Page 119 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
The air caught in my throat.
She looked back at our work as I tried not to reel from her casual words, as if what she’d said wasn’t casually devastating and beautiful all at once.
“How charming,” I muttered. “Turning vandalism into romance.”
She let out a low laugh and tapped her can against her leg. “Can’t help myself. I’m a poet.”
There was a lightness in my chest as I peered back at Dove, trying to fathom how I’d gone from being roped into a reading in her shop—staring down her cool remarks and judgey eyes—to whatever we were becoming. How had we gone from twopanicked girls in a back room to two girls saying nothing and everything at the same time?
“Um, hello?” Liv’s voice rang out, and we both jumped, parting as we turned to face her.
I missed Dove’s arm almost immediately.
“Do I not get to be immortalized as well?” Liv demanded, hands on her hips.
Dove smirked and shook the can in her hand. “Where do you want it, your highness?”
DOVE
Tip #18: If the afterlife confuses you, live like the prequel matters.
As we rolled into Adrian, our camping supplies safely stowed in the trunk, thanks to Ellis’s amazing packing skills and Liv’s barely helpful words of encouragement, I was hungry and feeling a little worn out. The late night in Oklahoma was catching up to me, but maybe it was also because, in the back of my mind, I knew we’d officially hit the halfway point of this trip.
I had driven halfway across the country with a girl who had started out as a stranger and was now… something else entirely. And a ghost, with unfinished business, who made a habit of giving us half a story and then changing the subject, as if she didn’t want to face the truth.
What would she do when we got to L.A. and her life was back in front of her?
She had been removed from it ever since she died, and from what I’d gathered, strapped to Ellis from the moment her heart had been placed in Ellis’s chest.
Was she in some form of denial?
Ellis had told me to keep driving until we reached the halfway point sign. Apparently, the campground and the local diner were right across from each other, so the plan was to take our photo at the midpoint sign, grab some lunch, and then go secure a camping spot for the night.
I did as instructed. She had the binder, after all.
The sun was sitting high in a sky that looked washed out, and the world around us felt bare and overexposed. I frowned a little, not quite sure what I had expected, really. The town was small and quiet. I clocked a gas station, the diner, and a couple of other buildings, but it was mostly empty.
The campground hadn’t been much to look at either, when we’d driven by, but I decided it didn’t matter. It was one night under the stars to fulfill Liv’s unfinished wish, and I knew Ellis was quietly excited about tonight, too.
As easygoing as I was—and despite a few years in Girl Scouts—I wasn’t much of a camper. I liked creature comforts like a soft bed, good food, and a hot shower.
But I wasn’t about to let it show just how precious I could be.
“We made it,” Ellis murmured as we stepped out of the car in the diner lot. I followed her gaze to the white strip painted across the asphalt, leading to a white sign.
A big, boldWelcomestretched across it, followed by a Route 66 emblem, letting us know we were in Adrian, Texas—at the midpoint.
“Los Angeles, 1,139 miles,” I read aloud as we started walking, crossing the quiet road. “Chicago, 1,139 miles.”
Ellis let out a low whistle and shook her head. “This is the farthest I’ve ever been from home. Without my parents.”
She crossed her arms as we stopped in front of the sign, a breeze teasing red strands of hair into her face. Liv stood besideher, staring at the sign with an unreadable expression, but I noticed a slight twitch in her jaw.
I looked back at the sign.
“I’m not sure what I expected at the halfway point,” I murmured, twirling a loose strand of hair. “I think I watch too many movies, you know? Like, if this were a movie, there’d be some deeply profound narration or dialogue between the travelers, with some subtle but emotionally evocative music… but I don’t know. The reality of it all is just… quieter.”
“I get it,” Ellis said softly, adjusting her sunglasses. “Part of me also can’t believe I’m actually standing here. Halfway to L.A. with a ghost and someone I didn’t even know a week ago.”
