Page 80 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
My heart sank, and it felt like my blood was roaring in my ears.
This was going badly.
Her words sat heavily between us, and I watched as she blinked fast, looking around the room as if she could hold back the flood of words I knew rested on her lips.
Tourists continued to mill around us, and Liv persevered in her quest to sit in every single car, oblivious to the conversation we were having.
“She’s already said it before, and I agree with her.I don’t deserve her heart,” Ellis said, her voice a little rougher now. “She’s right, too. I don’t. I’m not a remarkable human being. I haven’t done anythingheroicorworthwhile. All I’ve done my entire life is fight not to die, and for what? For some unfathomable reason, someone else had to die for me to be here. Someone who clearly lived a big life. A lifeIstole. And now I’m supposed to get to know her? Act like we’re all chill besties? Like this is some feel-good movie where we all learn valuable lessons, where we come out of this trip as bigger, better versions of ourselves?”
“Ellis—” I began, but she kept going, hot and sharp.
“This isn’t some fun movie, Dove,” she said, her eyes flashing. “We’re literally on the road, driving a ghost across state lines to find closure with her mother. Maybe it sounds likean interesting plot, or, I don’t know, something out ofGhost Whisperer, but you’re not Jennifer Love Hewitt, and I’m not herewillingly.”
Her last few words echoed louder than she probably meant, and a few heads turned. She ducked her head. I took a breath, trying not to let my own frustration rise with hers. The last thing I wanted was for her attitude to bleed into mine. It was obvious she was spiraling, and had been, long before she ever stepped into Margaret’s shop that day.
And as if Margaret were standing right beside me, I heard her voice, clear as day.
“When someone is cracked wide open, Dovey, we don’t run for the Band-Aids or look for ways to put them back together. Sometimes, you have to let them sit in the wreckage of their own mind. Sometimes, you just have to let people bleed out so they can heal themselves. We’re not here to heal, kiddo. We’re here to guide.”
I swallowed.
Ellis shook her head, her expression aghast, like she knew she’d revealed too much of the inner workings of her mind and was now scrambling to shove those secrets back inside. To return to the carefully curated version of herself she showed the world.
But it was too late.
I’d seen some of the ugly.
And I knew there was more.
I wanted to see it.
I wanted to help her.
“I’m going to the car,” she said suddenly, pulling her sunglasses over her eyes. “Come whenever you guys are ready.”
I watched as she turned on her heel and practically marched out of the museum, head held high with that air of aloofness I knew was all bullshit bravado.
“She’s more messed up than I am.”
Liv’s voice appeared beside me, and I jumped slightly, clutching my chest.
“Jesus, Liv.”
She shrugged and looked after Ellis. “She is messed up, though. She doesn’t know how to carry it, you know, the guilt. She thinks my death was manifested. She’s had that sitting on her chest since she woke up with my heart inside her. Now she holds the guilt like a shield.”
“Well,” I said lightly, my nerves a little frayed, “maybe if you went a little easier on her—”
“No way,” Liv cut in sharply. “No. People have been going easy on her her whole life. Now she’s a sulking, ungrateful idiot who doesn’t need coddling, she needs a kick up the ass. This trip isn’t just for me, Dove. Wake up. We need to show Ellis there’s more to life, and she needs to live it. She needs to understand that we all have an expiration date. So no, I won’t goeasyon her.”
Liv stormed off before I could say anything, and I rubbed my face, trailing after her.
The silencein the car as we drove to Red Oak II had already grown louder than Liv’s personality, and we were only twenty minutes into the drive. G Flip was bashing the drums in the background. Ellis had set the volume, and I wasn’t about to alter it, but if we were going to sit in silence, couldn’t she at least make it a little louder?
I decided then, as Ellis leaned her head into her hand, driving one-handed with a set look on her face, that she might not want to know Liv, and that was her choice.
But it wasn’tmine.
I was doing myself a disservice by hauling Liv’s ghostly ass across state lines and knowing absolutely nothing about her.
