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Copyright © 2017 by Chelsea Sedoti
Cover and internal design © 2017 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
Cover photography by Tiffany Lausen
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Sourcebooks Fire, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
Fax: (630) 961-2168
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file with the publisher.
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1: The First Thing
Chapter 2: Day One
Chapter 3: Freshman Year
Chapter 4: The New Lizzie
Chapter 5: The Hundred Deaths of Lizzie Lovett
Chapter 6: Under the Light of the Moon
Chapter 7: The Wolf Girl
Chapter 8: A Brief History of Griffin Mills
Chapter 9: Lorenzo Calvetti
Chapter 10: Day Seventeen
Chapter 11: In the Woods
Chapter 12: Sundog and the Caravan
Chapter 13: Anima and Animus
Chapter 14: The Hunt Begins
Chapter 15: Special
Chapter 16: The Painting
Chapter 17: In Lizzie’s World
Chapter 18: Full Moon
Chapter 19: Perspective
Chapter 20: Day Thirty-Seven
Chapter 21: Welcome, October
Chapter 22: On the Threshold of Everything
Chapter 23: Shedding Skin
Chapter 24: The Almost Moment
Chapter 25: Homecoming Dance
Chapter 26: Howl
Chapter 27: Trick or Treat
Chapter 28: Terrible Everything
Chapter 29: A Strange New Place
Chapter 30: Day Seventy-Nine
Chapter 31: The Lost Girl
Chapter 32: Another Good-bye
Chapter 33: Hanged
Chapter 34: Weak, Selfish, Broken
Chapter 35: In the Woods, Again
Chapter 36: And Life Went On
Chapter 37: The Last Thing
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Cover
For Joanna Bruzzese
Chapter 1
The First Thing
The first thing that happened was Lizzie Lovett disappeared, and everyone was all, “How can someone like Lizzie be missing?” and I was like, “Who cares?” A few days later, there was talk about Lizzie maybe being dead, and it was still kinda boring, but not totally boring, because I’d never known a dead person before.
After that, I started to get fascinated by the whole situation, mostly because I noticed a bunch of weird stuff. Which was how I figured out Lizzie Lovett’s secret.
But I’m probably doing that thing again where I get ahead of myself and skip all over the place, which I’m trying to stop doing.
So the beginning, or the beginning for me at least, was when I found out Lizzie Lovett was missing. It happened like this:
It was Monday morning, and I needed an excuse to stay home. I was dreading school even more than usual, because the Welcome Back dance had been on Saturday, and I was probably the only senior at Griffin Mills High School who hadn’t gone, and everyone would be talking about it while I sat there thinking, Wow, I’m a loser.
I figured I could pretend to be sick and stay home, and by Tuesday, all the dance story swapping would’ve died down. Then no one would ask why I hadn’t gone, and I wouldn’t have to roll my eyes and say, “High school events are so stupid and pointless.” And no one would have to nod like they believed me, even though we all knew it was really because I hadn’t been asked.
But maybe I wouldn’t have to pretend to be sick, because my breakfast seemed more like silly putty than oatmeal and was quite possibly going to make me throw up.
“I don’t think I can digest this,” I said, using my spoon to make peaks and valleys.
My mom was washing dishes on the other side of the kitchen and didn’t bother to look up.
I tried again. “What’s wrong with pancakes? You could make them organic or vegan or whatever.”
“I’m not having this discussion right now, Hawthorn.”
“Or even better, we could drop being vegan completely, since it’s clearly never going to stick.”
Mom frowned, and I supposed I should shut up if I wanted to get out of school. So I sighed and shoveled a heaping spoonful of oatmeal putty into my mouth.
I immediately regretted it, because it was too much food and way too thick, and I wasn’t going to be able to swallow. Or maybe I would, but the food would get stuck on the way down, and I’d choke and die right there at the kitchen table. Which would be a super unpleasant way to go. Food I could barely identify would be my last meal, and at my funeral, my mom would cry and say, “If only I’d made pancakes like Hawthorn wanted.”
On the plus side, I wouldn’t have to go to school.
But then everyone would be like, “Oh, poor Hawthorn, she was the only girl who wasn’t asked to the Welcome Back dance, and now she’s dead,” and they’d think I was even more pathetic.
I forced myself to swallow. It was maybe, probably, the right thing to do. I glanced at my mom, but she hadn’t even noticed my near-death experience. She was looking dreamily out the window as if there was something fascinating outside and not just the same boring view of the woods.
It was almost time to leave, so I started preparing my speech about it not being in my best interest to attend school that day. But before I could begin, Rush shuffled awkwardly down the hallway toward the kitchen. This immediately got my attention, because usually I’m the awkward one in the family.
Even on mornings when Rush was hungover, he managed to come across as an energetic superjock. The pale face and unfocused eyes and lumbering around were completely abnormal for him. I took a moment to assess the situation. Maybe he was sick. He certainly looked like he had a cold or a virus.
Rush opened his mouth, but no words came out. He seemed unsteady on his feet. Suddenly, I had this thought that maybe the virus was deadly—or worse than deadly. Maybe my brother had been turned into a zombie.
I glanced at my mom to see how she was taking this new development, but she was still lost in whatever world she goes to when she’s ignoring me.
Rush hesitated in the doorway, giving me time to evaluate my options. Obviously, it was up to me to
save both me and my mom, which I found slightly unfair. If I was smart, I’d leave her to fend for herself. But considering that she gave birth to me, it wouldn’t be very nice to run off and let her be devoured by her only son. On the other hand, if I tried to save us both, there was a good chance I’d get bitten in the process, and then I’d have roughly twenty-four hours before I became a zombie too. And from what I’ve read, the process of turning into a zombie is totally painful.
Before I could take any kind of action, like trying to chop off Rush’s head, he cleared his throat. I was taken aback. Generally, the undead aren’t big communicators. Or so I’ve heard.
My mom looked over, and I could tell she knew something was up. She put down the plate she was washing. “Rush, what is it?”
I opened my mouth to tell her to keep her distance, but Rush started talking. I could accept a zombie clearing his throat, but talking was entirely out of character. Which meant I’d jumped the gun, and Rush probably wasn’t undead after all.
What Rush said, while my mind was still filled with thoughts of zombieism, was, “Lizzie Lovett is missing.”
I was disappointed. My zombie fantasy was ripped away for Lizzie Lovett of all people. I’d never been a member of the Lizzie Lovett fan club and didn’t have much interest in her whereabouts. Not to mention, if my brother really had turned into a zombie, my boring life would’ve become way more exciting. Also, it would have probably gotten me out of school.
My mom said, “She’s missing?”
Rush looked like he might cry. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. He sighed and slumped into the seat across from me. My mom left the sink and joined us at the table. We were almost like a normal family having a normal breakfast. Almost.
“Are you really having an episode over a girl you haven’t talked to in years?” I asked.
My mom gave me an unamused look, then turned to my brother with concern. “What happened, Rush?”
I could feel my chances of skipping school diminishing. But seriously, I was pretty sure Rush and Lizzie hadn’t seen each other since their graduation.
“Whatever happened, I’m sure she’s fine,” I said. “This is Lizzie Lovett we’re talking about.”
Rush ignored me. He pulled his phone from his pocket and read my mom the texts he’d gotten from one of the guys who’d been on the football team with him, Kyle something-or-other. Kyle something-or-other used to date Lizzie, which he figured was why Lizzie’s mom called him, even though they’d broken up three years ago, right after their senior year. But Kyle guessed Lizzie’s mom must be calling everyone she’d been close to, just in case. So she called and asked if he’d randomly heard from Lizzie, and of course, Kyle hadn’t, because that would be weird, and she said to let her know if he did, and Kyle said OK and blah, blah, blah.
And that’s how I found out Lizzie Lovett disappeared before it was even on the news.
“But missing from where, Rush?” my mom asked.
While Rush was taking eight million years to answer the question, my mind wandered back to zombies. I enjoyed the thought of my brother as a zombie. I quite frankly found it preferable to his actual personality. That probably meant something was very wrong with our sibling bond.
Rush was scrolling through his text messages and still hadn’t answered the question, which was kind of annoying, because I was actually a little curious, which was even more annoying. I kicked him under the table. “Seriously. Are you going to tell us what happened or not?”
Rush put his phone down and glared at me. “I don’t know details, OK? Lizzie and her boyfriend were camping, and this morning, he woke up, and she was gone.”
Silence descended on the kitchen. I decided to say what all of us were certainly thinking. “Probably the most incredible part of the story is that Lizzie Lovett went camping.”
My mom and Rush looked at me like I’d just admitted to bombing a kindergarten, and I realized, possibly, we hadn’t all been thinking that same thing.
My mom reached across the table and took my hand. “Hawthorn, I really wish you’d find more compassionate ways to express yourself.”
I was going to explain that I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I just didn’t believe anything bad could really happen to a girl like Lizzie. That’s not how her life worked.
But before I could respond, Rush asked, “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
Traitor.
“About that.” I smiled sweetly at my mom. “I was thinking I should probably stay home today.”
“Were you?”
Lizzie going missing had given me a much better excuse than just being sick. “Yeah. To, you know, comfort Rush.”
“Hawthorn, go to school.”
“Seriously?”
Mom’s expression told me she was quite serious. Like she might try to murder me if I made any attempt to resist. Which doesn’t mean I didn’t consider resisting, because I did. I knew it was pointless though.
I stood up but didn’t move toward the door. Rush was staring at his phone like he was willing it to ring. As dumb as it seemed to me, he was really worried.
I sort of felt like I should hug him. Maybe tell him I was only messing around, and I was sorry Lizzie was missing, and I was sorry it made him sad.
But then I imagined Rush rolling his eyes and pushing me away and me slinking off to school, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world.
So instead, I grabbed my backpack and left my mom and brother sitting at the kitchen table talking quietly. About poor Lizzie Lovett, no doubt.
Chapter 2
Day One
The thing is, Lizzie Lovett’s disappearance turned out to be a totally big deal, which I almost realized in my first period algebra II class but didn’t all the way realize like I should have.
What happened was, I waited in the second floor bathroom until the bell rang. I figured if I showed up late to class, I could avoid the dance talk. And it totally worked, except for Mr. Bennett being all, “Is there a reason you’re late, Miss Creely?” which was annoying but not as annoying as having to deal with my peers.
I hesitated, then decided to be honest. And by honest, I mean semihonest, since saying you were hiding in the bathroom to avoid ridicule is generally the kind of thing that opens you up to more ridicule.
“Yeah, there’s a reason. Lizzie Lovett disappeared this morning, and my brother is totally freaked out about it, so I was trying to comfort him.”
The classroom, which a second ago had been filled with normal classroom sounds, was suddenly completely silent. And everyone was staring at me like I’d run in screaming about the apocalypse.
I mentally reviewed what had come out of my mouth and was pretty sure I hadn’t accidentally said something absurd. I started getting nervous. I shifted from one foot to the other. Seriously, what was the deal?
Then I got it. No one else knew yet.
“Lizzie Lovett?” Mr. Bennett asked.
“Uh, yeah. Lizzie. Disappeared.”
From the front of the room, a painfully shrill voice asked, “Lizzie Lovett is missing?”
The voice belonged to Mychelle Adler, who I hated not just because of her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice, but also because she spelled her name with a y, though I guess that wasn’t really her fault. Also, I hated Mychelle because in our four years of high school, asking about Lizzie was possibly the nicest thing she’d ever said to me.
I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Everyone kept staring, and I was getting more uncomfortable by the second. Sometimes at school—and by sometimes, I mean a lot of times—I feel as if I’ve turned invisible without realizing it. This makes me a bit panicky, and I get the urge to be outrageous—like jump on a table in the middle of the cafeteria and tap dance—just so people will look at me and prove I still exist. But that morning, being the complete focus of everyone’
s attention, I started to think maybe being invisible wasn’t so bad after all.
“What exactly happened?” Mr. Bennett asked.
“Um, I don’t really know. Something about Lizzie going camping, which if you ask me, sounds pretty far-fetched, but whatever. I guess she was with her boyfriend, and he woke up this morning, and Lizzie was gone.”
Then everyone started talking and pulling out their phones to send texts, and there was this totally typical and boring moment where Mr. Bennett tried to regain control of the class. I took the opportunity to slip into my seat. Which was, unfortunately, right in front of Mychelle’s.
Mychelle leaned forward as soon as I sat down. I could smell her strawberry lip gloss and expensive coconut shampoo she always bragged about. Though I had to admit, she did have absurdly glossy hair, so maybe the stupid shampoo worked. “What do you think happened to her, Hawthorn?”
I shrugged and didn’t turn around. “I don’t really care.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“But she might be lost,” Mychelle said.
“She might be.”
“Or hurt.”
“Or both,” I said.
“What if she’s dead?”
That’s when I started to think bad thoughts. Like how I wished someone would replace Mychelle’s fancy shampoo with a drugstore brand. I wished she would suddenly forget the name of her five favorite songs. I wished every time she microwaved a frozen burrito, the center would stay cold.
“Hello? Hawthorn? Don’t you even care that a girl might be dead?”
I spun around in my seat and stared at Mychelle. “She’s not dead. And even if she was, you don’t care any more than I do. You’re just looking for an opportunity to be melodramatic. Leave me out of it.”
The dumb jock who sits next to Mychelle and whose name I could never remember scowled at me. “What’s your problem, Hawthorn?”
“Yeah,” Mychelle echoed, “what’s your problem?”
This was a good question. What was my problem?
• • •
Likely, part of my bad attitude was due to the fact that I really hated Lizzie Lovett. I’d always hated Lizzie, and her vanishing didn’t change that.
The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett Page 1
