The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett(75)

“Well. OK then,” I said.

“Are you upset?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you still want to go home?”

“Yes.”

After helping me hunt down my keys, which had somehow ended up under the bed, Enzo walked me to the door. He kissed me good-bye, like he was suddenly my boyfriend, like that was something we always did. He leaned against his open door and watched as I made my way out of the building.

“Hey, Hawthorn,” he called.

I turned.

“Do you really think Lizzie’s a werewolf?”

I thought about it. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t know much of anything tonight.”

Enzo nodded as if it was the answer he expected, and I made my way to my car, where at least I’d be alone with my thoughts.

? ? ?

What happened next is what my dad would call “learning a lesson” and my mom would call “karma.”

I got in my car, super glad Enzo wasn’t looking at me anymore so I could start to sort out my feelings. I figured I’d drive around for a bit, maybe find a place to get some coffee. I didn’t want to be at Enzo’s, but I didn’t want to be at my house either.

I put the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. The car didn’t even try to start. No clicks, no rumbling. Just silence. I tried again. More of the same.

I could just imagine how smug my parents were going to be. They’d remind me of how many times they’d told me to take my car to the mechanic.

I groaned and rested my forehead on the steering wheel. Of all the times for this to happen. Of all the places. I was going to have to drag myself back to Enzo’s apartment and ask if I could use the phone. Then someone, probably my dad, would drive all the way out to Layton, grumbling the whole way, to pick me up. I didn’t want to spend the next half hour waiting awkwardly in Enzo’s apartment. I didn’t want my dad to see where I’d been spending so much of my time. He’d think the apartment was in a bad area and think less of Enzo than he already did. He’d probably instinctively know I’d had sex for the first time and lecture me or—even worse—want to have a heart-to-heart, and it would be unbearably embarrassing.

I tried to start the car again, hoping something had changed. It hadn’t. I wished I had my cell phone on me so I could call someone without having to deal with Enzo. I wished I had someone to call besides my parents. But I didn’t, and I had to do something.

So that’s how I ended up walking home.

? ? ?

It was a long walk, so there was a lot of time to think.

About how I was no longer a virgin, how I had reached a milestone in my life, how I would always remember the first time that I had sex. Was I happy it had been with Enzo?

I thought about what would happen with me and Enzo. And if I really wanted anything more to happen. I was pretty sure that Enzo didn’t understand me as much as I pretended he did and would never be as into me as I wanted him to be. And it wasn’t because of Lizzie. For once, it didn’t all come back to Lizzie Lovett. It was just who I was and who he was.

I trudged through town, shivering the whole time. I was glad it wasn’t snowing yet. We’d had a warm fall. And walking wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be and certainly not as terrible as pacing in Enzo’s apartment while I waited for my dad to show.

Cars passed me without slowing down, and I wondered how I looked to the people inside of them. Did I seem different now that I’d lost my virginity? I knew I was supposed to feel different, but I still felt like me. Only more confused than ever.

I wondered how old Enzo had been the first time he had sex and how he’d felt afterward. I wished we were the same age, had experienced all our firsts together. Maybe our relationship would have been different if it wasn’t so unbalanced from the very start.

If I’d met Enzo when he was in high school, back when he had his notebook of bizarre events, maybe he wouldn’t have been pretending when he said he believed in werewolves. Maybe our search would have been real.

Or maybe not. I pondered the last thing Enzo said to me. Did I believe Lizzie was a werewolf? Had I ever really believed it? Out of all the things on my mind, that was maybe the most important question of all.





Chapter 30


Day Seventy-Nine

I hated my first period algebra II class even more than usual. That was because I hadn’t gotten home until three in the morning. I’d stumbled up the stairs, exhausted and freezing but thankful my parents hadn’t waited up for me. I hadn’t anticipated my mom waking me up a full hour before I had to get ready for school because the absence of my car in the driveway freaked her out.

Which made it difficult to concentrate on the problems Mr. Bennett was writing on the board without nodding off. I wished my mom had a job. Then my house would be empty all day, and I could sneak home to sleep. But no, Mom would be in the kitchen, baking vegan desserts and hanging out with her hippie friends.

That morning, when I’d been woken up after two hours of sleep, I explained about the car not starting. Surprisingly, my mom didn’t gloat or say, “I told you so.” She was too distracted by her rage. Rage that I walked from Layton to Griffin Mills in the middle of the night. Alone.

“What were you thinking?” she shouted before telling me I could have been hit by a car or mauled by a wild animal or murdered by a serial killer.