I didn’t want to approach while she was with her friends, but it didn’t seem like a better opportunity was going to present itself. Pushing aside my fear of the bus leaving without me, I walked up to Lizzie.
“Hi,” I said.
I could immediately tell it was a mistake, because Lizzie gave me a blank look, as if she’d never seen me before.
“Who are you?” asked one of the other cheerleaders.
“I, um…”
Who was I? The girl from the locker room? The girl who snitched on a creepy teacher? The awkward girl with no friends? I couldn’t think of a single way to describe myself without sounding like a complete loser.
“Oh, right, Little Creely,” Lizzie said after a moment. “This is Rush’s sister.”
I guess that was my answer. I was a footnote in the book of Rush.
One of the girls nudged Lizzie. “Are you using Creely’s sister to get close to him?”
Everyone giggled. Except me.
“Yeah, right,” Lizzie said, rolling her eyes. “Like I’d need an excuse.”
“He’s totally in love with you,” said the brunette cheerleader who was always two feet behind Lizzie, like she was being pulled by a leash. The other girls nodded.
“Who isn’t?” asked another girl, and they all laughed. Lizzie didn’t bother denying it.
In the locker room, alone with Lizzie, I’d felt too big for my skin. In the hallway with her friends, I felt tiny. So small that I was barely visible. A speck of dust. Little Creely.
Their conversation, centered entirely on Lizzie, continued around me. I stood there, shrinking more and more every moment.
None of the girls were paying attention to me, and I didn’t know what to do. I had just decided to walk away when Lizzie fixed her eyes on me and asked, “Did you want something?” as if finally remembering I was there.
Yes, I wanted something. I wanted her to like me. I wanted her to be my friend. I wanted her to make me cool.
“Um…”
Everyone stared at me, waiting. I knew my face must be red.
“Well?” Lizzie prompted.
It would have been easier if she had been mean to me. Then I could say she was a terrible person and shrug off the incident. It was her indifference that hurt the most. I didn’t mean anything to her. The locker room conversation had been nothing more than a way to pass the time. She hardly remembered it—or me. I was insignificant.
“It’s nothing,” I said and slunk away.
Behind my back, I heard one of the girls say, “She’s related to Rush?”
And everyone laughed. Even Lizzie.
By the time I got outside, the bus had left. I walked home, burning with shame the entire way. I knew I would never speak to Lizzie again. I vowed not to think about her. For the rest of the year, the rest of the time we were in high school together, I pretended Lizzie Lovett didn’t exist.
But I couldn’t completely block her out. Every once in a while, I’d pass her in the halls, laughing with her friends, carefree and enjoying every second of her charmed life. Then the bitterness would creep in, and I’d wonder why she got to have it so easy.
The thing is, Emily was right. I was jealous of Lizzie, but not of how pretty and popular and perfect she was. I envied Lizzie’s happiness. It seemed unfair that she should have so much of it when other people had so little.
• • •
I still cringed when I remembered how naive I’d been, thinking Lizzie and I had some special connection.
In between my last conversation with Lizzie and her disappearance, three years had passed. After the situation with Mr. Kaminski blew over, I went through high school mostly unscathed. Sure, I never really made new friends, but I had Emily, and that was enough. Lizzie graduated and moved away. She was part of another life, one that only vaguely resembled the one I was living now.
But still, her disappearance was enough to turn back the clock and make me an embarrassed, awkward freshman again. It didn’t matter that it had happened a long time ago. I would always hate Lizzie for the way she made me feel in the hall that day.
Like I was nothing at all.
I looked out the window at my dark neighborhood, willing myself to think of something else, anything else, but I couldn’t get Lizzie off my mind. I wondered where she was. If she was happy. How long it would be before she turned up.
Mostly, I just wanted Lizzie to be found so I could go back to not thinking of her.
There was another part of me though, a very small part, that wanted her to stay missing a while longer. Not that I hated her so much that I wanted her to be lost or in pain, but it was kinda nice to have a mystery in the Mills. Once it was solved, the explanation was sure to be totally boring, like when you read a whodunit and end up wishing you’d stopped before you got to the end. The truth was always a letdown.
Besides, when Lizzie eventually showed up, it was going to be a huge deal. The town would celebrate, and everyone would act like Lizzie’s homecoming was the biggest miracle that had ever happened. When it came down to it, I’d rather listen to speculation about Lizzie’s whereabouts than watch everyone worship her when she returned. I’d already experienced enough Lizzie worship to last a lifetime.
Chapter 4
The New Lizzie
On the morning after the morning Lizzie disappeared, there was a big article about her on the front page of the Griffin Mills Daily Journal. The paper was sitting on the kitchen table when I went downstairs, and I figured I’d hear people talking about it at school all day, which is why I almost ignored it. But my curiosity got the best of me.