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.
Technically, I’m not lying. I was standing in Hawaii earlier today.
It worked. I hear his feet shuffle away as he shouts, “If you got time, you should swing by the Lighthouse. It was lit in 1922 and is still operational today. Ain’t that something?”
“I’ll check it out. Thanks,” I shout back, knowing I won’t do any such thing.
Finally, alone inside, I pick the shirt that I’d most likely wear. After all, if I’m going to steal it, I may as well like it. Let’s see what we got here … My choices are a white shirt with a hangman on it. It reads HOW’S IT HANGIN’?… No thanks. Too cheesy.
The second shirt is a blue shirt that has a picture of a small can of pop on it, that stands on a doormat. And on it is WELCOME TO MINI SODA … Umm, nope. Even cheesier.
The third shirt is red and has a drawing of a moose on it. The moose is covered in chocolate. Under the moose it says CHOCOLATE MOOSE. Maybe I’ll come back later and steal this shirt for Wendy. She loves food. She loves eating so much that she’d probably eat a moose.
The next shirt is black and has a picture of a dragon on it, breathing fire, but the fire is a blue frost-flame, and the dragon is holding breath mints. Under it, it says DRAGON BREATH. I don’t really get it, but Lulu will. I found a winner.
I take a quick glance at the last shirt, which is gray and says OUR LAKE IS SUPERIOR and has a picture of Lake Superior during sunset. I immediately think my mom would like this shirt, which makes me feel kind of guilty for not talking to her yet. She probably misses me like crazy. Maybe later I’ll get this shirt for her. But not right now; I’m not here to feel, I’m here to steal.
I remove my shirt, put on the dragon shirt, and slip my shirt back on over it. I then put all four shirts back on the four hangers and open the door. The guy takes the shirts from me.
“How’d you do, buddy?” he asks.
“None fit right,” I say, and exit the store. “But I’ll be back.”
“Aloha,” he says as I walk toward the front entrance.
Aloha? Oh, that’s right. I’m supposed to be Hawaiian. “Aloha,” I say back.
I feel better. I feel like myself again. I walk outside and see Lulu, who is on her motorcycle, waiting for me by the curb. “That was quite the bathroom break, kid, what’s the matter with your bladder?” she sings to me, and tosses me the helmet.
“You can stop singing now,” I say, which causes her to laugh.
I slap on the helmet, and we race out of the parking lot and onto Wisconsin Street, so fast that I almost pee my pants again, which would take some explaining, since she thinks I just peed.
Within thirty minutes we are back at her home. I bet an average driver takes much longer to get back to Grand Portage, but the average driver doesn’t ride a dragon. And as we pull up to her house, I can’t believe it, but George’s brand-new bike is still exactly where I left it. People up here are so trusting. Don’t they realize there are thieves around? Lulu parks her dragon on the curb and grabs the bag of stuffed animals from one of the dragon’s compartments. I remove the helmet and climb off, following her.
She stops at the door. “So … what am I supposed to do with all these animals?” she asks.
“Beats me.”
“Okay, well, until Niimi comes back, I’m going to get some work done,” she says.
“Meaning I should leave?” I ask.
“Meaning exactly that.”
I hold the screen door open for her. “Can I ask you something?”
“I just always have been,” she says.
“What?” I ask.
“Were you not going to ask me what everyone else asks me when they find out I’m gay?” she says.
“No. I was going to ask you if you knew why Niimi wears that mask,” I say.
Lulu smiles, though I’m not sure why. “You got the hots for her, don’t you?”
“What? No!”
Plus, it’s impossible to have the hots for someone in a place so cold.
“Have you asked Niimi?” she says.
“Ask me what?” Niimi says from behind me, approaching the porch.
I turn and try to recover, hoping she didn’t overhear me. “Hey. We were just talking about what we should do with all these animals,” I say.
“Was he asking why I wear this mask?” Niimi asks Lulu.
“Yep.”
“And did you tell him about the leaking radioactive plant that is directly behind my house that has turned the upper half of my face into red blistering bubbles?” Niimi says.
“I didn’t get to that, but I was going to, right after the one about you being bit in the forehead by a great white Lake Superior shark,” Lulu says.
Niimi and Lulu laugh.
“It’s a valid question. Normal people don’t wear masks,” I say.
“Normal people?” Niimi looks around. “Have you seen a normal person around here, Lulu?”
“I haven’t seen a normal person around here in ages. In fact, I don’t even remember what they look like. Tell us, Benny, what does a normal person look like?” Lulu asks.
“Well … like me,” I say, and they both erupt in laughter.
“You’re a riot, Benny. But the time for hahas is over. Let’s go inside and root out this fear,” Niimi says, and passes me as she enters Lulu’s home. I follow them in.
Once inside, Niimi empties the bag of stuffed animals onto the carpeted floor.
I turn away so I don’t have to see the stuffed bear again.
“Benny, move this couch and coffee table to the back wall,” Niimi says, and since there is no point in refusing, I do it.
“Lulu, do you have chairs?”
“In the kitchen, and some foldouts in the garage,” Lulu says.
“Great. Get those,” Niimi says.
“Okay, umm, why?” Lulu asks as she heads into the kitchen.
“For your concert. Hurry up. Your show starts in five minutes.”
I move the couch and coffee table. Lulu brings in four table chairs and five foldout chairs. Niimi sets them up in rows; a first and second row, then places the stuffed animals into each chair, facing the front; where Lulu will be performing. The remaining stuffed animals are placed on the couch, making it the back row. The cheap seats. I keep my eyes on Lulu. I do not want to freeze up again by staring at the bear.
“Hit the lights,” Niimi says to me even though she’s much closer to the switch than I am, but again, I do it; strictly out of curiosity.
Niimi hands Lulu the guitar and nudges her to the front and center of the room, as if her living room is a stage. Lulu takes a deep breath. She looks hesitant.
“They’re just stuffed animals. Don’t worry,” Niimi says.
“But you two are watching. You’re not animals,” Lulu responds.
“Technically, we are animals, but would it help you if we blended into the crowd?” Niimi asks.
Lulu looks confused, “How can you blend into this crowd?”
Niimi smiles and reaches into her bag, pulling out two life-size animal costumes; one brown and orange turkey and one pink pig. “You want to be the mizise or the gookoosh?” she asks.
I really need to learn Ojibwe. “I’ll be the turkey.”
“Put it on,” Niimi says as she tosses the gobbler to me.
“Where do you conjure up these ideas?” I ask Niimi.
“Conjure. Good word. Write that down.”
“I just said it. It’s my word. Why would I write it down?” I ask.
“It’s my notebook. And my pen. Write it down.”
I write it down and take the turkey-wear with me to Lulu’s bathroom. After I shut the door, I remove my shirt, and my new shirt, and unzip the turkey costume. I shuffle it over my jeans and zip it up. My reflection makes me laugh. I look even sillier than when my dad and Wendy dressed me up in that ninety-nine cent Indian costume.
As soon as I waddle into the living room, I am greeted by Niimi, dressed as a pig with a mask. I toss Lulu the dragon breath shirt and take a seat. Lulu catches it and downs her eyebrows at me. “Where did you get this?” she asks me.
“It’s mine, but I think it suits you better. You can have it,” I say.
“It’s new?”
“Nah, I’ve had it for ages,” I say.
“But it still has the price tag on it,” she says, holding it up for me to see.
Niimi shoots me a look of disappointment. “We’ll deal with this later, Benny,” Niimi says.
Lulu removes her top. She wears a red bra, and her skin is adorned with more tattoos. This girl must enjoy pain. She puts on her new shirt. It fits tightly over her body, and she immediately bites the seam lines of the sleeves, then rips them off, making it sleeveless. “That’s better,” she says.
“You just bit the sleeves off the shirt. Who does that?” I say.
“Dragons do,” Lulu says.
Lulu begins to strum her guitar. The crowd of stuffed animals is her audience. This is pretty ridiculous. But let’s see if Niimi’s plan works. I guess we’ll soon find out if Lulu just flushed fifty dollars down the toilet.