Lost in London by Cindy Callaghan Read Free Book Online

didn’t believe it. . . . It looked fantastic, red-carpet fantastic. I never felt this glam. And I liked the way it felt. She putin a couple of bobby pins, and the hairstyle looked even better.
    On our way out Caroline took a flat iron and added it to my bag. That’s when we heard something.
    Someone was humming “New York, New York.”
    We froze.

10

    With no time to hide, we clicked off the flashlight apps and stood perfectly still. Perfectly.
    Hamlet was an older man. He shuffled along without stopping at the salon, steadily proceeding to the next escalator, which he was forced to walk up, since it wasn’t moving. Once he was past us, Caroline said, “Do you know what that means?”
    “What?”
    “He has already checked all the floors above us. We can go all around now and not worry about getting caught.”
    “Don’t you think he’ll come back?”
    “Why would he? He’s done his thing. It’s not like people are just going to materialize and gallivant around dressing up and making over.”
    “It isn’t?”
    She laughed. “No. Now, let’s go to the Dress-Up Department and gallivant.”
    “Like in dresses?” I asked.
    “Not in any ordinary dresses. Wait until you see this.”
    I followed her up another floor, to Formal Wear. The landing area was set up like a prom with a disco ball, and mannequins in tuxedos and glittery gowns. We ran past the racks of dresses until we got to a back corner that was a medieval castle. It wasn’t decorated to look like a palace; it actually was a palace built inside the store. Mannequins of knights stood guard.
    Caroline walked over a bridge and into the palace. It was packed with trunks of crowns, necklaces, scarves, and scepters. Shelves of Styrofoam heads wore wigs: straight red hair, blond braids, jet-black pixie cut.
    Along the walls were hanging displays of every kind of gown you could imagine. Some were bustled and bunched up at the back, while others had long trains draped behind them. There were also costumes for boys and men: a British policeman uniform; a yeoman uniform,which was a one-piece black kilt with red trim and an embroidered red crown on the chest; and a royal guard with a red jacket, black pants, and a hat that looked like a giant black Q-tip.
    This palace was like the biggest box of dress-up clothes imaginable.
    I chose a wig that was a half mile high in tight brown curls, and a velvet gown suitable for a coronation, then disappeared behind a pretty white screen with little pink flowers painted all over it.
    Caroline grabbed a tight, red satin dress with spaghetti straps and a hot pink wig. She played music on her mobile and we changed, and then we danced around in our fancy outfits.
    I put my phone on a ledge and set it to video-record us dancing around. But the ledge was low, so I probably cut our heads off. I didn’t care. It wasn’t like this would go into the montage. I was having the best time of my life and I wanted it photo-documented. “I love this place,” I said.
    “If you think this rocks, I can show you something even more fab.”
    “No way. Better than this?”
    “Follow me.” She went toward the Hole and paused. “Shh.”
    I stood silently.
    She listened. “No humming. No squeaky shoes. The coast is clear. Let’s move on.” She ran up the escalator.
    I tugged up my dress and followed her toward the Children’s Department. I couldn’t imagine what we were going to do there until I saw it: a trampoline the size of my backyard. It was surrounded by an enchanted garden.
    Caroline kicked off her shoes, climbed on, and started bouncing. I joined her, jumping higher and higher. Finally I held my breath and gathered the layers of my gown in one hand and flipped backward, landing triumphantly on my feet.
    “Wow! How did you learn to do that?” she asked.
    “Gym class, I guess.” I plopped on my butt and popped up. “Try that.”
    She did, and she giggled the whole time.
    I tried to get some real action videos with my phone,