“I just think it’s really weird, OK?”
“It’s only a part-time job.”
“You hate people. How are you going to be a waitress?”
“Look. I admit that I went because I was curious,” I said.
“About what?”
“I wanted to see where she worked. Then everyone was really nice, and they offered me a job, and I took it.”
“How convenient,” Emily said.
“It is, actually. I need money, and this way, maybe I can get some information too. About the disappearance.”
“So you think you’re going to solve the mystery, is that it? Don’t you think the police talked to everyone who works at the café?”
“What does it matter if they don’t know the right questions to ask?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
There was a long pause. Then I said, “Listen, Em. What if Lizzie turned into a werewolf?”
“Oh, here we go,” Emily said with a sigh.
She didn’t laugh or act shocked. She didn’t tell me to stop messing around. Like I wasn’t even worthy of a reaction. It made me feel a million miles away from her.
“Look, Hawthorn, I need to get to my piano lesson.”
“No, wait,” I said. “Hear me out.”
Another sigh. “Three minutes.”
And that’s how I shared my theory about Lizzie Lovett being a werewolf out loud for the first time.
• • •
My mom’s vegan chili was surprisingly good, though it would have tasted even better over a hotdog. There was something called textured vegetable protein in the chili, which made me a little squeamish, but if I didn’t pay too much attention to it, I could pretend it was ground beef.
While my mom told my dad and Rush her plans for a winter garden, I thought about my conversation with Emily. She wasn’t a fan of my werewolf theory. In fact, the more I talked, the more annoyed she got. I hadn’t expected her to buy into my reasoning, but I thought maybe we could have one conversation that wasn’t about school assignments, college, and real life. Would it have killed her to play along?
“Earth to Hawthorn,” my dad said, nudging me.
I looked up. “Huh?”
“Your mom asked you to pass the cornbread. What are you thinking about over there?”
“Werewolves.”
Rush rolled his eyes.
“You know,” my dad said, “werewolf legends were very popular in medieval Europe.”
“They were?”
“It was a coping mechanism. People preferred to believe murders were committed by beasts rather than by men. Most accounts of werewolf attacks from that time would be considered serial killings today.”
“So you don’t believe in werewolves?” I asked.
“Well, no. Do you?”
“Maybe. I mean…they could exist.”
“Yeah,” Rush said. “They probably hang out with vampires and mummies.”
“You know, mummies are real, Rush. That’s not a debate,” I shot back.
“Hawthorn,” my mom said in her warning voice.
“Why the sudden interest in werewolves?” my dad asked.
“I was just thinking what if Lizzie Lovett turned into one?”
Rush pushed his chair back from the table. “That’s it. I’m out of here.”
I thought my mom would use her warning voice and tell him to sit back down, but she let him go.
Instead, she turned to me. “That was very insensitive.”
“What?”
“I know you don’t understand why Rush is upset about Lizzie. But that doesn’t mean it’s OK to make jokes.”
“How do you know I was joking?”
“Hawthorn.”
“She could be a werewolf. You don’t know.”
“You have more imagination than is good for you,” my dad said.
“And we love your imagination,” my mom added. “But you need to learn boundaries.”
Boundaries. She meant I had to say and do what was expected of me. Keep any weird thoughts to myself. Not rock the boat. I bet her mom told her the same thing when she was my age. I bet she got some pretty weird looks when she changed her name to Sparrow and painted peace signs on her face.
For someone who called herself a hippie, my mom had become quite the conformist.
• • •
I couldn’t sleep again. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the disgust on Rush’s face when I brought up werewolves. It was the same tone I’d heard in Emily’s voice. Which made me angry. I had to let it make me angry, because otherwise, I would just feel sad.
Couldn’t they have humored me? I wasn’t asking them to launch a werewolf investigation. Why was everyone so desperate to be logical all the time anyway? As if growing up meant you couldn’t even talk about something unless you thought it was real.
Who were Emily and Rush to say what was real or not anyway? It’s not like either of them knew all the secrets of the world.
Legends exist for a reason after all. Those stories are based on some truth.
I thought about what my dad had said, how hundreds of years ago, people believed serial killers were half-beast because it was easier than admitting what horrors men were capable of. But couldn’t it be the other way around? Maybe it was present-day people who couldn’t accept the truth. Maybe a man turning into an animal was too magical for a society that values logic and reason. Maybe those medieval villagers with their werewolf lore were the ones who had it right.