Page 20 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
I braced myself for soft looks and concern, maybe some gentle prodding.
Instead, she gave me a knowing look. “Dr. Mason’s making you stop researching death again, isn’t she?”
I huffed and shook my head. “That and… she’s making me research life. Among other things.”
Mom’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly. “Sounds… healthy.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too excited,” I muttered with a sigh.
“Oh, I’m not,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Her voice was an octave higher than usual.
She was definitely excited.
“What are we researching, then?”
I should have lied. I could have—I could’ve said something vague, like new hobbies or random career paths I’d never actually pursue.
Instead, I made the classic mistake every young woman knowsnotto make with her mother.
I told the truth.
“Dating.”
Mom visibly perked up.
My stomach dropped. “No. Don’t. Whatever it is you’re thinking, stop.”
“Oh, Ellis!” Mom clasped her hands together and looked as if she were physically holding in a squeal. “Are you serious?”
“It’s homework,” I said quickly. “Not like an actual interest. Dr. Mason wants me to socialize.”
Mom’s eyes stayed lit as she perched on the edge of my bed. “What app are you using? Aunt Junie went onLove4Lyfe.com.”
I wrinkled my nose at the name, and she laughed and nodded.
“Come on,” she urged.
I groaned and turned back to my laptop, opening it. “This is so dumb.”
“Femme?” Mom grinned, leaning in with sparkling eyes, clearly amused. “I like that. It sounds classy.”
God, this was a mistake.
She scanned my barely filled-out profile, her smile dimming into a small frown. “What are you going to write for your ‘About Me’?”
I shrugged lamely and resumed tapping my finger on the desk as I stared at the blinking cursor. “I don’t know. How do I sum myself up in 100 characters? How about:Ellis, 21. Lover of reading, iced coffee, and staring at my ceiling while contemplating my own mortality.”
“Well,” Mom said lightly, “you had me in the first half. We all contemplate our mortality, Ellis. We just don’t admit it publicly. You should hear my head at three in the morning when I can’t sleep.”
“Hmm,” I murmured, pretending to consider it. “Ellis, 21. I make YouTube videos about surviving heart failure and they pay me for it. Currently researching what normal people do for fun. Open to suggestions.”
Mom snorted a laugh and shook her head. “You kill me. Listen, just put:Ellis, 21. Caffeine fan, bad reality TVenthusiast. Swipe if you love someone who can organize their life into a spreadsheet.”
“Mom!”
Despite the dig, we both laughed, because, it was true. My life was so tightly organized that nothing was going to throw me. Not anymore.
“The first bit, though,” Mom said, nudging me. “Use that. Just don’t overthink it.”
