“You know, marshmallows would really make this campfire better,” I said.
Sundog laughed, even though I was pretty sure he was morally opposed to marshmallows since they were made with gelatin, which was made from animal bones and skin, which my mom told me all about when I was little. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten a s’more.
“Do you think everyone changes after high school?” I asked Sundog.
“Young Hawthorn, everyone changes always. The universe is in a constant state of flux.”
“But let’s talk about high school specifically.”
Sundog thought for a moment. “You could say high school is a time to figure out who you want to be, so you can go out into the world and work toward becoming that person.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Timothy Leary wandered over to us and plopped down in front of me. I used my fingers to comb through her tangled fur.
“Where’d you live before you became the commune pet?” I asked her.
She tilted her head at me.
“Timothy Leary is a companion, not a pet,” Sundog explained.
“Right. Of course.”
“On the subject of animals, how fares your werewolf hunt?”
I thought for a moment. “It’s progressing, I guess. You know the guy I told you about? Lizzie’s boyfriend? I went to his apartment the other day. He had this painting of Lizzie. It was so…I don’t know, so real. Like I could see her whole self captured in it.”
“True artists know how to cut their subjects open and bleed them onto the canvas.”
“That’s probably not the best phrasing, considering, but I get what you mean,” I said.
I let the fire warm me and imagined I was in Enzo’s apartment again. Art covering the walls. Blue light coming from the lava lamp in the corner. Books stacked on the floor instead of on shelves. A tiny kitchen where it didn’t look like any cooking had ever been done.
“It was interesting,” I told Sundog. “Being in Enzo’s apartment was like being in his mind.”
I stopped.
I thought about what I’d just said.
I had an idea.
? ? ?
“I was thinking,” I said to Enzo.
“Oh?”
I had an hour before I got off work. Enzo sat in his usual booth, drinking coffee and waiting for my shift to end. I pretended to wipe down the table next to his, even though it was already clean and no one was watching me.
“You can tell a lot about someone by where they live.”
“I guess so.”
“All their stuff is there. Like, if something mysterious is going on with the person, you’d probably find evidence in their bedroom or whatever.”
Enzo raised his eyebrows. “Get to the point, kid.”
“Well, don’t you think we should check out Lizzie’s apartment?”
Enzo didn’t reply, and I feared I’d crossed some sort of line. Maybe going to her apartment was too much of a personal invasion. Maybe he didn’t want to take me that deeply into Lizzie’s world.
“It was just a thought,” I said, backtracking. “We don’t need to.”
“No, you’re right. I haven’t been there since…before.”
“Is it too weird?” I asked.
“No, it’s a good idea. The police might have missed something. We can go tonight.”
“We can get in?”
“I have a key,” Enzo said.
That gave me pause. He had a key to her apartment. I wanted to ask if she had a key to his place too, if she could go there anytime she wanted. If she could drive over on a whim, simply because she wanted to be in his home, surrounded by his art, surrounded by the Enzoness of it all.
“Hawthorn?” Enzo asked.
“Sorry. Just thinking. Yeah, let’s go tonight.”
An hour later, we were on our way to the place where Lizzie Lovett lived. I hoped we’d find something telling. Maybe an essay titled “Where I’d Go if I Ever Turned into a Werewolf.”
? ? ?
Lizzie’s apartment was only a couple blocks from the Sunshine Café. The building was old and run-down, not much better looking than Enzo’s.
“Lizzie Lovett lives here?” I asked.
“The diner doesn’t exactly pay well.”
We got out of the car, and Enzo led me to a ground-floor apartment.
“Why didn’t you two move in together?” I asked.
Enzo hesitated. “I don’t think either of us was really at that place yet.”
I wanted to ask a million questions, like what was preventing him from being at that place, but we’d arrived at a door, and Enzo was putting his key in the lock.
“I feel like we’re breaking in,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure the cops wouldn’t be thrilled to find us here.”
But he opened the door anyway and gestured for me to go ahead. I stepped into Lizzie’s apartment. It was dark and silent. Behind me, Enzo fumbled with the light switch.
When the lights came on, I imagined it would be like the curtain rising on the show of Lizzie’s life. I’d cross the threshold and step into Lizzieville. Instead, I found myself looking at an apartment that was bare except for a few pieces of furniture.
“Someone cleared it out,” I said.
“No. This is how she keeps it.”