The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett

I wanted Enzo to see me how he saw Lizzie. I wanted him to like me because I was different from Lizzie. I wanted Lizzie to be alive, but I also wanted her to stay away forever. I wanted my life to be interesting and complicated.

I could have sat at my desk thinking all night, but there was a knock on my door.

“Are you done yet? Mom wants more pictures before you go.”

“Just a second,” I shouted back at my brother.

I turned to the mirror and gazed at my reflection. I was a different person. Just for one night. That’s what I had been telling myself. Which meant I should try to shut off my mind. I needed to stop spurting out worries and questions. I needed to just be.

That was my goal on the night of the homecoming dance. For once, I was going to stop worrying about my motivations and just do what felt right.

? ? ?

There were so many pictures. Too many. My mom made me pose with my brother and my dad. Then the hippies saw what we were doing and wandered over, and Mom had me take a few photos with them. Sundog told me I looked beautiful and gave me some sort of blessing that was probably really nice but sounded like gibberish to me. The whole thing was super overwhelming, but I was trying not to be the kind of girl who got overwhelmed.

“I’ll want pictures of you and Enzo when he gets here,” my mom said after snapping a photo of me standing in front of the house.

“Mom, no. It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

“You can’t take pictures with your friends?”

“How’s he getting here anyway?” Rush asked. “I thought he was too artistic to drive.”

There it was. I knew my brother couldn’t make it through the entire evening without taking a jab at Enzo.

“He’s taking the bus here. Then I’ll drive us to the dance.”

“Chivalrous,” Rush said. He said it dryly, obviously as an insult. But I actually thought it was kind of a nice gesture. Usually, I picked Enzo up. He couldn’t drive me to the dance, but he was meeting me at my house. He was doing his best.

“Be nice to your sister,” my dad said, but he frowned a little, and I knew he was secretly on Rush’s side.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I said. “This isn’t a date. We’re just going to the dance.”

No one believed me though, and I sort of didn’t mind.

“Can you guys, like, give me some space? I swear I’ll let you know when Enzo’s here.”

I made my way over to the porch swing to wait for Enzo. My mom wanted to sit with me, but my dad dragged her inside, which I appreciated. Having my family around while I was getting ready was one thing, but when Enzo arrived, I wanted the moment all to myself.

? ? ?

I waited a long time. Then I waited some more.

I tried to look straight ahead or down at my feet or anywhere that could distract me. The goal was not to look down the street in the direction of the closest bus stop, the direction that Enzo would be coming from. I didn’t want him to find me like that, hunched over on the front porch, eagerly waiting for his slouchy, shuffling arrival at my house.

So instead, I attempted to focus on other things, because it wasn’t so much like I was waiting for him that way. I was just looking at where the porch railing was scratched or how the poppies in the flowerbed were starting to die or the way our mailbox tilted very slightly to the left. I told myself to concentrate on those details, and eventually, I would glance casually up the street only to find Enzo, standing on the edge of the lawn, a sheepish look on his face and some story about how the bus had broken down or the homeless man who always rides in the back row pulled out a machete and held everyone hostage or something. Anything.

But every time I glanced up, I was still alone, and eventually, I stopped pretending and just watched the road. What did it matter if Enzo saw me sitting patiently, desperately waiting for him to arrive?

More time passed, and I became positive that looking for Enzo really didn’t matter. I could watch the road or run out into the middle of it if I wanted. I could kneel down on the front lawn and scream at the sky. I could cry and rage and do whatever I wanted without worrying about Enzo finding me that way, because Enzo was not going to show up.

It was getting dark when my mom opened the door and poked her head out.

“Everything OK?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you should give him a call?”

“Maybe later.”

Chelsea Sedoti's books