The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett(18)

Well, maybe reasonable wasn’t the right word.

It wasn’t that much of a stretch though.

And really, as far as paranormal creatures went, werewolves were probably the least unlikely phenomenon.

An image popped into my mind of the police chief somberly leading Lizzie’s mother into his office and motioning for her to sit. Ms. Lovett would look at him with wet eyes, tissues clutched in her hand. And the police chief would say, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your daughter has turned into a wolf.” And Ms. Lovett would be like, “We always knew this day would come.” Then the police chief would open a drawer and take out a box of silver bullets.

I started giggling all over again.

It was messed up to laugh. Totally disrespectful. But I couldn’t help it.

I was still laughing when Rush and Connor came out of the house. They stopped and looked at me like maybe I’d gone off the deep end.

“What’s wrong with you?” my brother asked.

“Nothing,” I said, trying to calm myself with a deep breath. “Or maybe everything. It could go either way.”

? ? ?

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Emily said when I called her on Sunday afternoon. “Please tell me you didn’t steal Lizzie Lovett’s job.”

“I would hardly call it stealing,” I said defensively.

“Hawthorn, what are you doing?”

“I need money to fix my car.”

“Did you even look for a job in the Mills? Or did you immediately go to Layton?”

“I looked here first. Everything sucked. And I knew the diner had an opening.” I was getting pretty annoyed about Emily’s reaction, especially since what I really wanted to talk about was my werewolf idea. If Emily couldn’t deal with my new job, then I couldn’t imagine her reaction to the rest of my news.

“I just think it’s really weird, OK?”

“It’s only a part-time job.”

“You hate people. How are you going to be a waitress?”

“Look. I admit that I went because I was curious,” I said.

“About what?”

“I wanted to see where she worked. Then everyone was really nice, and they offered me a job, and I took it.”

“How convenient,” Emily said.

“It is, actually. I need money, and this way, maybe I can get some information too. About the disappearance.”

“So you think you’re going to solve the mystery, is that it? Don’t you think the police talked to everyone who works at the café?”

“What does it matter if they don’t know the right questions to ask?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

There was a long pause. Then I said, “Listen, Em. What if Lizzie turned into a werewolf?”

“Oh, here we go,” Emily said with a sigh.

She didn’t laugh or act shocked. She didn’t tell me to stop messing around. Like I wasn’t even worthy of a reaction. It made me feel a million miles away from her.

“Look, Hawthorn, I need to get to my piano lesson.”

“No, wait,” I said. “Hear me out.”

Another sigh. “Three minutes.”

And that’s how I shared my theory about Lizzie Lovett being a werewolf out loud for the first time.

? ? ?

My mom’s vegan chili was surprisingly good, though it would have tasted even better over a hotdog. There was something called textured vegetable protein in the chili, which made me a little squeamish, but if I didn’t pay too much attention to it, I could pretend it was ground beef.

While my mom told my dad and Rush her plans for a winter garden, I thought about my conversation with Emily. She wasn’t a fan of my werewolf theory. In fact, the more I talked, the more annoyed she got. I hadn’t expected her to buy into my reasoning, but I thought maybe we could have one conversation that wasn’t about school assignments, college, and real life. Would it have killed her to play along?

“Earth to Hawthorn,” my dad said, nudging me.

I looked up. “Huh?”

“Your mom asked you to pass the cornbread. What are you thinking about over there?”

“Werewolves.”

Rush rolled his eyes.

“You know,” my dad said, “werewolf legends were very popular in medieval Europe.”

“They were?”

“It was a coping mechanism. People preferred to believe murders were committed by beasts rather than by men. Most accounts of werewolf attacks from that time would be considered serial killings today.”

“So you don’t believe in werewolves?” I asked.

“Well, no. Do you?”

“Maybe. I mean…they could exist.”

“Yeah,” Rush said. “They probably hang out with vampires and mummies.”

“You know, mummies are real, Rush. That’s not a debate,” I shot back.

“Hawthorn,” my mom said in her warning voice.

“Why the sudden interest in werewolves?” my dad asked.

“I was just thinking what if Lizzie Lovett turned into one?”

Rush pushed his chair back from the table. “That’s it. I’m out of here.”

I thought my mom would use her warning voice and tell him to sit back down, but she let him go.