The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett(35)

Otherwise, the camp was empty. Sundog and I sat down on a tattered Indian blanket.

“Where is everyone?”

“In town looking for work.”

“What work?” I asked warily. I imagined one of the caravan members getting a job at the stupid shoe boutique and deciding to stay forever.

“Odd jobs mostly, yard work and that sort of thing. Or they sell our goods.”

He meant hemp necklaces and organic shampoo and who knew what else. They’d conned Rush into making purchases on at least three separate occasions.

“Do you work?”

“Not anymore,” Sundog said. “I’m too old for that now.”

“Do you ever feel like Charles Manson?” I asked.

Sundog laughed. I hadn’t meant to make a joke.

“Why would you say that?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

“I mean, you’re the leader of this…I don’t know, commune.”

Sundog took both of my hands in his and looked me straight in the eye, which was sort of uncomfortable. Most people don’t really look at you for more than a second. It also made me want to listen to what he had to say. Maybe that’s the trick to getting whatever you want from life—making people feel like you see them.

“Hawthorn, Charles Manson took something beautiful—the idea of community, of oneness—and turned it into evil. We embrace the light.”

“But this is a commune, right? A traveling one?”

“Commune is just a label. What does it even mean?”

“Um, the dictionary would have me believe it’s a group of people living together and sharing everything.”

“We love and respect each other, Hawthorn. That’s what matters.”

I pulled my hands away, because it was getting a little weird. Journey was still meditating, deep in some other cognitive state. Which was good, because I had another question for Sundog, and I didn’t want anyone eavesdropping.

“Can I ask you something?”

Sundog laughed again. “You should never ask to ask a question.”

It wasn’t that I thought Sundog had all the answers. He was my mom’s mentor, not mine. But I suspected he’d at least take me seriously, and that was better than what I usually got.

“OK, well, do you believe in werewolves?”

I was right—Sundog didn’t flinch. He didn’t look surprised. He quietly considered the question, and that made me love him a little bit.

“I believe there are two sides to every individual. I believe we all have a beast.”

“But what about a human turning into a wolf?”

“The most beautiful thing about the world is how much is unknown to us. There are so many secrets, Hawthorn. So much awaiting discovery. We are merely dust motes in the vastness of the universe.”

Something wet touched my arm, and I jumped. Timothy Leary was rubbing her cold nose against me. I reached out to pet her and wondered if she understood what we were talking about. Maybe some canine connection had prompted the dog to come over and vouch for the existence of werewolves.

“Did you hear about the girl who disappeared a while ago?” I asked.

Sundog nodded. “It’s a bad time to be an outsider in Griffin Mills.”

I didn’t break it to him that the caravan members would be treated with suspicion in Griffin Mills whether there was a missing person or not.

“I thought maybe she turned into a wolf,” I said, keeping my eyes on Timothy Leary. She craned her neck so I could scratch under her tie-dyed bandana. “Yesterday, I went looking for her. Her boyfriend went with me.”

“And did you find a wolf?”

“No. But we only searched a small area.”

Sundog reached out and touched my hands again. Timothy Leary tried to wriggle between us.

“Absence of proof is not proof of absence.”

“So you think it could be true?”

“We all have cosmic awareness inside of us. We’re born knowing everything about the world, and then society makes us forget it. But there’s still a part of us that remembers. What do you see when you look inside yourself?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then you need to look deeper.”

“And what if I see Lizzie as a werewolf?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

I stood up and brushed the dog fur off my clothes.

“I have to get ready for work,” I told Sundog. “But thanks.”

I expected him to say, “For what?” and I would tell him, “For believing that anything is possible.”

Instead, he smiled and said, “Namaste, Hawthorn.”

Whatever that meant.

? ? ?

My car keys had gone MIA, and I was losing hope that I’d make it to the Sunshine Café on time. This was apparently very amusing to Connor. He’d come over to hang out with Rush but had settled for watching me tear the living room apart.

“How would your keys have ended up there?” Connor laughed as I peered behind the entertainment center.

I took a moment to scowl at him before moving to the couch and lifting the cushions. There were no keys, but I did find part of a candy bar wrapper. I wondered whether it had been my dad or brother who snuck the contraband food into the house.