Page 49 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
“Oh, shut up!” I hissed, cheeks flaming.
“Excuse me?” a voice behind us made me jolt. We spun around to see a middle-aged woman in activewear, her face fully made up, blonde hair piled stylishly on top of her head.She regarded me with cautious curiosity. “Are you okay, love? You’re... you’re yelling at nothing.”
I blinked, then looked at Dove, whose face had also paled.
“I—I—oh—I—” Words completely failed me.
“Get her to take the photo!” Liv hissed behind us.
“Oh!” I croaked, definitely looking unhinged as I thrust my coffee at Dove and began digging around in my handbag. I finally yanked out my grandmother’s Polaroid camera. “Could—could you take our picture? In front of the sign?” I pointed toward the Route 66 marker with an awkward smile. The woman blinked, clearly confused by the sudden shift in tone.
“Oh... um, okay?”
Dove looked at the camera. “I thought people only used these ironically now,” she muttered with a smirk. “This looks like the real deal. And you legit brought it on a road trip.”
“Liv saw it,” I muttered. “She’s lucky I had film. You have to special order this stuff. It was my grandmother’s camera. She gave it to me.”
“Ah,” Dove said knowingly, as we both ignored the sound of Liv cheering loudly behind us, twirling around a street pole.
“So, how does it work?” the woman asked, clearly beginning to regret having stopped.
I gingerly handed over the camera, not loving the idea of a total stranger handling something so precious, but what choice did I have?
“Point, click, let it whir,” I said, briefly guiding her fingers. “Um... please be careful with it. It’s irreplaceable.”
She grunted.
Dove and I moved into place, standing side by side, each holding our coffee. It was awkward. There was too much space between us to even convince the woman we were friends. Then Liv popped back up—despite not being visible—threw her armsaround our shoulders, and yanked us in closer, her head poking between us.
“Quick!” Liv gasped with delight. “Say something cheesy!”
“Something cheesy,” I muttered dryly.
The shutter clicked.
The picture slid out with a soft whir, and I rushed forward, thanking the woman. I immediately handed my coffee back to Dove before retrieving the photo, tucking it into the darkness of an inner pocket in my bag, then carefully placing the camera back inside.
“Thanks,” we both said as the woman hurried off.
It was probably the last time she’d stop for strangers on the street.
We turned to find Liv hanging upside down from the signpost, as if she were performing on a stage.
Dove sipped her coffee more slowly now, a thoughtful expression tugging at her features. “You ever think about what she’s asking us to do? Like, really think about it?”
“Every second since I left your shop,” I admitted. “Of course, Liv came with me, so it was hard not to.”
We started walking back, knowing Liv would either follow us or pop up randomly when she was ready. My coffee had cooled just enough to be pleasant now, and as we reached the car, I paused for half a beat to admire the Mustang, the way the sun gleamed off the cherry-red paint.
I set my coffee on the roof and began tugging off my sweater. The cropped black tank I wore underneath ended just above the waistband of my jeans, showing only a sliver of pale skin. The front came up high enough to hide the scar from surgery.
“Time to go,” I declared, unlocking the car, grabbing my coffee, and climbing inside. A yawn left my lips. “We’ve taken the picture in front of the sign. Now it’s time to get on the road.”
“Nope!” Liv said, popping into view in the back seat like some deranged jack-in-the-box. “You need to film your intro, Ellis—y’know, for the TikTok. Do you really want the world thinking all you film are sponsored product videos? ‘Crying under a weighted blanket is better than a thousand-thread-count duvet’… come on.”
“What do you mean, film an intro?” I demanded, whipping around to face her.
“Trip kickoff vlog!” Liv announced, clapping her hands. “Go, go, go!”
