Part 10 (2/2)
”Of course you will,” I said.
”It's statistically quite unlikely,” said Charlotte.
I don't know where she got her statistics (probably The Wall Street Journal), but I was suddenly determined that Charlotte WOULD have a boyfriend.
And then I had a Small Burst of Brain.
”What about Lewis?” I asked. Sure, he was short, but so was Charlotte. They both were really smart. They both were studious and goodhearted. They both seemed to know exactly what they wanted to do with their lives.
”What about him?” Charlotte asked. But she knew perfectly well what I meant. Her face had turned red. Oscar Wilde must have been having a field day watching this.
”He's completely revised my thinking on computer dudes, you know,” I said. ”I told you, he took it upon himself to text message me when I was lost. He's the one who got me to where the group was in the Louvre. Lewis, like, saved me. And that virtual tour thing of the cemetery he found and figured out how to use-that was remarkable. You have to admit it. He's not your run-of-the-mill guy.”
I snuck a quick look at Charlotte's face. She was doing the eyebrow arch thing, but she was directing it at one of her shoelaces.
”I don't know, Lily,” she said finally.
”Charlotte, I'm not asking you to MARRY him. I'm just saying, you know. Keep it somewhere in the back of your mind. He could be Boyfriend Material. And remember, I AM an expert.”
I knew well enough to quit while I was ahead. I initiated an Abrupt Subject Change.
”It's getting late,” I said. ”It's already six and aren't we supposed to meet back at the VEI before dinner, at seven?”
”Yes,” said Charlotte, looking relieved to have a new topic of conversation. ”We'll have just enough time. Come on.”
I blew Oscar a kiss good-bye, and we did the little half-jog thing down the central path. Eventually I could see the main gates ahead of us, and I felt relieved that we were almost there.
But something looked wrong.
As we got closer and closer to the gates, it registered in my brain that they were, indeed, GATES. They were tall gates, and those tall gates were CLOSED. The Pere Lachaise Cemetery had been locked up tighter than w.i.l.l.y Wonka's Chocolate Factory after the Oompa Loompas were hired.
”Good grief, we're locked in!” I cried.
Charlotte skidded to a stop next to me, unusually silent.
”We're locked in!” I repeated.
We could see the road and the sidewalk just through the gates. But these were serious can't-be-climbed, can't-be-gotten-around gates. These gates meant Business.
”There must be SOMEONE around,” Charlotte said. ”These gates can't have been locked for more than a few minutes. Where did our friends go? They were supposed to wait for us right outside the gates.”
We called h.e.l.lO in every direction, but no guard appeared. However, Lewis, Tim, and Janet did appear on the other side of the fence. A moment later Bonnie appeared as well.
”There you guys are,” Lewis said. ”Did you find the camera? We gotta motivate. Hey, is this thing locked?”
”Honestly, girls, what are you doing?” Janet called. ”You aren't supposed to be in there anymore. The cemetery is ferme for the evening.”
”If you knew they were locking the gates, why didn't you stop them?” I hissed at Jah-nay.
”We didn't know, man,” Bonnie said, staring up at the pointy tops of the gate. ”We were sitting on some benches down the street.”
”You girls better do something, tout de suite, before they let out les chiens de garde,” said Janet.
Everybody, on both sides of the gate, froze.
”What did you say?” I asked.
Janet, I fear with some evident satisfaction, pointed to a sign mounted on one of the gates. It read: ATTENTION-CHIENS DE GARDE ”Guard dogs?” yelled Tim, getting an A for accuracy in Spontaneous French Sign Translation. ”They've got guard dogs on duty in there? You guys have got to get out right now!”
Nice. Evening was approaching. We were locked in the inner city of the living dead. And any moment now we were likely to be approached by a salivating German shepherd with an antisocial canine personality disorder.
”Lewis!” Charlotte cried. ”Think! There must be SOMETHING! If anyone can get us out of here, you can!”
For the third time in so many days Lewis spontaneously went crimson in the face and neck. I think, actually, this might have been his most significant blush yet. He whipped out his Sidekick and began to type.
It was around then that Chaz and Bud showed up, taking in our situation with a staccato stream of laughter.
”Climb it!” cried Bud. Or Chaz.
”We can't climb it. It's too slick and too high, and there's pointy things at the top,” Charlotte said. ”There's nothing to get a grip with.”
Which was exactly what I needed to do at that moment. Get a grip.
”No, seriously, just climb it,” repeated Chaz. Or Bud. ”We climb over locked gates all the time.”
”Well, we don't,” I said.
Lewis seemed to have found something on the computer.
”I don't think text messaging is going to help when we're being torn limb from limb by the rabid French Chiens of the Dead,” I said. Charlotte shushed me.
”Okay, I've found a phone number on a tourist website,” Lewis said. ”I can call it on my cell, but I might not be able to get them to understand me. Who speaks the best French?”
”Jah-nay,” said Charlotte and I simultaneously.
Janet looked triumphantly pleased. She clasped her hands together and pressed them to her heart. But before she could deliver an acceptance speech, I interrupted. Well-timed flattery could be a highly effective tool.
”Yep, n.o.body can speak French better than Jah-nay. Did you dial, Lewis? Is it ringing? Are you ready, Jah-nay? Any second now.”
Lewis held up one finger. He was holding his cell phone to his ear. Then suddenly, as if he'd just discovered it was a hand grenade, he waved it in Janet's face. She took the phone quickly, and put it to her ear.
”Allo, oui? Je m'appelle Jahnay, et je suis une americaine qui visite le Cimetiere Pere Lachaise. Maintenant mes deux amies sont accidentellement fermees dedans.... Oui?...Oui?...Formidable, merci bien.”
Wow. She spoke French as well as Lindy Sloane. I didn't remember her speaking that well before. Had Janet been using her time in Paris to practice her French?
Janet put her hand over the phone. ”The security office is nearby. Someone is coming out.”
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