The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett(45)

“I never said he did,” Connor said as if explaining something to a child.

I meant to tell Connor not to talk to me like that but instead asked, “Do you dislike him?”

“I don’t even know him.”

“Fair enough.”

For a little while, there was silence. I cracked the window, let the chilly air hit my face. The road was smooth, and Connor’s car didn’t bounce and jerk around like mine did. I was just starting to relax when Connor spoke.

“Your brother has been drunk more times than I can count, but I never thought I’d be the designated driver for the younger Creely.”

“Little Creely,” I mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

What was I doing in Connor’s car? Why had I gone to the party in the first place? I wanted the world to make sense again.

The full moon lit up the road in front of us. Connor could have cut the headlights and still had enough light to see. It made me think of Lizzie, out by herself in the woods. What was she thinking and doing at that moment? Did she feel like she was finally home?

I must have lost the battle and fallen asleep after that. The next thing I was aware of was Connor opening the passenger door.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand to help me. “You’re home.”

My eyes didn’t want to focus. My mouth had a horrible taste in it, worse than any vegan food my mom had ever made me eat. I tried to get out of the car without any help, but I stood up too fast, and it made my head pound. I took Connor’s hand.

“This is the worst night of my life,” I mumbled as he helped me across the yard.

“If this is the worst, you should count yourself lucky.”

I wasn’t lucky though. Lizzie was the lucky one. Lucky Lizzie who always got everything she wanted. She wouldn’t have thrown up at the party. And Enzo wouldn’t have left her side, not for a minute.

Connor helped me up the stairs and unlocked the front door for me.

“Are you going to make it to your room?” he asked.

“You offering to tuck me in too?”

Connor laughed and shook his head. “Just making sure you’re OK, Thorny.”

“I am.”

“All right. Good night then.”

“Night,” I said.

I went inside the house and began the monumental task of climbing the stairs. Halfway up, I considered lying down and going to sleep right there but figured that would probably make my mom ask several questions—none of which I wanted to answer. So instead, I very slowly and carefully dragged myself to bed.





Chapter 19


Perspective

I would have gladly slept in until noon the next day, but Rush didn’t give me the opportunity. I woke up to him shaking me.

“Go away,” I moaned, shoving my head under a pillow.

“Come on, get up.” He snatched the pillow away. “We need to go back to the Barn.”

I squinted up at him, wondering when sunlight had become so painful. “Are you crazy? Why would I ever go back there?”

“To get your car, remember?”

I moaned again.

Rush was obnoxiously perky for so early in the morning. I would have wanted to kill him, except he got me Tylenol and coffee and gave my parents some story about how I’d run out of gas the night before, and he was taking me to fill up the tank.

“Thanks for doing all this,” I told him once we were in the car and heading to the Barn.

In response, Rush asked, “What’s going on with you and that Enzo guy?”

“You could just say you’re welcome.”

“And you could just answer the question.”

“Enzo and I are friends. That’s all.”

“Keep it that way.”

“You sound like Emily,” I grumbled. A phrase I never thought I’d utter.

Rush glanced over at me. I was surprised to see that he actually seemed worried. “There’s something not right about Enzo.”

“Like he may be a murderer?”

“No, Hawthorn. Like he’s a loser who will drag you down with him.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t. We drove in silence.

Who was Rush to lecture me? Like he was a master of great decisions or something? Like he had his life together?

The longer the silence stretched, the more annoyed I got. Finally, I blurted out, “You can’t just be my brother when it’s convenient for you.”

“What?” Rush looked at me sharply.

“You can’t sit here and lecture me about how Enzo is bad news, even though most of the time, it’s like you forget you even have a sibling. For all you know, I could be hanging out with people who are bad for me every single day. You don’t know anything about my life.”

“I don’t know anything about your life because you don’t tell me anything about it, Hawthorn.”

“I’ve tried to.”

“When have you ever done that?”

I was silent.

“And when have you ever wanted to know about mine?” Rush went on. “I can’t say anything without getting insulted by you. Football is stupid; the girls I date are stupid; I’m stupid. If that’s how you feel, fine, whatever. But don’t sit there and act like I’m a shitty brother, OK?”