The Entirely Fabricated Story of Lizzie Nickerson

Chapter 65

Frazier Stoudemire wheeled his unmarked sedan around the corner and down the street where the old three-story red brick structure stood, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lizzie or, if he got lucky, maybe exchange 'hellos.' It had been almost a year since the fish bowl incident and during that time, he'd felt the urge on multiple occasions to ring Sonya Finch's buzzer and stop in for a visit but it would be in everyone's best interest if he kept his distance.

His ex-partner, Mitch Tarpick had been incessantly vocal about Lizzie Nickerson's involvement in Tyson Russko's demise, and though the death was ruled accidental and the case closed, Frazier couldn't risk further scrutiny. He often thought about Lizzie and longed for the good old days when he'd watch her help solve complex cases right before his eyes.

Because there have been several disclaimers throughout the novel stating that this is not a police story, it would be a great disservice to readers to close Lizzie's story with a criminal investigation. That's it for police work, and that's a promise.

Mitch Tarpick (no longer affiliated with the Cincinnati Police Department.) didn't make it to Kansas. He staked his notch on the Heartland's corn belt in Mercer County, Ohio. The grand total of Tarpick's corn farming knowledge would fit in a demitasse spoon (with room to spare) and so his failed corn crop served as a dreary backdrop to his ceramics and pottery stand on State Road 119, a curious though seldom visited blink-and-you-missed-it roadside attraction.

Tarpick's son, the enigmatic Montego Belmont, had his own run of bad luck. (self-inflicted) His enthusiasm was insufficient to disguise his awful musicianship and, as a result, he was cast out of Black Drongo. No longer living the exciting rock star lifestyle, Indigo's passion for her boyfriend diminished.

To rekindle their fading romance, Montego suggested a trip to Bisbee, Arizona for the Hemperoo Festival where Indigo could show off her organic soap product line and he could show off his girl. A flock of social media-savvy marketers were quick to spot the potential in the photogenic Indigo Finch as a YouTube/Instagram influencer. In a short time, she went from Micro-Influencer to Mega-Influencer, attracting a million followers including rock stars and celebrities of all stripes. She was living the dream, making the scene with the beautiful people. She had her pick of multiple famous men and engaged in couch-hopping activities with an impressive assortment. Montego Belmont became little more than a footnote in the story of Indigo's meteoric rise as the Queen of Hemp Soap Products.

It had been a gradual process, but Sonya managed to have Lizzie seen by a doctor. (Thanks to hemp soap, Lizzie had no use for a dermatologist.) Aside from being underweight and having slightly elevated blood pressure and heart rate (anxiety-related), Lizzie was diagnosed as a physically healthy teen. She was referred to a specialist/therapist who helped Lizzie with some of her emotional issues, chief among these, learning to control her anger. She found the most helpful tool was the Stop/Think technique. It involved not instantly reacting to a trigger and not saying the first thing that came to mind when triggered, something Lizzie had been doing since she could first form words. When habits were this deeply ingrained, it was hard to break them. The anger management therapy was a process that required patience and a lot of practice but Lizzie was determined to engineer a better version of herself. 

As full-time students at the Cincinnati Academy of Science and Technology, Lizzie and Scooter enjoyed each other's company daily. They became more than just good friends and often sneaked into the janitor's supply closet (just after lunch) for ten-minute sessions of kissing and groping. During these passionate rendezvous, Lizzie felt her electricity surge and her brain running out of control but in a good way. With Scooter, she overcame many of her sensory sensitivities and welcomed human contact (Scooter's, no one else's).

Once Lizzie became accustomed to the new bus route, unfamiliar classrooms, college-level teachers, the lab work, and the new routines, she embraced the changes and felt far less anxious. Scooter had a lot to do with that.

At the dinner table, Sonya routinely asked Lizzie about her day at school. Because the students at the academy were all nerds (not a judgment, only a descriptor), there were no mean girls like Willow, Emma, and Riley to torture Lizzie. No one called her 'lizard' or worse. The school was loaded with introverts which, to Lizzie's mind, made it even better. As she put it, "No one talks unless they're forced to."

"Doesn't that make it harder to make friends?" Sonya asked.

"Oh, geez. I have Scooter and there are a few other kids who could be friends. That's enough friends for right now."

"So, did anything new happen at school today?"

"Did you know that when you cut yourself, blood isn't the only thing that comes out? Electricity leaks out, too."

Sonya wrinkled her eyebrows. "Do we have to talk about blood at the dinner table?"

"It's just a tiny, tiny bit of electrical current but it's there. A detectable electrical field. Don't you think that's amazing?"

"Yes, amazing." She didn't sound amazed. Sonya would have been happier discussing more mundane topics like the weather, interesting dog breeds, or the best Popsicle flavor.

"It makes sense," said Lizzie. "Every living organism generates an electrical field. We haven't been able to measure it accurately until recently but it's proven. Oh, geez, even plants generate electrical fields. Any living thing."

As Lizzie chattered on, Sonya turned her eyes to a bowl of green beans on the table and thought about the electric fields they had once generated and couldn't help but feel a little responsible for their lack of current. She wasn't the green bean murderer, but she was an enabler.

"Well, you seem noticeably happier since you've been enrolled at the academy," said Sonya. "That probably has something to do with Scooter, don't you think?"

"Yes, he makes me happy. And I really like the work I'm doing. It confirms what I've been feeling since I was a little kid. Oh, geez, I knew I was electric and I didn't think I was the only one. It makes sense and the data proves it." She stabbed a forkful of green beans and shoveled them in. She chewed for a moment or two and then said, "I like the way this is turning out."

"Turning out?"

"My autism." She went after more beans. "I get obsessive like a lot of people on the spectrum. We really get into things. Obsessively. For a long time, it seemed like that was something that was wrong with me but it turns out maybe it's not. Oh, geez, I mean mostly it's not. Sometimes it still is sort of a problem. Scooter doesn't say it but I know he's thinking it sometimes. Like he's thinking, 'Lizzie, you're talking too much.' But I'm working on it. And I really like the good part about it. And I think he does, too." She glanced up at her aunt. "I'm talking too much, right?"

Sonya smiled. "I'm used to it."