Page 41 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
The text from Ellis letting me know she was on her way had made it all very real.
This was happening.
I glanced down at my phone and opened TikTok, checking my latest video, the one I had thrown together quickly while frantically packing and making sure I didn’t wake Ida earlier than necessary. I clicked into it on instinct.
“If this video found you, it’s because you needed to hear this message.” My voice floated back to me as my hands tapped Margaret’s deck once. “The tables are turning for you. You don’t need to prove yourself to people—to anyone. You are power.”
I navigated to the comments, already seeing multiple people claim the post, and I smiled with relief before going back to check the views. 1,785… not bad, considering I had posted it onlyhalf an hour ago. Pocketing my phone, I sighed, my mind once more circling back to my plan for the morning.
I tapped my foot nervously against the sidewalk and smacked my lips together, anxiety bubbling in my chest over my planned detour. The only reason I was going through with it was because Uncle Bill was so self-absorbed, he’d never know it happened.
How did I know this?
One—he lived in the city during the week, which meant his museum of a house would be empty.
Two—his wife was currently halfway to a pilates retreat in Thailand with her friends (thanks, Facebook).
Three—his “security” cameras were all for show. They weren’t even connected. He bought them forappearances.
I also knew there was a spare key hidden under the third potted plant near the kitchen window, thanks to the time he made me go over and check that he hadn’t left the oven on. I knew exactly where the urn was. I’d be in and out. No questions asked.
The rumble of an engine down the otherwise quiet street pulled me from my thoughts, and I snapped my head up my, heart skipping as a cherry-red Mustang rolled through the foggy haze like something out of a dream.
The car gleamed beneath the early light of the morning sun, the top still up. Through the misted windshield, I could just make out Ellis behind the wheel. Her red hair was down, draped over one shoulder in soft waves, and she wore a deep green V-neck sweater, the sleeves pushed to her elbows like she was already hot and flustered.
“Road trip, bitches!” Liv whooped as the car pulled up beside me, hanging out the back window in her clubbing clothes, looking very much like she’d been out all night.
I blinked at her in surprise, lips twitching despite the volume of her voice at this hour.
“I can see you’re full of life,” I teased, ignoring her disgruntled look as I opened the front passenger door and ducked my head inside to see Ellis, alarmed to find she was, in fact, wearing jeans.
“Morning,” I said, stuffing my duffel into the footwell and climbing in. The cold leather pressed through my leggings and sweater.
“Morning,” she grumbled, yawning softly. “Coffee?”
“Not yet,” I told her firmly.
“Hmph.” She grunted, then eyed my bag. “You can put it in the trunk, you know. If you want more room.”
“No, it’s fine,” I assured her. I needed quick access to that bag... for the detour. Something floral filled my senses, Ellis’s shampoo, maybe? The car was spotless, not that I was surprised, given who its owner was.
“Are we going or what?” Liv demanded, suddenly leaning forward between the seats.
“We need to make a quick detour,” I announced lightly, trying to keep my voice casual.
Ellis’s eyes narrowed, and Liv cocked her head.
“Detour?” Ellis asked, her voice flat.
“Yes,” I said, too quickly. “It’s on the way, somewhat. It won’t take long.”
Were my cheeks hot?
“Right... You want to tell me what kind of detour we’re taking?” she asked, her tone completely unconvinced.
“It’s personal,” I said bluntly, meeting her gaze. “Family stuff.”
Ellis held my stare, like she could see right through the bullshit, then tapped her fingers once against the steering wheel and gave a tight nod. “Fine. But if this in any way turns into something sketchy, I’m turning the car around.”
