In this beautifully written contemporary middle grade debut, an eighth graders study of asexuality in science class leads her to understand her own asexual identity as she embarks on a journey toward self-discovery and self-advocacy. For readers of Alex Gino and Ashley Herring Blake. Theres the part of me that doesnt understand kissing or cuteness or attraction, and then theres the part of me that feels so lonely. How do I make sense of those two parts? Maybe Ill never make sense of them. What do you do when theres a question inside you that feels so big, you dont know how to put words to it? How do you even begin to ask it? Fourteen-year-old Lizzie is experiencing a lot of change: her family had to move after the incident with their neighbor, leaving behind not only her beloved apple tree, but what feels like her childhood along with it. Lizzies brother is too busy for her in his first semester of college and her friends are more interested in dating than dolls. Its hard not to feel left behind, especially as she tries to explain the fact that she still has zero interest in boys, girls, or the baffling behavior known as flirting. But just as Lizzies world feels like its closing in, a class lesson on asexual reproduction in plants piques her curiosity, leading her to look up whether people can be asexual tooand suddenly, her world opens up. Lizzie finally finds an identity, a word for all her messy, unnameable feelings that feels like it fits, although she quickly realizes that a label isnt enough if no one believes its real. Accessible, moving, and compassionate, Just Lizzie effortlessly braids a nuanced individual journey of identity with the bittersweet angst of growing up, growing apart, and learning there are many ways to live and love.