The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett(90)

I cried for Vernon, but I also cried for Lizzie. I cried because I had been too weak and scared to go to her funeral, even though I’d really wanted to. I cried because I knew there had been a hundred people saying good-bye to Lizzie, but Vernon, someone who lived such a long life, barely had ten. And two of those people were waitresses from a diner he hung out at.

An elderly woman, Vernon’s sister, hugged Christa and me before we left and said, “It would have meant so much to him that you came.”

I guess that’s just the way it is. Sometimes, there are things that are really hard to do, and it sucks the whole time you’re doing them. But you also know it’s the right thing, and you might be making a huge difference for someone else.

While we were walking to our cars, Christa asked me if I wanted to get some coffee. “It’d be nice to drink coffee with you instead of serving it to other people.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That would be nice.”

So we went across the street to a little café. As we sipped our drinks, I thought about how normal it was. The sun was shining, and the coffee was steaming, and Christa and I were talking and laughing. It was simple. It was easy. It was perfect.

And life went on.





Chapter 37


The Last Thing

The last thing that happened was a walk in the snow. Which doesn’t seem like a big deal, not after everything else, but it was actually totally interesting. The walk made me realize that in real life, there isn’t actually a last thing. Nothing ends; it just turns into a different story.

But I’m probably getting ahead of myself and skipping all over the place, which I’m trying to stop.

So the end, which wasn’t really an end at all, happened like this: Sundog had a PO box in Texas. That’s where I sent the letters I wrote him. I’d started putting all my feelings on paper, just like he’d told me to. I knew the letters would stack up before Sundog was in Texas and got them. I wasn’t sure he’d even read them. But in a way, that made it easier for me to be honest.

I was in the middle of writing one of those letters, writing about how Emily had started eating lunch with me again sometimes, and how one day, Ronna Barnes even joined us, when there was a knock on the front door.

“Rush isn’t home,” I told Connor.

“I actually came to see you.”

I was pretty sure I did a terrible job hiding my surprise.

“Are you busy?” he asked.

I shook my head. Sundog could wait.

Connor looked sort of bashful, which was not an expression I was used to seeing on his all-American-boy face. He pulled a tiny, black key chain and a small box with a button on it from his pocket.

“I did this final project for my electronics class. We had to make something that helped people in their day-to-day lives. And, well, there were a few times I was over here, and you couldn’t find your keys. That gave me the idea. See, you attach this piece to your key chain. This other part has a button, and when you press it…” He pressed the button, and the key chain piece started beeping.

“That’s totally awesome. Can I look at it?” I asked, holding out a hand.

“Actually, it’s for you. You inspired me to make it, so I figured you should have it.”

“Really?”

Connor nodded and handed me the device.

“Now I need to make sure I don’t lose this,” I said, holding up the box with the button.

“You know, I didn’t really think about that.”

We both laughed, then Connor said, “You want to take a walk or something?”

“It’s freezing.”

“Oh, come on. Like walking in the snow is the craziest thing you’ve ever done.”

He had a point. I got my jacket.

We talked about regular things while we walked, like what we’d gotten for Christmas, and what classes he was taking next semester, and how I still didn’t know what I wanted to do after high school, but I wasn’t filled with dread at the thought of the future. I was surprised at how normal the whole thing felt.

“There was an article in the paper the other day about a bridge in New Philadelphia,” Connor said. “It’s supposed to be haunted. Made me think of you.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” I told him.

“Since when?”

I thought about saying since I stopped believing in werewolves, but I just shrugged.

“Thorny, we both know you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“So you’ve never had a single ghostly encounter?”

I knew Connor was teasing me, but it wasn’t mean. It wasn’t in the brotherly way Rush teased me either.

“I guess maybe one time,” I said, and it made Connor laugh. I told him about the house in the woods, the one where Enzo and I’d heard noises in the basement.

“You ever think of going back there? Finding out what it was?” he asked.

“Are you offering to go with me?”

“Sure. Why not?”

I thought about it for a minute. We could get in the car and go to the house and find out if there was really someone or something there. Maybe it was a monster. Maybe it was a serial killer. But maybe it was a bum, or a raccoon, or nothing at all.

“Nah,” I said finally. “It’s better if it’s a mystery.”