Page 142 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
Leon offered to get a picture of us together, so we found ourselves pressed shoulder to shoulder in the basket, our arms brushing as she angled her head slightly toward mine. I leaned in too, my mind racing at the feel of her palm against the small of my back—the way her thumb gently brushed as we smiled for the camera.
When we parted, Dove shot me a wide smile before heading over to where Liv still hung. I caught my breath and turned back to the view, my eyes drifting over the expanse of the world below.
Everything just looked so small. The world. Me. The people I knew. The problems I thought were insurmountable. From way up here, it all felt so insignificant.
At the end of the day, we were just on a floating rock, hurtling through space, tied to a sun that would one day burn out. And somehow, that thought filled me with a strange lightness. A flashing reminder that none of this mattered—the fear of dying, the fear of hurting people, the grief. None of it could hold permanent power unless I let it.
I blinked, the wind cool against my skin at the thought.
My mind drifted to my brother, the tension between us that had lingered for years now. Years lost to silence andmisunderstanding. Moments we’d never get back because of fear. At least, fear for me. I had told myself it was all too far gone and that trying to fix things would only make it worse.
But that was just me giving myself a scapegoat. An easy way out of something I knew would make me uncomfortable.
Hiding behind the idea that it was all too late had stopped me from having to take any accountability and to do something about it. To take a risk and maybe get it wrong. To try anyway.
But the trying was what it was all about. Trying because we’re still here to try. Because we’re still breathing. Because we can.
There was this small moment for me then, as the world stretched out below—lifting the veil off my bullshit—where it felt like anything was possible. I wasn’t locked into the life I was currently living. I didn’t have to be. And sure, maybe one day I would die—earlier than most people. But we all die.
Right now, though, I was here. Alive. And anything was possible.
I looked over at Dove, who was staring out as well, and at Liv, who had pulled herself upright, now sitting beside Dove. But she wasn’t looking at the sky.
She was looking at me.
And as our eyes met, she gave me an almost imperceptible nod—a firm look of determination in her eyes. My heart stuttered as she nodded again, like she was responding to a silent conversation in her mind. Then, gripping the edge of the basket, she turned her gaze back to the sky.
And as the world drifted below us, the sky wrapped around us, and my eyes landed on Dove, the feeling of possibility filled my chest with such velocity I almost stumbled from the overwhelming sensation of it.
I felt like I could do anything.
DOVE
Tip #22: The Moon card reminds you that sometimes confusion is the clarity.
The gentle hum of the tires on the tired New Mexico asphalt lulled beneath me, steady and rhythmic as we drove toward Arizona, leaving the delights of Albuquerque behind in nothing more than gray road and brown desert. I was comfortably slouched in the passenger seat, arms folded and eyes closed beneath my sunglasses, letting the warmth of the early afternoon sun soak into my skin.
Ellis drove quietly—she’d been quiet since the balloon ride, in that pensive way she usually resided in. Something lo-fi played softly through the Mustang speakers, one of her picks, and it was doing a good job of relaxing me further into the sleep that beckoned.
I knew Liv was draped across the backseat behind us, much like a cat curling up in a patch of sunlight. She hummed along to the song Ellis had put on off-key but committed.
I licked my dry lips and yawned softly. I was definitely slipping into the realm of dozing. Maybe it was the suddenaltitude shifts today—the balloon had been so out of pocket, and honestly, one of the best experiences of my life.
I’d have to thank Ellis’s granddad if I ever got to meet him.
As my eyes grew heavier and drool began to collect at the corner of my mouth, I was just about to let sleep take me when…
The car began to slow. A subtle shift in motion tugged me back to consciousness. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Ellis pulled us off the road. I lifted my head and peered over my sunglasses at her.
“Ellis?” I asked, my voice thick with the promise of sleep. “You okay?”
She was staring down at the steering wheel, her hair shielding her face—and then she turned and grinned.Grinned. Her eyes glinted like glass in the sun pouring through the windshield, and the expression caught me so off guard I sat up straight. Liv’s humming cut off as she, too, sat upright.
Ellis blinked at us—wide-eyed, bright.
“It’s time,” she said suddenly, putting the car fully into park and unbuckling her seatbelt.
“For what?”
