The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett(14)

A crowd of people surrounded the bandstand. My mom and I were in the middle of the mess. People crushed against us like we were at a concert, making the September evening seem warmer than it actually was. I saw kids from school, neighbors, and people who graduated the same year as Rush. There were a bunch of people I didn’t recognize though. Lizzie had lots of friends. Or, at least, a lot of people who wanted to be her friend.

Volunteers from the middle school were weaving through the crowd, handing out white daisies and telling people they were Lizzie’s favorite flower.

“Daisies? Aren’t we supposed to have candles?” I asked my mom.

“I think the flowers are nice.”

You could tell who the reporters were, even the ones who didn’t have camera crews with them or little notepads in their hands. They were dressed too professionally, watching everything too closely. I wished I were one of them, that I didn’t have anything to do with Griffin Mills and had only shown up because it was my job.

“There’s your brother,” my mom said. She waved her hand above the crowd, trying to get his attention.

Either Rush didn’t see her or he pretended not to. That’s what I would have done. He was with his best friend, Connor, and the two of them had the attention of some giggling middle school girls. That’s how it is for people who used to play football in the Mills, especially the guys who are still young and attractive. They’re minor celebrities young girls dare each other to talk to.

“He doesn’t see us. Let’s go say hi.”

“Mom, no. Just no.”

“I’m not going to embarrass him, Hawthorn.”

“You’re going to embarrass me.”

Before my mom could respond, the mayor stepped up to the microphone, tapped it once to see if it was working, then launched into a speech about how in tragic times, it’s so important for a community to come together and blah, blah, blah. I shifted from foot to foot and looked around at the crowd, at all the people who loved Lizzie gathered in one place.

Part of me wished something terrible would happen. Like maybe there was a fault line running through the park, and there’d be an earthquake, and the ground would split open, and we’d all be swallowed. Or a flash flood would wash away everyone at the vigil. Then the world would pretty much be free of anyone who cared about Lizzie. It would be like she never existed.

Only she did exist. And she was probably out there somewhere watching the news coverage, laughing about how easily she’d tricked everyone. Then she’d go to a new town and start over. Make a whole new group of people love her. And maybe, if they were lucky, she’d deem a few of those people worthy enough to get her love in return.

Lizzie’s mom took the microphone next. She was a tired-looking woman in wrinkled clothes. A woman whose appearance had clearly stopped mattering to her since her daughter disappeared.

“I want to thank everyone for coming,” Ms. Lovett said. “I wish Elizabeth could see us gathered together like this.”

She paused and blinked back tears, trying to stay composed while she pleaded with the crowd to find her only child.

“I also want to thank everyone who’s been part of the search party and answering phones on the tip line we’ve set up. I know my daughter is out there, and I know we’ll bring her home.”

Another pause. Ms. Lovett pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

“Father Patrick is going to lead us in a prayer, but first, I wanted to say a few words about Elizabeth.”

She reached into her pocket again and pulled out a piece of paper. She unfolded it and held it in a hand that shook as much as her voice.

“Those who know Elizabeth know how full of life she is. Even as a baby, she was always smiling.”

Ms. Lovett droned on and on about how great Lizzie is, as if everyone hadn’t heard it a million times already. Lizzie was the reason her squad had won the state cheerleading competition years ago. She was so friendly that she got Christmas cards from people she’d only met once. She was so selfless that she donated a third of every paycheck to some wildlife conservation society. Smart, pretty, talented, humble. Lizzie Lovett was perfect.

I stopped listening and started looking around.

That’s when I saw movement on the other side of the bandstand. People parted as someone pushed through the crowd. He climbed up the steps toward Lizzie’s mom. Shoulders slouched, hands shoved into the pockets of a wrinkled gray cardigan. His longish, dark hair hung in his eyes. Lorenzo Calvetti, late for his own girlfriend’s vigil.

Even from where I was, I could see the head of police frowning at him. Ms. Lovett paused and motioned Lorenzo to her, wrapping an arm around his skinny shoulders.

“Elizabeth’s absence has left a hole in many lives. She… I know my daughter. She didn’t run away. She’s out there in those woods, and she’s alone and scared. I just want her to come home safely. I need her to come home.”

Ms. Lovett broke down. Lorenzo shifted his weight, like he knew he was supposed to comfort her but didn’t know how. Mayor Thompson ended up being the one to do it. He stepped forward and whispered some things in Ms. Lovett’s ear and pulled her back from the microphone.

The police officer took over and talked about where the search parties would be meeting the next day and what people could do to help. Then the priest led the gathering in prayer. I watched the people on the bandstand. Ms. Lovett wiping her eyes. Lorenzo Calvetti running his hands through his hair. Lorenzo Calvetti looking down at his feet. Lorenzo Calvetti looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. Lizzie was missing, but Lorenzo was the one who seemed in need of rescue.