The Second Chance of Benjamin Waterfalls, page 12
“I trust you. I don’t trust him, though,” Lulu says, pointing to me. “I actually feel sorry for him.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I snap. “I’m not the one who just threw fifty bucks away.”
“We’ll see,” Lulu says, and turns to Niimi, “So what do I do now?”
“Practice. We’ll be back later with the necessities.”
Before Lulu goes back inside, Niimi leans in and whispers something into her ear. I’m too far away to hear it, but Lulu looks at me and nods.
I bet she’s telling Lulu not to take anything I say personally. Or maybe she’s telling her that this is all a big prank and she’s thanking her for playing along. I am starting to believe there is no boot camp. I think I’m just babysitting Niimi while she goes out and plays in the forest pretending to talk to spiders and dirt.
“What did you say to her?” I ask.
“You’ll knows soon enough,” Niimi says.
“I’ll knows soon enough?”
Niimi smiles and hands me the money before she gets onto her bike.
“What do you want me to do with all of this?” I ask.
“I have another person to bloom, so we’re going to have to split up for a few hours. What I need you to do is wait five minutes, knock on Lulu’s door, and convince her to go shopping with you. With the money, you will purchase as many stuffed animals as you can possibly carry. But the most important part is to make sure that Lulu sings every sentence she speaks, to you or anyone else you come into contact with, understand?”
“Are you kidding?” I say, and shake my head. “I’m not doing any of that.”
“Oh, yes you are, Benny, and I’ll tell you why. Because if you don’t, I’ll inform your dad that you are uncooperative. He will have no choice but to send you back, and he will then relay our disappointment to your mother, who will undoubtedly hand you back over to the handsome judge,” Niimi says as she puts on her helmet and begins to ride away.
“He wasn’t even that handsome,” I shout. “And what kind of boot camp is this, anyway?”
Boot camps are supposed to be filled with manual labor, aren’t they? Shouldn’t there be a thick-skinned dude with a buzz cut and a cigar hanging out of his mouth trying to whip me into shape by making me do push-ups and having me scale walls? Why am I not being yelled at? Why is there no one telling me how worthless I am?
And how does Niimi know so much about what’s going on with me? How does she know about my mom? The judge? Is she trying to prove to me that she can “bloom” me by showing me she can help Lulu?
Well, I got news for her. I don’t bloom. Or maybe … this is a test to see if I’ll steal the money. I’ve already thought about it. I should take it. I should ride back home and not worry about some girl’s stage fright. Lulu needs to grow up and face the music, literally.
But … it would be so ironic if what got me here is a ridiculous stuffed animal and what sends me back is refusing to buy fifty bucks’ worth of more ridiculous stuffed animals.
The words final chance ring in my head. Maybe I should just do it. Lulu will be the one looking like a fool, singing to everyone she encounters. I’ll just step back and deny I’m with her.
I walk up to Lulu’s door and knock three times.
She doesn’t answer. Oh, well, I tried. Not my fault if she doesn’t open her door. I take my first step off the porch, and the front door swings open. I turn around and see Lulu stepping out of her house and approaching me.
I start to explain the plan. “So, I’m now supposed to go with you to—”
CRACK!
Before I can finish my sentence, Lulu swings and her fist slams straight into my nose. I stumble back, tripping over my own feet, and hit the ground.
Pain sears into my brain. My eyes immediately well up and leak. It feels like hot steam is releasing through my nostrils. I taste blood. An alarm sounds off in my head screaming, “Damage!” I look up; my vision is shook. I see two Lulus. I try to blink it out as the two of her merge into one angry Lulu. “What was that for?”
“Before Niimi left, she whispered for me to check my room to see if anything was missing,” Lulu says. “And guess what?”
I reach into my backpack and pull out her microphone. Ugh. Why do all people have that same look of betrayal on their face whenever I steal something of theirs? We’re not friends. And people steal. That’s how the world works. Get over it. I hand it back to her.
“This was a gift from someone very special to me. You touch it again, and I will bury you in this yard. We clear?” she says.
“Sorry,” I say.
Now Niimi’s words make sense. I’ll knows soon enough. I’ll nose soon enough. Yeah, my nose now knows.
I’m starting to think that maybe hightailing it out of here with the fifty bucks in my pocket was the better choice.
“Hello? What do you want?” Lulu says.
I snap out of my daze, realizing I’m still standing on her porch. I must have zoned out and imagined it as I was waiting for her to answer her door. What was that? A daydream? It felt so real. I rub my nose for confirmation. It’s perfectly fine. That was so …
“Hello?” she says again. “Is there a reason you’re standing on my porch?”
“Oh yeah. Sorry. I’m supposed to take you shopping to get the supplies for your blooming or whatever,” I say.
Lulu laughs. “How’s that going to look, me hanging out with a kid?” she says.
“It will look sketchy, especially if you punch me again,” I say.
She looks confused. “When did I punch you?”
“You didn’t. But please don’t.”
“All right. Just keep your hands to yourself, and you won’t get punched.”
“Fair enough. So … you got a bike?” I ask.
She smiles. “I don’t have a bike, but I do have a dragon,” she says, and points out to the street.
I turn to see it: a motorcycle straight out of Mad Max parked on the curb. If this girl wasn’t a badass rock star a minute ago, she most definitely is now. I step off the porch and approach it. And sure enough, Lulu’s Dragon is written across its body.
“You think you can keep up with her?” Lulu asks.
I look at George’s bike. If her ride is a dragon, this bike is just a lizard. “Definitely not.”
“Then hold on tight,” she says, and dangles a set of keys in her hand.
Looks like I’m about to die.
CHAPTER 14
DRAGON BREATH
As we rip through the open roads, I hold on to Lulu for dear life and keep thinking about that weird blip in time where she punched me for stealing her microphone. Is this what guilt feels like? She doesn’t even know I took it, and if she finds out, it will be so long from now and I’ll hopefully be long gone.
I’m free; I should feel like it.
We enter the MN-61 S highway, and her dragon roars as we weave through traffic, like we’re flying through the sky, dodging metal car clouds. Every other car we pass honks, and drivers shake their fists at us. Half the time my eyes are sealed shut, but Lulu is acting like this is as natural as breathing for her; every near collision is met with a laugh from her. I feel her chuckling as I nearly pee my pants. On one side of us is the Sun Blue Lake Superior; on the other side are green and orange trees whipping past my eyes as we pick up speed.
Thirty minutes later, I hop off as soon as she parks in the parking lot. The sign says we are at the Lake Superior Trading Post. As I take a step, my legs still feel like they’re vibrating. “First time on a dragon?” she asks.
“I’ve never even ridden a horse,” I say.
“What? Now, that’s just sad.”
“But I do know places like this like the back of my hand,” I say, and point toward the multilevel shopping center.
“And you’re proud of that?” she asks.
“Yeah. Usually my friends and I spend the first hour sweeping the lot,” I say.
“What’s that mean?” Lulu asks.
“We search for expensive cars, and after we choose a few, we check the doors. You’d be surprised how many people don’t lock their doors. After we take whatever we can, we stash the stuff behind a dumpster, then we hit the mall,” I say.
“You sound like you’re not ashamed of anything you just told me,” she says.
“I just want you to know that I’m really good at something,” I say.
“Being good at something bad shouldn’t make you feel good. It just makes you a jerk, really. It’s lazy. It’s boring. Now, if you really want everyone to swoon when they see you, try being a bad boy but still being a good person. Real bad boys are kind. And being kind … now, that’s hot.”
“Be a bad boy but a good person? I’m confused,” I say.
“You’re young. You have time to figure it all out.”
“So, do you like good person bad boys?”
“I rock the niizh manidoowag flag,” she says.
“The what?” I ask.
“You know, I dance to the two spirit beat,” she clarifies.
“I don’t understand anything you’re saying.”
She laughs. “I play for the other team,” she says, and sends me a wink.
“What does that even … Oh, you mean you, like, good person bad girls?”
“You’re quick. Now, let’s go shopping, shall we?” she says, and starts to walk toward the shopping center.
“Wait!” I shout. “There’s one rule that Niimi gave. I’m just letting you know what it is in case she asks you about it, but you don’t have to do it. I’ll pretend you did. It’ll be our little secret,” I say.
She looks intrigued. “What exactly is this rule?”
“Everyone you interact with, instead of speaking to them, you have to sing your sentences to them,” I say.
Lulu laughs. “Are you serious? Did you forget the whole reason why you are here is because I can’t perform in front of people?”
“Now you see why I found you paying her fifty dollars was so funny?” I say.
“Yeah. But I already forked over the money so you better think of something.”
“Me? My job is to just … I don’t know what my job is. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing here. I’m supposed to be scrubbing toilets and washing cars or something. I have no idea how to make you sing. I’m just a thief.”
“A thief steals, so freaking steal my stage fright away.”
I laugh, but then a thought bounces around in my brain. I’m good at stealing and she’s good at singing. But in order to be a good thief, I have to get into character. I always play a browsing customer. Maybe Lulu can use this method too. Maybe she just needs to get into character. “Whenever I steal, I don’t enter the store as a thief. I walk in just like everyone else; as a customer,” I say.
“What’s your point?”
“My point is, Lulu is afraid to sing, right? So, don’t be Lulu in there. Just be a boring customer they’ll never see again. That way, when you sing to them, it won’t be you. Lulu the punk rock girl can wait out here, on her dragon.”
Lulu considers my idea … “You think that will work?”
“Beats me, but if I just blew fifty bucks on a pair of shoes, I’d make sure as hell I’d be wearing them until they fell off.”
“Meaning?” she asks.
“Meaning, use up every penny you just spent. It’s probably a stupid idea, but give it a shot. If Cookoo can’t sing either, then you’re back to being Lulu who can’t sing.”
“Cookoo? That’s my character’s name? Ha. I love it. Let’s see if it works. Now … what are we shopping for, exactly?”
“Stuffed animals,” I say and walk on.
We enter the shopping center, which would usually remind me of home. But this mall is different. I wouldn’t even call it a mall. I thought no matter where you are, all malls look and smell exactly the same. They’re always the color of a dentist’s office and smell like you just got sprayed by a perfume skunk. And they always play the same annoying holiday music that won’t leave your head for days. But this place is all wooden inside, and the shops all look like friendly little mom and pop spots. It reminds me of the Old West, even though I’m not old and I’ve never been out west.
As Lulu and I pass the various stores, my eyes wander in, picking out things to steal whenever I have the chance to come here alone. It would be easier here, there are fewer people in this trading post. Fewer people means fewer employees. Fewer employees means fewer eyes on me.
“There’s the toy store,” she says, and heads in.
We pass the aisle of action figures, dolls, puzzles, and board games, heading straight to the clearance section near the back. The area is topped floor to ceiling with discounted stuffed animals. “Which ones do we get?” Lulu sings to me.
“I really don’t think it matters,” I say, holding back a laugh.
“Awesome,” Lulu sings, and pulls down a possum. “Take as many as you can carry.”
I pull down an otter, a wolf, a loon, a moose, a bunny, and a deer. Lulu fills her arms with a horse, a monkey, a lion, a great white shark, and a giant turtle. When we can’t carry any more, we approach the register, where an older woman with neon pink lipstick greets us.
“You guys building an ark in the backyard?” the woman asks with a smile.
“Oh, no. We’re just—”
“Sing it!” I interrupt Lulu.
She stares at me and nods. After a beat, she begins to sing. “No, friendly lady, we’re just … Ahh … I can’t do it.”
“Fine. Don’t worry. I’ll still say you did,” I assure her.
“No! I’m done being quiet,” Lulu says, and closes her eyes.
“Need a minute?” the woman asks, completely confused by what’s going on.
I stare at Lulu. “Cookoo? You in there?”
Her eyes slowly open. She inhales a deep breath. “All of these animals, we’d like to purchase, and before you ask, yes, I’m singing on purpose. And to answer your question, we’re not building an ark, because if we were, why would I need this shark?” Lulu sings to the lady.
Wow. I’m impressed. Lulu rocked it.
The cashier lady looks as if she’s on the verge of laughing but doesn’t, because maybe the situation is just a bit too strange to be funny. “Okay, then. I’ll just start singing—I mean, ringing you up,” she says, and lets out a giggle while she scans the animals’ tags.
This lady is funny. I bet she’s an awesome grandma to some lucky kid.
“Thank you so much, and here’s the money,” Lulu sings, and hands the woman the cash. Then she picks up one of the stuffed animals that fell on the floor and hands it to her. “Don’t forget the bunny.”
The woman scans the final animal. “Forty-two dollars.”
“Looks like we have enough money for at least one more. Go pick the last one and meet me at the front of the store,” Lulu sings to me.
I make my way back to the wall of stuffed animals. I just need one. It doesn’t matter which one, so I reach for the closest. But … I freeze.
The animal my hand lands on is none other than the bear. The same exact stuffed bear that got me into this whole mess. The same exact stuffed bear that gave me this same exact frozen feeling the last time I saw it. Back in Duluth it was twenty bucks. Here it’s on sale for four bucks. I don’t care if it’s free, I still don’t want it.
“Not you again.”
I stand there, completely still, wondering why I can’t move. What is it about this stuffed bear that glues me to the floor? I need to breathe. I exhale and hear the shallowness in the escaping air. I’m scared, but I don’t know why. I’m not even sure if it’s fear. Maybe it’s sadness? Maybe it’s anxiety? Nerves? I don’t know; they all feel the same right now. I look into its glassy black plastic eyes and hope to see the answer, but I see nothing resembling one … Just a stuffed bear staring back at me, its gaze frozen, like mine.
“Jeez, Mr. Indecisive, I said I don’t care,” Lulu sings from behind me. “Let’s just take this bear.”
She shoves me aside, grabs the bear by its left paw, and carries it to the register.
I want to scream, No! Not that one! Any one but that one! But my voice isn’t working yet. I try to breathe slowly until my body finally unthaws and returns to normal. And by the time it does, it’s too late. Lulu has bought the bear and left the store.
What just happened? I run to catch up with her. My legs feel like jellyfish. Lulu, however, has a newfound pep in her step. I should offer to carry the humongous bag she’s carrying, but that freaking bear is in there. “You okay?” she asks, sensing my nerves.
“Yeah. I just need to pee. I’ll meet you back at your dragon,” I say, and rush off deeper into the shopping center.
But I don’t need to pee. Instead, I need to feel normal again. I need to feel like me. And I know exactly what that means. I need to steal something.
I dip into the nearest store, which happens to be a clothing store. That’s good. Clothes are easy to shoplift. As I enter, I focus on my five rules. I need to be smart and professional this time. No getting caught. No mistakes. I approach a round glass display table filled with shirts on hangers. I pluck four but remove a fifth one from the hanger and stuff it between the other four and walk up to the guy near the fitting room.
“I’d like to try these on,” I say to him.
He counts my hangers and hands me a bendable tag with a number four on it. “Just hang this outside the fitting room door,” he says, and walks me to the changing room.
“You from Grand Marais, or you just visiting?” the man asks through the door.
Why do people in small towns always want to chat? It’s so annoying that people feel the need to be friendly to faces they’ve never seen before. I’m here to steal. That’s it.
“Umm. Just visiting,” I shout back.
“Whereabouts from?” he replies.
Ugh. Old man, leave me alone. We are not friends. I need to think of somewhere that will shut him up … “Hawaii. And I’m really jet-lagged. Too tired to talk,” I shout back.
