mother-daughter duo spoke French to each other and pointed in the general vicinity of the palace, then asked me for directions. I jotted some down on a napkin in a blocky imitation of Cilla’s half-capitalized, half-lowercase script.
“Merci,” the mother said. “Me, I don’t care, but Giselle is hoping the prince will notice her if she walks past the windows.”
“You mean Frederick?” I asked, feigning uncertainty.
“No, the other,” the mom said dismissively. “The one married to that American whore. Giselle gives them two more months at most.”
They packed up and left, and I tried not to laugh into the remaining sliver of my Big Mac. Giselle’s mother had no idea she was speaking to the American whore in question. Margot had pulled it off. Margot was feeling it.
An hour later, high on my own supply, I’d bought a hideous, scratchy sweater for almost nothing at H&M, picked up croissants at a bakery for next morning’s breakfast, tried some free samples at Boots, and pressed my luck by reading a paper out in the open that had an actual photo of me on it. I could have stayed out all day, but the sheer number of smartphones and swelling scrums of shoppers started to make me jumpy, so I decided to count my blessings and go home. This plan fell apart when I realized that I hadn’t thought about how I was going to get back inside the palace, but I’d practically brought enough cash to bail myself out of jail, so I bought a ticket like everyone else and skulked back past the gift shop with its crimson signs marked ROYAL WEDDING SOUVENIRS: CLEARANCE SALE, 80% OFF.
I hesitated, then picked up my phone and sent a quick selfie to Lacey.
I’m on a field trip, I texted. Then I slid my phone back into my pocket and nonchalantly bought a mug with my own face on it. My phone buzzed as I was heading back out to the bathrooms.
YOU REBEL, Lacey had replied.
The corridor near the bathrooms was busier now. But I couldn’t bail and reenter through our main gate, because I’d have to reveal myself—to the guards, and possibly also to the paparazzi that lingered nearby, if not directly outside—and Margot would be exposed. So I hovered near the water fountain until there was a mild slowdown in bathroom traffic, then muttered, “TP empty in stall three—I’m on it” into my collar like some kind of custodial spy, and slipped into the cleaning closet. The next step was more complicated: All Nick had told me about getting back into their apartments was that they’d pulled the fire alarm, which now that I was supposed to do it seemed absurd and also like a felony. Wildly, I looked around the room, clocking the stock of toilet paper and hand sanitizer and the fire alarm itself, plus some mops and buckets and a fire alarm, and…aha, two fire alarms. One by the door, and the other poking out from behind a tall set of metal shelves. It looked substantially older and the plastic around it was cracked, but artfully so, as if to give the impression it was defunct. I could hear voices in the hallway getting nearer, so I took a deep breath, lifted the plastic casing, and pulled.
The door back to Freddie’s place sprang open. Biting back a triumphant whoop, I scrambled through and pulled it closed, running back through the tunnel and tumbling out the other side as an elated giggle escaped my lips. I’d done it.
“That’s quite a getup you’re sporting, Killer.”
My giggle turned to a comically deep gasp. “Shit, Freddie, you scared me.”
“I scared you?” he said, leaning his billiard cue against the wall. “Imagine how I felt, coming in for a peaceful game of snooker, only to have a strange blonde fall through my wall.”
Sheepishly, I pulled off the wig. “It was an experiment.”
“The hair, or the passage?” he asked.
“Both,” I said. “This will sound stupid to you, given everything that’s happening with Eleanor, but I got sick of staring at fabric samples so I decided to—”
“You don’t have to justify it to me,” Freddie said. “I used to give my PPOs the slip all the time. I strolled right into that card company you worked for, remember?”
“I do. Because it was the same day Lacey and I led the paparazzi on a wild-goose chase, and Nick got so mad at us for it.” I pursed my lips. “He might not be very happy that I went