Read Online Inside the Shadow City by Kirsten Miller - Free Book Online Page B

brushed against her shoulder. On the other side, however, her hair was at least four inches shorter and singed at the bottom, as if it had been set on fire. I returned with my punch to Kiki’s side, but kept my eye on the girl with the lopsided hairdo.
    â€œHer name’s DeeDee Morlock,” said Kiki, hopping onto a stool situated a safe distance from the s’mores. “This is her father’s classroom. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, he’s a chemistry professor.”
    â€œWhat happened to her hair?” I asked.
    â€œIt caught on fire during an experiment she was conducting. She’s lucky, though. The substances she was working with could have destroyed her whole block.”
    â€œSo she’s a chemist, too?”
    â€œShe puts her father to shame,” said Kiki. “Notice anything unusual about the Scout leaders?”
    â€œYeah. What’s wrong with them? Why do they all have gray hair?”
    â€œNothing’s
wrong
with them. You’ll have gray hair, too, when you’re their age. Mrs. Lupinski’s the youngest, and she turned eighty-five last week. Surprised?” she asked, noting what must have been a look of pure astonishment on my face.
    â€œHow’s it possible?”
    â€œA couple of weeks ago, our new friend DeeDee succeeded in refining a particularly dangerous strain of botulism. Do you know what that is?”
    â€œIt’s the deadliest poison on earth,” I answered. There was an entire book devoted to the subject tucked between some cans of tuna in my kitchen. I had once skimmed it while waiting for the kettle to boil. “But some women have it injected into their faces. It paralyzes the muscles and makes wrinkles disappear.”
    â€œExactly. Unfortunately, it’s too expensive for most Scout leaders, so DeeDee whipped them up a batch. Now they’re all wrinkle-free and fabulous.”
    â€œThat was nice of DeeDee,” I said, feeling a little uncomfortable.
    â€œBy all accounts, she’s a very nice girl,” Kiki noted in a scientific fashion, as if she were observing the markings on a rare species of toad.
    Once snack time had finished, Kiki hopped off her stool.
    â€œUnless you’re desperate to learn how to macramé, we’re not staying for arts and crafts,” she announced. I reached to gather my things, but Kiki stopped me. “Wait here. There’s one more thing I have to do.” She left me standing on my own while she marched across the room and pulled DeeDee aside. I witnessed the exchange of another mysterious golden envelope. When she returned, she met me with a devilish wink. “We’ll talk later,” she said, anticipating my question. “We’ve got another meeting to go to, and it’s important to get there before it starts.”
    Without any further explanation, we left Columbia University and caught a subway downtown to the East Village. When we emerged at Astor Place, it was late afternoon. I struggled with my polyester uniform, which was sticking to me uncomfortably, and tried to keep up with Kiki as she hurried toward an old Yiddish theater that doubled as a community center. Its walls were plastered with advertisements for anarchist meetings, dating services, and guitar lessons.
    The minute we stepped inside, we were immediately set upon by two chipper girls, both dressed in Girl Scout uniforms that somehow seemed vaguely punk. One of them grabbed my arm and spun me around.
    â€œThis is the best one yet!” she chirped.
    â€œDefinitely,” the other agreed. “How d’you get your hair that color? It’s so dull and lifeless!”
    â€œAnd those shoes! You look like you held up a Payless.”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sputtered once I finally regained my balance. Kiki was doubled over with laughter.
    â€œOh my God, you totally deserve an Oscar,” said one of the girls, laughing so