The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett(20)

“Griffin Mills is a haunted town,” I read. “Not by the ghost of Samuel Griffin but by generations of people who told his story simply because there was nothing better to do.”

Kids who’d been shifting in their seats and rustling papers stopped. The room was totally quiet.

“This will always be a steel mill town, even though the last mill closed more than twenty years ago. It’s a place where boys enlist in the army and are disappointed if there’s not a war to fight. It’s a town of mechanics and plumbers, of drunken brawls and Friday night football games. Kids who grow up in the Mills dream of what life would be like elsewhere and count the days until they can get out and experience it, even though, deep down, they know they never will.”

Someone coughed, that awkward sort of cough when you want to say something, but you have no idea what that something is.

“Griffin Mills is a town that’s perpetually bored with itself but too stubborn to dry up. So instead of dying gracefully, it’s a slow, painful process, one that’s embarrassing to watch. Because Griffin Mills is dying, and the people who live here are dying with it.”

I heard a few whispers. I was pretty sure they weren’t about my fantastic writing ability.

I said the last lines in a rush. “Every story has a beginning, and every story has an end. The Mills has reached its epilogue.”

If my life were a movie, I would’ve been all nervous about reading my paper, but I’d do it anyway. There would be a really dramatic pause at the end, an awkward silence, but then someone would start a slow clap, and the rest of the room would join in, and just like that, I’d go from being me to being someone who is brilliant and likable.

My life isn’t a movie.

A glance around the classroom was enough to determine my essay wasn’t going to do much for my popularity.

Mike Jacobs, who’s the captain of the football team, said, “Nice, Hawthorn.”

Some kids laughed.

Jessica Massi raised her hand and, without waiting to be called on, said, “I thought we were supposed to write a history of Griffin Mills, not insult the whole town.”

The kids around her nodded in agreement.

I looked at Mr. Romano. Sympathy was written all over his face, as if he was just realizing he’d made a terrible mistake.

“I think Hawthorn’s paper raises a lot of interesting points for us to discuss.”

“Yeah, like how she’s pathetic.”

I couldn’t tell where that last comment came from, but it didn’t matter. I retreated to my desk while Mr. Romano tried to regain control of the class.

Emily leaned across the aisle. “It really was a good paper.”

“It was stupid.”

“No, they’re stupid.”

She was right. They were stupid. But not so stupid that they’d write an essay like mine. So really, who was the biggest idiot?

? ? ?

I had my first shift at the Sunshine Café after school that day. Christa trained me. There wasn’t much to learn.

“As long as you’re friendly, you’ll be fine,” she said.

If that was the case, I was a long way from fine, but I didn’t tell her that.

The same old man was at the same spot at the end of the lunch counter. Christa told me his name was Vernon and he was always there. Other than that, there were only two tables of people the entire night. It seemed like working at the Sunshine Café mostly meant sitting around.

“So there’s no word on Lizzie Lovett, huh?” I asked, trying to sound causal.

Christa was showing me how to work the coffee machine, as if it were complicated.

“Nope. But her boyfriend was in here the other night.”

“In the diner?”

Christa nodded. “He used to come here while she was working. I didn’t expect he’d show up now.”

“I saw his picture in the paper,” I said. “They looked sort of mismatched to me.”

“I couldn’t say. I didn’t really know either of them.”

“But you and Lizzie worked together for a while, right?”

“That doesn’t mean you know someone,” Christa said. “Lizzie kept to herself.”

“Did you like her?” I asked, wondering if I was pushing the conversation too far. Christa was going to think I had ulterior motives. Which I did.

“We got along.”

If I’d known her a little better, I would have told Christa that didn’t answer the question. Instead, I let her lead me from the coffeemaker to the closet where extra napkins and sugar packets were stored.

A little later, Christa asked me to watch the diner while she called her boyfriend. There wasn’t much to watch, so I sat down next to Vernon. He was halfway through a word search.

“Hi.”

Vernon didn’t respond.

“My name’s Hawthorn. I’m the new waitress. Lizzie’s replacement. Did you know her?”

Still nothing.

“This is my first shift. Which is sort of bad timing, because my day sucked.”

Vernon still didn’t speak, but he made a harrumph sound, which I figured meant it was OK to continue.

“I had to write this paper about Griffin Mills, and I wrote the truth, which is that the town is totally lame. I didn’t think anyone besides my teacher would ever read it.”