Lost in London (12 page)

Motioning for everyone in our group to be quiet, I tilted my head toward the girl.

We heard Caroline’s voice too—and lots of laughing.

It was the trampoline video clip that Sebastian had uploaded.

The girl behind us in line, the one chomping on her chewing gum, held her phone out enough for us to listen and watch. It was the news reporters again:

The anchor named Skye said,
“The recent theft at Daphne’s remains unsolved, but it’s believed that these two people are responsible.”

They flashed a still photo of our feet midjump.

“As you can see, there are no images of the suspects’ faces. But from the voices, it’s assumed to be two girls—an American and a Brit. Police have reviewed the surveillance
cameras from the night in question, but since the storm knocked out the electricity, there is no recording.”

The reporter named Cole asked,
“Skye, what about a backup generator? Surely a store as high-tech as Daphne’s has a backup system?”

“Indeed. They do have a generator, which was disconnected. The Daphne’s security team said the heist was well thought-out, because these girls chose a night when a storm killed the electricity, and they also knew how to disconnect a generator.”

“They sound like smart and experienced thieves,”
Cole said.
“What happens next?”

“The authorities will comb the videos before power was lost to see if they find a pair of girls matching these feet,”
Skye said, and the screen filled with the shot of our feet again.

“Can you believe it?” Bubble Gum said. “They recorded themselves and then put it on the Internet. It’s like they
want
to get caught.”

Then her friend with a pierced nose said, “Why would they want that? They’ll probably go up the river if they get caught.”

“I can’t imagine it will take that long to identify them,” Bubble Gum said.

“Then what?” Pierced Nose asked.

“Bring them in for questioning, I guess,” Bubble Gum said. “I’ll make you a bet that they have the American-British robber pair in custody before morning.”

Pierced Nose said, “No way. The police aren’t that good. I’ll take that wager.”

“What shall we bet?” Bubble Gum asked. “Tickets to the Riley Goodwin picture?”

“YES!” Pierced Nose agreed. They shook on it.

I whispered, “What are we going to do?”

Gordo said, “All right. Starting now you’re not American, J.J.”

Ellie asked, “How about Chinese? Can you do a Chinese accent?”

“That’s a good idea,” I said. “But even if I could, I don’t think I can
look
Chinese.”

“You haven’t tried.”

Sam said, “Why don’t you just be English? From Manchester.”

“I guess I could try that,” I said.

“In the meantime it wouldn’t hurt for you to lie low,” Sam said.

Caroline said, “We’re standing in the queue at a museum. It doesn’t get much lower than this.”

“I know!” Ellie raised her hand like an eight-year-old in school. She waited for Caroline’s acknowledgment to allow her to talk. “One word. ‘Disguises.’ I am the best
at disguises. We had a costume party at my school, and I won the prize for the best costume. I went as a royal guard with a homemade hat. I made the hat with pillow stuffing and painted it black. It was, like, four feet tall. Tell her how awesome it was, Sam.”

“It was actually quite good,” Sam agreed.

Ellie said, “I thought everyone was going to make their own and wear them to school the next day, but it didn’t catch on that way. That’s the thing with starting new fads, sometimes they catch on and sometimes they don’t—”

“Anyway,” Caroline interrupted. “Back in the real world I suppose a little camouflage wouldn’t be a totally awful idea.”

“True,” Gordo agreed.

Ellie said, “I don’t want to totally freak you out, but look.” She pointed to two policemen coming down the street. “Duck!”

Caroline bent down as if she was tying her shoe, which was silly because she was wearing boots with zippers. “Stop pointing!”

I stuck my head into my purse like I was looking for something very important that was way down at the bottom in the corner. I continued to hunt until Ellie said, “They’re gone. You can climb out of your designer bag
now. I’ve never actually seen someone try to fit inside a handbag. You gave it a good go. Let me try.”

She took my purse and bent her head down into it but didn’t get very far. “You’re better at it. One time I tried to see if my foot would fit into an orange juice container. My foot was smaller back then, of course. I got my foot in but couldn’t get it out, and since I couldn’t walk with it on my foot, I had to hop around until my dad could saw it off—the plastic orange container, that is, not my foot, obviously, because I still have it. See.”

She held up her leg and showed us her foot, like it would be news to us that her foot was still there. Caroline’s eyes said she was irritated by Ellie’s moronic behavior, but I got a laugh out of it—something I definitely needed at the moment.

“We know all about the ol’ foot-in-the-orange-juice-container story,” Caroline said. “But right now we have something to take care of. Can you boys stay in line and save our places?”

Gordo studied how far we had left to go before we got into the wax museum. “You’d better be quick.”

As we girls set out to buy disguises, I overheard Bubble Gum say, “I wish that was me. How awesome would it be to stay in Daphne’s overnight? Those two chicks are my heroes.”

She was talking about me! Boring old me was her hero!

Then Pierced Nose said, “You aren’t kidding. I’d love to have an exciting night like that, except I wouldn’t steal anything.”

“Come on,” Ellie said, and she ushered us away.

“How are we gonna get out of this?” I asked. “My parents are going to be superangry if they find out the police are looking for me.”

“We need two things,” Caroline said. “Disguises, and to get those videos from the Tart Fart so that he can’t upload anything else to the Internet, or turn anything over to the police.”

Ellie was laughing so hard that she had to hold herself up against the brick wall of the building we were going to walk into. “Tart Fart! That’s a good one, Car. I LOVE it.”

“Caroline,” she corrected Ellie.

“Ahhh.” She exhaled and caught her breath back. “Right. Sorry about that.” She was slightly more serious as she held the door to the Shamrock Boutique open for us. “Maybe if you apologize for breaking in and stealing the electronics—”

“We didn’t break in!” Caroline said loud enough to draw attention from the four customers and store lady.
“And.” She lowered her voice but said very firmly, “We. Didn’t. Steal. Anything.”

“Jeez,” Ellie whispered. “You don’t need to yell about it. Okay, you have five minutes for the ultimate disguises. I’ll be over here by the earrings for free consultations.”

“Why are you whispering?” I asked.

“Because I don’t want her to yell at me again.”

I went right for a soft pink wool cap with a really big flower pin affixed to it.

“Yes, that is perfect for you,” Ellie whispered very loudly across the store. I looked at a rack of sunglasses, touched a few, and chose a pair. “Yes,” she hissed again. She could whisper pretty loudly. “Those shades would be perfect for you.”

“You can stop whispering,” I said across the small boutique.

“Oh, good. I didn’t like it.”

The sunglasses were like two postage-stamp-size lenses held together by a thin metal frame.

“Really? You like these?” I put them on.

“Totally bohemian,” she said. She added a feathery scarf and wrapped it around my neck several times.

Caroline had tucked her hair under a red French beret, put on a well-worn denim jacket, lifted the collar
up to cover the bottom of her face, and added her big white sunglasses with the rhinestones that she already had in her purse.

Ellie slid a credit card across the counter; it amazed me the way these girls could charge stuff. Before we left the boutique, something caught my eye. A woman working there was piercing a little girl’s ears. The little girl was squeezing her eyes shut and hugging a stuffed bear into her belly, when there was a
POP!
The store lady shot an earring into her ear with a handheld gun gadget.

“Are you done?” the little girl asked.

“All done. That didn’t hurt, did it?”

“No, uh-uh.”

If she could do it, so could I. I’d never be able to get the second hole at home.

“Wait!” I called to Ellie and Caroline. Then I asked the store lady, “How fast can you give me second holes?”

The store lady popped her gun. “Less than a second per ear.”

I sat and pointed to a pair of earrings. The little girl handed me her bear. The store lady loaded the gun, and
POP!
She reloaded, and
POP!
And I was done.

On the sidewalk Ellie touched my back and my sides, and patted my purse. “What are you doing?” I asked as she did the same thing to Caroline.

“Just making sure you didn’t steal anything from that nice little store,” she teased.

“Oh MIIIIIIGod! Do you listen?” Caroline asked.

•  •  •

A few minutes later, after Gordo oohed and aahed over my earrings and our disguises, we entered Madame Tussauds on the lush carpet and followed the path to the first display—a random selection of US presidents.

Ellie stared. “Blimey! They look so real. I want to kiss one of them.”

“NO KISSING!” a voice behind us bellowed.

A figure stood perfectly still in the corner. Ellie walked toward her. “She looks like an actual person.” Ellie moved her face very close to the guard’s to examine her.

“I AM a real person,” the guard said, shocking Ellie so much that she fell to the ground.

She stood up and rubbed her butt. “That hurt,” she said.

After I took a picture of the guard, we moved to the next display. It was the cast of
Bloodsucking Zombies
, dressed up like they were at an awards show.

Ellie said, “I just love them. I wish they were here right now, because I want to meet them.”

“Me too,” Caroline said. She continued to lead the
way past countless wax celebrities. She stopped at a display of people I didn’t recognize. It was a group of ladies from Victorian times standing in front of Madame Tussauds in the evening. The wax lampposts looked like they were lit with oil, and the sidewalk appeared to be cobblestone.

Caroline’s mouth hung open. “Their dresses are incredible.”

Gordo read a plaque that was just inside a velvet rope keeping us back far enough so our breath wouldn’t touch the figures. “Says here that these gowns are all handmade. Guess who made them?”

“Who?” Sam asked, chewing a soft pretzel that had materialized in his hand.

“Daphne,” Caroline guessed.

“Yup,” Sam said. “It says that she started her fashion empire by first hand-sewing party dresses that she sold at the front of Madame Tussauds. Then she was hired as the official seamstress of the museum. Her dresses became so popular that she expanded her business and it continued to grow. Her wax likeness is in the next hall.”

“Let’s see it,” Ellie said.

“Can we get a photo first?” I asked.

Sam nudged me. “Manchester.”

“I dare say,” I said. “Might we snap a photo in front of these dear mannequins?”

Sam wiped the longish hairs out of his face. “Um, we’ll work on that.”

We passed several displays until we got to one of a young Daphne, who was plainly dressed, no makeup. She held a little girl’s party dress in each hand—one red, one blue. They were elaborately decorated with every embellishment imaginable—beads, sequins, and lace. The plaque said,
MS. DAPHNE WHITWORTH, FUTURE PRESIDENT AND CEO OF DAPHNE’S
.

“She looks so ordinary. I expected someone far more chic,” Caroline said. “You know, my dad knew her before she died. Her daughter is in charge of the store now. My stepmum claims to be her yoga friend, but I don’t believe her.”

Gordo said, “It’s possible. My mum knows her. Her name is Sophie.”

“Here’s a picture of her.” Sam held out his phone.

We all looked over his shoulder. “I think I’m in love,” Gordo said.

“Me too,” I almost said. She was dressed casually, in jeans and cute sneakers. She was a natural beauty. Of all the fashion looks I’d seen so far in London, this was my
favorite. It was like she wasn’t even trying to be beautiful. She just was. That was exactly the style of pretty I wanted to be.

Gordo stared at the phone’s screen. “Sophie Whitworth. I’d love to meet her!”

“So would I,” Caroline said. “My dad, as you know, has connections, and he hasn’t ever been able to get us a meeting. She leads a very private life.”

“If your faces get identified from the surveillance cameras, you might be meeting her,” Sam said.

“Where are we going now?” Ellie asked. “All I want to do is soak my tired tootsies in a hot tub and get my toes done.”

“Sounds good,” Gordo said.

“Oui,”
Caroline said. “Let’s do that.”

I had never actually had my toes done. If this was a week of adventure, maybe I should be open to exploring the concept of pretty toes to match my new look.