The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett(91)

As long as something was a mystery, there was still the potential for amazement. Maybe that’s where I went wrong before. Some riddles weren’t meant be solved.

“Do you think there’s magic?” I asked Connor.

“Sure. I mean, not like wizards and crystal balls or anything. But I think there are things in the world that shouldn’t be able to happen but happen anyway.”

“Good.”

Connor grinned at me. I smiled back. He was my older brother’s friend. I was just a kid to him. Or maybe not.

We walked down the snowy street, sometimes talking and sometimes being quiet. Sometimes, our hands bumped together by accident, but neither of us moved away.

It was January, the beginning of a new year, and it felt like a fresh start. My life was changing, but for once, that was a good thing. I felt like I was seeing the world more clearly. I knew that even though someone seemed perfect, it didn’t mean they weren’t hurting inside. And that our lives are only as good as we make them. And that there probably weren’t any werewolves.

But it didn’t take a girl turning into a wolf to make the world magical. If I kept looking, I’d always find new and fascinating adventures.

And in the future, I wouldn’t jump to conclusions or share far-fetched theories without having supporting evidence. I’d think before I spoke. I’d look for magic but wouldn’t invent it. I would be smart. I would be logical. I would act like an adult.

At least, I would try to.

I’d give it a really good attempt.

Maybe. Probably.





Acknowledgments


Sometimes I wish I could be a hermit writer and live in a cabin in the woods with zero human contact. But the truth is, this book wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for the help of so many amazing people.

This is the part where I get to gush about them.

Before I started querying, I had a list of “dream agents.” Suzie Townsend was at the top of it. Suzie, the reality of working with you is even better than I’d imagined. Thank you for your passion, your hard work, and for being my champion through every stage of this process. In addition, thank you to all the wonderful people at New Leaf Literary, with a special shout-out to Sara Stricker, Kathleen Ortiz, Mia Roman, Chris McEwen, Pouya Shahbazian, and Hilary Pecheone.

The brilliant insights of my editor, Annette Pollert-Morgan, have both improved this book and, as a whole, made me a better writer. Thank you for falling in love with Hawthorn and for being as excited to share her story as I am. And a huge thanks to the entire Sourcebooks team. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to work with such a warm, dedicated, enthusiastic group of people.

My local critique group, especially Aileen, Becky, Bill, Carlos, Chris H., Chris M., Elizabeth, JJ, Mary, Mandy, Paul, Rachel, and Raz. Not only have you helped me grow as a writer, you inspire me with your own stories every week. Thank you for Monday nights filled with shape-shifting starfish, human remains in bowling bags, singing cockroaches, and all sorts of other awesome weirdness.

The r/YAwriters crew: Alexa, Anna, Caitie, Greg, Jason, Jess, Jo, Josh, Katelyn, Katie, Kristine, Leann, Morgan, Phil, and Rachel. Thank you for feedback, for advice, for support, for laughter, for cogs, for The Line. I’d be lost without all of you.

Thank you to the Swanky Seventeen debut group. This publishing journey is so wonderfully bizarre, and I’m lucky to be on it with such kind, encouraging, and talented writers.

Joanna Farrow, a.k.a. the ghost in my attic, a.k.a. the first person not related to me who read this book. Thank you for your wisdom, for knowing when I need cookies, and for being so much more than just a critique partner.

Thank you to Dan O’Sullivan for spending hours talking writing with me and for reading and critiquing an early draft of this book. And for, along with Bobby Hicks, inadvertently giving me the idea for Hawthorn’s curses.

There’s a card from Anna Priemaza taped to my fridge that says, “You can do it!” Anna, thank you for reminding me of this a billion times and for regularly pushing me outside my comfort zone.

Thank you to Evan Sedoti for making this one of the three books he’s willingly read; Susan Schoonover-Arguelles, who after a lifetime of friendship, has put up with more crazy scheming from me than Emily has from Hawthorn; Lucy Sanchez for insights into high school life and hippie wisdom; my dad for giving me his dark sense of humor; my entire extended family for always being ridiculously supportive; and Steve Conger for getting excited about this book when it was only a vague idea (also, for werewolf hunting with me).

For years my mom told me I should write a novel. Thank you for encouraging such an impossible-seeming dream, and for raising me to believe I could become anything I wanted to be. The pride I hear in your voice when you tell people about this book means everything to me.

My incredible husband, Steve Phillips, contributed more to this novel than I could possibly list here. Thank you for believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself, for understanding when I ignored the real world for a make-believe one, and, on all those occasions I wanted to throw this book in the trash, for telling me to stop being melodramatic and keep writing.

Lastly, thank you to Joanna Bruzzese. When we were little kids, she was the first person to read my stories. She always insisted I’d be a “real” writer one day. More than anything, I wish she was here so I could hand her this book and say, “Look, Jo, you were right. I did it.”