Lost in London (16 page)

“I’ll wait here,” I said. “And look in the windows.”

I strolled about half a block, to where I stumbled on Lively’s main location. Immediately I knew I wanted to get Sam a lemon tart since Ellie had eaten all the pie.

Sebastian was behind the bakery counter taking muffins out of a pan. “Oh, look what the wind blew in,” he
said to himself but loud enough for me to hear. “Where is the rest of your mob?”

“Shopping.”

“How come you’re not with them?”

“I wanted a snack.”

He placed the pan down and picked up another. “Oh, bloody blast it!” He dropped the pan. It made a loud
klunk-klank
on the ground. He held out his hand. “Wonkers! That was hot.”

I marched right behind the counter to see the burn. “Come to the sink.” I turned the knob of a big stainless steel sink and guided his burned hand under the faucet.

“Ah, that feels good,” he said.

“Do you have ice?”

“In that chest.” His eyes directed me to a giant freezer that opened like an army trunk. I broke off a chunk of ice. “Grab some butter, too, will you?”

“Ice. I read that ice is better for a burn than butter.” I wrapped the ice in a paper towel, guided his hand out of the water, and set the towel on the red spot. “How does that feel?”

“Not bad. Not good, either, but not bad.” He looked at me. “Thanks. My mum has ointment in the back. I’ll
put that on and bandage it.” Sebastian went into the back of the store, and I lost sight of him.

“Hello?” a voice called to me from the customer side of the counter. I looked at a woman in a purple pantsuit and facial wrinkles down to her elbows. She said, “I’ll have a prune Danish and tea.”

“I . . . ummm, errr . . .”

“Two lumps of sugar in the tea, dear.”

“Two?” I put what I was pretty sure was a prune Danish on a plate, and tipped some hot tea into a dainty cup. I looked around for sugar, found a canister, and plopped in two lumps. I put the plate and cup on the counter, but the lady was gone. She had sat herself down and was tucking her legs under a table.

I brought the items to her.

“Oh, thank you. You are so sweet.”

Sebastian still hadn’t returned. I went back to the scene of the burn, scooped the broken bits of blueberry muffins off the floor, and put them into the trash. I found a broom and was sweeping when Sebastian appeared with a bandage on his hand. His eyes widened when he looked at me cleaning.

“You’re cleaning up my mess?”

“I was just helping.” I thought maybe he was mad. “And that lady. She wanted a Danish—”

“You served Mrs. Sawyer?”

“I guess so.”

“Why are you trying to be so nice to me? Do you want something? Did Caroline send you here?”

“I’m not
trying
to be nice. I
am
nice.”

Sebastian seemed to accept this explanation as he sent me on my way with two free tarts.

But was I nice? I’d just made sure he’d get an F.

The London Dungeon lived up to its name. The outside was lit with medieval torches. The building was windowless and gray. Standing outside the bleak and dreary attraction, Ellie said, “Thank you! Thank you, J.J., for bringing us here. This is like a real live horror movie that we are going to go in. I swear life can’t get better than this.”

The London Dungeon was a cross between a haunted house, an amusement park ride, and a history lesson. It was like walking, or riding, through London’s haunted
history, which was presented with elaborate scenes and live actors that tried to scare you.

I looked at Caroline, who let out a yawn, which she covered with her fist.
You better get your yawns in now,
I thought.
Someone might get a little extra scared tonight.

Sam looked at his phone. “Okay. I just sent Sebastian the last pages except for the bibliography. I told him we’ll meet him tomorrow morning at Daphne’s at nine o’clock and trade it for the flash drive.”

Everything for Sebastian was ready. And we were on the cusp of entering what could’ve been hell.

A bald man dressed in a black gown like an executioner directed us to enter the damp dungeon.

Ellie said, “The best night EVER!” And she jumped around.

Inside was like a dark, scary cave. We walked a narrow path and looked at the horrible scenes in each crevice. They were disgusting displays with actors in very realistic costumes being executed, tortured, and locked in stockades and cages. It was truly horrific. Sometimes someone would jump out at us and try to catch us to bring us into their deadly world.

The medieval times were gruesome and barbaric. I’d been in London for four days, and I’d been so busy transforming myself, taking pictures and videos, writing
a paper about Pluto, hiding from the police, shopping, setting a trap for Sebastian,
and
planning this charade for Caroline that I hadn’t noticed the obvious—this place was superold, older than anything in the US. They had way more history all around them than we could ever have. That was the history I’d come here to see.

I could hear the sound of water as we progressed through the cavernous halls.

A woman dressed in rags screamed in my face, “Get in the boat! Hurry!” Fake blood dripped down her face and stuck in her matted hair. I stepped into the boat. The flat-bottom was filled with about an inch of water that soaked right through my sneakers. The boat wobbled from side to side, and I thought for a second I might go overboard. We all made it onto the craft and sat real close together on two rows of bench seats that didn’t feel strong or sturdy under my butt.

Ellie was giddy with excitement. She still didn’t know the plan, so I whispered into her double-pierced ear, “Whatever happens, just go with it. It’s all part of the secret plan that I didn’t tell you.”

“Got it.”

The boat floated down the indoor river toward fog and screams. It got darker, and Ellie said, “I think I just tinkled.”

Gordo, who was sitting next to her, said, “No, baby doll. I think that was me.”

The boat disappeared into the tunnel. The actors around us screamed in pain. One guy with a huge zipper scar on his face tried to climb into the boat with us, but Sam pushed him away. I heard Gordo let out a bloodcurdling howl, then shout, “Get off me! Get away! Ahhh!”

“What’s the matter?” Caroline asked.

It was all part of the plan.

Sam yelled like someone had cut off his arms or taken away his last cupcake. “No! No! Oh my God!”

I joined in with my own shouts of terror.

Caroline frantically asked questions, “What’s the matter? What’s going on? Ellie, where are you?”

No one answered, because we all snuck out of the boat and left Caroline all alone.

“Gordo? J.J.?” She was crying now. “What’s happening?”

From our hiding place I saw the boat float past a scene of King Henry’s daughter, who was known as Bloody Mary.

The boat came out of the tunnel to where candles hung on the walls. I saw Caroline looking around her and realizing that she was alone. All alone in the horrible cavern. She called to the ghoulish actors, “Help me! My
friends are gone! They’ve been taken.” But they ignored her and continued on with their show.

I laughed so hard that I thought that
I
might tinkle. We walked along a narrow and ghoul-less path to get to the end of the ride before Caroline, and we hid in the darkness.

At last the boat bumped the edge of a dock. Caroline jumped out. She looked at the empty boat and screamed to everyone, “Call the police. Oh my God! Oh my God, they’re all gone.”

We let her go a minute longer before coming out from the shadows. We all burst out in laughter. It was we-totally-got-you-with-this-joke laughter.

There was no way she could EVER forget this night.

Caroline didn’t think the joke was as funny as the rest of us did. Even the actors and people who worked at the London Dungeon thought it was hysterical.

“Why would you do this?” she asked Sam and Gordo.

“J.J. set it up,” Gordo said.

Sam said, “It was priceless.” He held his hand up for a high five. “Up top.” I smacked it.

“You?” she asked me, moving very close to my face. “Why?”

“You said this was a boring week,” I said. “The only
reason you were nice to me was so that you could go on a vacation. Now the joke’s on you.”

She pursed her lips and held in whatever it was she wanted to say as we made our way to the train.

As with every other train ride, the telly was on in the front of the car. Once again the news involved us.

“It’s unbelievable, Skye. Another robbery. This one was quite successful. Two famous Daphne dresses were stolen last night from Madame Tussauds.”

“Last night, Cole?”
Skye asked.
“Why are we just hearing about this now?”

“The blue and red dresses were replaced with imitations. The swap wasn’t discovered until midday. Oh, and guess where the fake dresses came from?”

“I’m gonna say the Dress-Up Department of Daphne’s. Looks like it was the Daphne’s Duo again.”

“Actually,”
Cole said,
“authorities think the real mastermind might have uploaded videos of the duo just to throw investigators off his or her scent.”

“It did, indeed,”
Skye said.

“Now the police are looking for the source of the uploaded videos with hopes that it will lead to the true mastermind behind this recent string of robberies.”

“Do you know what that means?” Gordo asked.

“They think Sebastian is the real mastermind,” we all said, and had a gut-busting laugh.

“Do you think the police will actually look for him?” I asked.

“Who cares?” Caroline asked. “Let the little poop get in trouble. Uploading those videos without our permission is probably illegal somewhere.”

“If it’s not, it should be,” Gordo agreed. Then he asked, “Do you think it’s strange that we’ve been to all three of the places where there have been crimes?”

“They’re three of the most popular tourist attractions in England,” Sam said.

“Well, I think that is smashing news,” Ellie said.

Sam asked, “That they think it’s Sebastian?”

“That they think it’s anyone other than the Daphne’s Duo here.” Ellie indicated Caroline and me. “I gotta be honest, I thought it was you guys all along.”

We huddled under umbrellas outside Daphne’s at 8:55 the next morning. It wasn’t raining hard but spitting enough to return the curl to my flat-ironed hair, which I’d pulled back into a braid. I’d ditched the crocheted cap, and Caroline had lost her beret.

At precisely nine the doors opened and we raced to Lively’s. Sebastian wasn’t there. The lady behind the counter introduced herself as his mom. I was dying to tell her what Sebastian had been up to. Sam, on the other hand, took advantage of the situation and ordered lemon
tarts without spit. Mrs. Lively was so nice, she didn’t even charge him.

“How did Sebastian get to be such a creep?” I asked Sam. “His mom seems very kind.”

“Dunno.”

Mrs. Lively said, “I called Sebastian to tell him that his friends were here looking for him. He said he was on his way.”