping into my seat. I grabbed my menu and a hunk of bread. I sat there for a moment, munching and trying to decipher the contents of the menu. It was puzzling. Is a sweetbread like a doughnut? I was pondering the question when Charlie looked up at me. “We look hot tonight,” he said, smiling out of one side of his mouth. “I mean, we look good together. I mean”—he blushed—“I like your dress. Never mind.”

“Why, thank you, Charles,” I said, batting my eyelashes playfully. “I think you just said something very charming.”

A relieved look came over his face. I held his gaze for a moment, but before it got too serious, we both erupted into laughter.

As we were recovering, a waiter placed a plate of something complimentary in front of us. I examined it. It was hard to tell exactly what it was, but it appeared to be some sort of shellfish with sherbet on top. That seemed weird to me, but you never can tell when it comes to this fancy business.

“We’ll have a bottle of wine too,” Charlie said to the waiter as he was about to walk away.

“Would you like to see the list?”

“We’ll just take whatever’s nicest,” Charlie said. “Red.”

My eyes almost popped out of my head. “He means whatever’s
cheapest,
” I jumped in. It was a nice gesture, but I wasn’t about to drink a five-thousand-dollar bottle of wine on Charlie’s dad’s tab.

The waiter could barely conceal his smirk but nodded anyway. “I’ll pick something for you,” he said. We didn’t even get carded. Eating out with a guy who knows the owner certainly has its advantages.

I had to restrain myself from tipping my chair back to get a good look around the restaurant. It was dim and noisy and elbow to elbow with people, and I had to lean in close to Charlie to hear him over the warm buzz of laughter and the smooth, pulsing bossa nova that hovered in the air. I craned my neck to take in the crowd and was almost positive that I saw several supermodels in different corners, all picking nervously at salads. I sighed happily as I felt an easing of the tension that had been sitting in my shoulders all day. Charlie was right. This was exactly what I needed.

When our food arrived, we’d each already had a couple of glasses of wine. I’m not sure what it’s like to be drunk, and I don’t think I was, but I do know that I was feeling a little sillier than usual, tossing my hair a lot and fluttering my hands around when I talked, which I was doing a mile a minute. Charlie seemed to be in the same mood, his eyes wide with amazement at everything I said and his limbs suddenly very limber. After our entrees we both fell back lazily into our chairs. I’d been spacing out for several minutes, involuntarily thinking about my purse and Berlin and Alfy Romero, when I glanced up at Charlie again and saw him busily constructing an intricate little structure out of sugar cubes in the empty spot where his plate had been.

That was Charlie for you. Always acting grown up but deep down, the same little kid I’d known my whole life. I laughed to myself, but he picked up on it.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“What are you doing with those sugar cubes?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. Then he smiled and looked me straight in the eye. “I’m going to reconstruct the Great Pyramids. For you. I might need to ask the waiter for some more sugar cubes, though.”

“You’re such a spaz,” I said, kicking him under the table. But I was secretly touched. The Great Pyramids. I liked the sound of that. I felt my heart swell a little but caught it just in time and shook it off.

Anyone who saw us probably would have thought we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Luckily I knew better.

The thing is, Charlie is cute, like,
really
cute. He’s all tall and starry-eyed and full of action. But I could never date him—I know him way too well. And I know his flaws better than probably anyone in the universe. Like what a dilettante he is, and how spoiled and oblivious. And how he cracks his knuckles
constantly,
and bites his nails, and is never ever on time. He’s also a total flirt and is way too fickle with his girlfriends. Seriously. He’d been through five or six already that semester. It’s like, he tries them out for a while and when they don’t measure up to some crazy ideal he has in his scruffy little head, he dumps them.

Anyway, as I said, Charlie and I would never, ever work.

“Look,” he said, pointing across the room and not even trying to be subtle. ”Jordan Fitzbaum is hooking up with Rachel Buttersworth-Taylor!”

“You’re kidding,” I said, and swiveled to see. He was only exaggerating a little: Jordan and Rachel were there, on an obvious date. I noted with satisfaction that not only did they have the table by the kitchen, but their outfits weren’t anywhere near as stylish as ours.

Nonetheless, Rachel had definitely scored a coup. She’d had a huge crush on Jordan since eighth grade, and she’d finally gotten him to take her out—to Medardo, no less. Jordan
was
gorgeous, too, practically underwear-model material.

“God, I hope she doesn’t see me,” I said. “That’s the only thing that could make this day suck worse.”

“A piano could fall on our heads while we’re walking down the street,” Charlie said. “That would suck worse. Or I could spill wine all over your one-of-a-kind frock.” He picked up the bottle and playfully taunted me, tipping it in my direction.

“Don’t!” I exclaimed. “Don’t even joke!”

He put the bottle back on the table. “See,” he said, “it could be much worse. What could little old Rachel do to you, anyway?”

“Well,
she
could spill wine on my dress. Somehow that doesn’t seem out of character for her.”

“True story.” Charlie was silent for a minute, smirking.

“What are you giving me that look for?”

“I don’t know, I just think it’s really funny how you and Rachel hate each other.”

“Why shouldn’t we?” I snapped.

“Because you two are just like each other. You could be sisters. Or soul mates.” Charlie grinned smugly and crossed his arms across his chest as if to say,
Take that.

I was floored. How could Charlie possibly think I was anything like that insecure, vindictive witch? “What! Do! You! Mean by
that?!
” I demanded.

“Put it this way,” he said with that annoying look of triumphant satisfaction. “You’re both incredibly smart and cool.”

I scowled.

“And you’re both totally tough. You can call Rachel what you want, but she’s no wimp. You both know what you want and how to get it. It’s just that neither of you can stand that there’s someone else around like yourself. You each want to be the only one. So you should get over it and just be friends.”

“You are so wrong!” I protested.

“Lulu, I’m so right. Everyone knows it except the two of you. Marisol and I talk about it all the time.”