The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett(84)

A colorful scarf was sitting on my desk, the scarf left behind by one of the hippies. I picked it up and tied a slip knot, another thing I’d learned while researching. I walked to the mirror and looked at myself. Pale, plain, dark circles under my eyes. I looked as dead as Lizzie. I put the scarf around my neck.

I reached behind me and tightened the noose, just to enough to be uncomfortable. Then I pulled it tighter. It surprised me that I could still breathe just fine. I expected to feel my throat closing, pushing all the air out of my body, but it wasn’t like that at all. Instead, my head started to throb, pulsing in tune with my heartbeat. A warm tingly sensation started behind my eyes, and I got dizzy.

Then my door opened, and Rush leaned in, saying, “Hey, Mom wants to know if—what the fuck are you doing?”

I tore the scarf from my neck, and there was a sudden jolt in my head. “Nothing. Keep your voice down.”

He strode into my room. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything. I just wanted to see what it was like.” I rubbed at my neck. It felt sore, and I hoped I hadn’t held the scarf tight enough to leave a mark.

Rush’s voice still seemed very loud. “This isn’t a game.”

“I know. I was just curious. Please don’t say anything to Mom and Dad.”

I could feel a headache starting. Was it from the scarf or the stress of my brother walking in at the worst possible moment?

“Promise me you weren’t trying to hurt yourself.”

“I promise. I just…” I started to tear up. “I just wanted to know what it was like for Lizzie at the end. I don’t want to kill myself. I swear.”

Rush sighed.

“Honest, Rush.”

He held out his hand. “Give me the scarf.”

“It’s mine,” I said, holding it to my chest. My last piece of the hippie caravan. But Rush continued to hold his hand out until I grudgingly passed the scarf to him.

“I never want to see anything like this again,” he said.

“You won’t.”

He looked at me for a long time, like he still wasn’t sure if he believed me. “You take everything too far, Hawthorn.”

That was probably an accurate assessment of my character. Before I could tell him so, my mom appeared in the doorway.

“What are you two doing?” she asked. Then to Rush, “Did you ask Hawthorn if she wants to play Monopoly with us?”

“I did.” Rush gave me a look. “She said she’d love to.”





Chapter 34


Weak, Selfish, Broken

The day they found Lizzie’s body was the worst day. But the day after Thanksgiving came pretty close to beating it.

Christa and I were both working. Even Mr. Walczak was there to oversee the diner. He seemed to be expecting a big lunch rush, like people would be craving scrambled eggs from the Sunshine Café after they finished their Black Friday shopping. That didn’t exactly happen, but to his credit, we were busier than usual.

In between waiting tables, Christa told me all about her family’s Thanksgiving. Her younger sister got into a huge fight with her fiancé about the wedding cookie table, and their grandfather got drunk and kept saying the food was overcooked, which made her mom cry, and her youngest cousin announced that she was dropping out of school and moving to New York to become an actress. It seemed chaotic in a totally normal, comforting way.

“And then,” she said, as we passed each other in the kitchen doorway, “my sister said maybe she should call off the entire wedding, which made my mom just about lose it.”

I laughed and carried food to an elderly couple in the dining room. As I was asking if there was anything else they needed, the bell on the door jingled. I turned to greet the new customers, and for a second, it was as if the whole world stopped.

Mychelle Adler walked into the café, her shark smile on her face. And two feet behind her, sheepish, hands in his pockets, was Enzo.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Christa come out of the kitchen, tray in hand. She stopped too, her mouth an O of surprise. Even Vernon seemed alert in his place at the counter, waiting to see what would happen next.

Then the world rushed back to life. There was movement and sound, and I knew Christa was starting to tell me she’d handle it, but it was too late. My feet were already moving in their direction.

“Mychelle,” I said, sounding calmer than I felt. “I didn’t think you ate at this sort of place.”

“I make exceptions sometimes. And I know Lorenzo enjoys eating here.” She reached behind her and grabbed Enzo’s arm, pulling him next to her.

“How nice of you to look out for Lorenzo’s feelings.”

“We shouldn’t have come,” Enzo mumbled, and I didn’t know if he was talking to me or Mychelle.

“Nonsense,” Mychelle said. “I’m sure Hawthorn’s been dying to see you.”

Enzo shifted his gaze to me, and I looked back. I wasn’t about to duck my head or scamper away.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“OK. You?”

“OK.”

And that was it. After everything that had happened between us, that was all we had to say to each other. I was sad in a way I’d never felt before, like part of myself was being torn away violently.