The Entirely Fabricated Story of Lizzie Nickerson

Chapter 49

Early the next morning, Sonya busied herself in the kitchen with breakfast. She hoped the smell of fresh coffee would awaken her guests and when it didn't, she rattled the skillets as she prepared to make pancakes. 

When Indigo and Montego shuffled into the kitchen rubbing their sleepy eyes, Sonya was relieved they weren't naked. Their sour odor followed them into the room, leaving Sonya to wonder how long it had been since they'd put their hemp soap to use.

"What time is it?" Indigo asked, sweeping the hair from her face.

Sonya rubbed her nose. "Eight twelve." 

"For rock stars, that's the middle of the night."

"Rock stars?" Lizzie said, entering the kitchen.

"Yeah, Montego and Black Drongo. Artists need their sleep to perform at their best."

"We're a brotherhood of musicians." Montego smacked his lips. "Not down with the whole fame thing. It's not our bag, man. Just trying to spread the positivity, you know, every little thing is gonna be all right." A long yawn tumbled from his gaping mouth.

"Right on, right on." She kissed him on the cheek. "Why don't you go back to bed, babe?"

"Not on the couch," Sonya said, stirring two eggs into the batter. "I'm working in there today."

"Bummer."

"Stay out of my room," said Lizzie, shouldering her backpack.

"You need to think of others, man," said Indigo. "Not just yourself."

Sonya nearly broke a socket rolling her eyes.

"Oh, geez," said Lizzie. "I'm thinking of Buddy. He's easily upset."

"Buddy?" Indigo said through a long yawn.

"Your cereal's on the table and your apple slices are in the fridge," said Sonya. "I know you don't have time to stick around for pancakes."

"Why you splittin', kitten?" Indigo asked.

"School." Lizzie opened the refrigerator. "My bus comes at eight twenty-five." She shoved an apple slice into her mouth like an act of defiance.

"How about a kiss, sunshine?" Indigo started to get out of her chair. "Or maybe just a hug?" Her beautiful, full smile felt threatening.

"I'm gonna be late for school." Lizzie scooted out the door, clutching the baggie of apple slices.

"Your cereal," Sonya called after her.

"I'll eat it later," Lizzie said descending the first flight of stairs. She stopped and then slid another apple slice out of her baggie and into her mouth while glancing at the door to Frederick Gibbs' apartment. She'd lived a significant portion of her life in that apartment not realizing at the time how abruptly it would come to an end.

By the time she was through the front door and out onto the sidewalk where the sun was taking the chill out of the morning, her anxiety was winding down. She was thankful that she had school to take her mind off of her mother.

Up ahead at the bus stop, two gangly acne-faced classmates, Carson and Simon kept their distance from a trio of girls.

Willow, Riley, and Emma were locked in on their phones with smug smiles on their faces that said, it's so awesome being us. Adorned with as much makeup as school policy would allow, they were practically clones with their blonde hair, ear studs, and faded ripped jeans. Riley favored tight tops since she got her boobs before anyone else and enjoyed showing them off.

To the girls, Lizzie and the two guys were practically invisible and that's how Lizzie preferred it.

"Hey, Lizzie," said Simon, fidgeting like a sparrow.

"Hi," she said, slipping the heavy backpack from her shoulder.

He smiled at her knowing better than to expect one in return.

Carson said nothing. He was uncomfortable talking to girls, especially girls like Lizzie.

Lizzie didn't pose like the trio of teenage vixens, hips cocked and knees slightly bent. She stood straight up and down as though she were built from Legos.

Simon said, "Did you finish your Modern Lit report?"

"Oh, geez. My mother and her new boyfriend stayed over so I couldn't concentrate on my report. I hope they go home right after the Fringe Festival so I can finish."

"Is your mom a hippie?"

"She prefers the term counterculture. They both just showed up at our door begging for a place to crash for a few nights. Who travels halfway across the country without a place to stay? That doesn't even make sense. Oh, geez. It totally changes everything. I hope they go back to Colorado soon. I don't like them being here. How will I study?"

"That's fucked up."

"You shouldn't curse, Simon. Cursing is a sign of a weak mind and an even weaker character."

"Oh, geez." Riley mocked Lizzie without raising her eyes from her phone. The girls laughed. Simon blushed. 

Lizzie turned and said matter-of-factly, "You wear that same top every Friday."

Willow and Emma looked up from their phones.

Riley growled. "I do not wear this top every Friday!"

Lizzie nodded. "Three weeks ago you wore it on Thursday, but almost every other week you wear it on Friday."

"What kind of freak memorizes my clothes?"

"I don't memorize. I just notice."

"Well, stop it!"

"I don't know why you're mad," said Lizzie. "It's not an insult, just an observation."

"You're wrong, Lizard," Riley shouted.

Willow whispered, "I'm pretty sure you did wear it last Friday."

"Yeah, you did," said Emma.

Across the street, a man watched the bus stop through the blur of traffic. He wasn't focused on the pimply boys, or even on Riley's nubile figure. The man with the tattooed face and narrow eyes stared intently at Lizzie, the tip of his pink tongue poking in and out at the corner of his twitchy lips.