Page 26 of Vera Wong's Guide to Snooping (on a Dead Man)

Millie’s instincts take over and before she knows it, she’s practically assaulted Oliver in her haste to grab the phone from his hands. By the time she snatches the phone away from him, her breathing is shallow, and she’s sure she must’ve scared him away.

Instead, Oliver says, “Sorry. I should’ve—I didn’t mean to pry. I promise I didn’t see anything.”

“No!” she cries. It kills her to think that he’s blaming himself for her weirdness. “It’s just.” Just what? It is true that she reacted so fast because she didn’t want him to see what’s on her phone. “Sorry, I just get weird about my phone. It’s not you.”

“Anyway, I hope it’s not broken.”

She checks it. There is a crack on one corner of the screen, but it seems to be working okay. “It’s fine.” She stuffs it back into her pocket.

They wait in silence for a few seconds, then Oliver says, “Not to be weird, and feel free to say no, but can I give you my number?”

She gapes at him.

“Uh. I didn’t wanna ask for your number in case you didn’t feel safe giving it to me,” he says. “Is that weird? I don’t really know how to do these things.”

“No, that’s not weird at all. It’s incredibly thoughtful, actually.” She doesn’t deserve thoughtful. She shouldn’t take his number. She shouldn’t take his anything. She should disappear and hope Vera and everybody else forgets about her. But Millie finds herself taking her phone out once more and opening her address book. She taps on New Contact and says, “Yes, I would love your number.” She didn’t think she could possibly hate herself more than she already does, and yet here she is, reaching new lows. The smile of relief that Oliver gives her nearly tips her over the edge, and when the bus arrives a minute later, Millie jumps on quickly. She waves bye at Oliver, then spends the ride back staring at his number, trying to make herself delete it. Nothing good can come out of this.

But instead of deleting it, Millie does something else. Something completely ridiculous, something so unhinged that she doesn’t dare to stop in case she thinks better of it. The bus is about to pass through a stop in front of a Target when she shouts, “Stop!” She clambers out, hurries into Target, and purchases the first prepaid phone she finds. It costs $19.99, plus tax, and Millie tears open the package as soon as she’s finished paying. She saves Oliver’s number in her new phone, then stuffs it deep into her handbag, covering it with her makeup bag and cardigan.

When she gets back and Mother grabs her arm and practically drags her to their place to interrogate her, Millie thinks about thesecret phone. Just for a second. Then she banishes all thoughts of it and forces herself to focus.

“Why’re you spending so much time at a tea shop in Chinatown?” Mother says.

Millie doesn’t ask Mother how she knew about Vera’s tea shop. Mother and Father are all-knowing. They are like gods. Sometimes, she feels like they know things before they happen.

Still, Millie tries lying anyway. “I just stopped by for some tea,” she says meekly. Mother and Father like it when she’s meek. Actually, most people like it when she’s meek. From the corner of her eye, she spots Mina peeping out from her doorway, and Millie gives a shake of her head. Mina disappears, though no doubt her little sister is listening. Days like these, Millie misses her big sister Yara so much. Millie has never quite known how to be a big sister to anybody. She had hoped that she’d be the last, that Mother and Father would stop having kids, but of course they haven’t. Mother and Father love being parents. She wonders, for the millionth time: What would Yara do? But Yara wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.

“You’re wasting time. Time you should be spending on your job,” Father growls.

“This old woman who owns the shop,” Mother says, “she rich?”

Millie shakes her head quickly. Too quickly?

“What about the guy who walked you out?” Father says.

Millie knows better than to ask how Father knows about Oliver.

“He’s nobody.” His number burns a hole in her pocket.

“They all are,” Mother says. “Until they aren’t. He seems nice. Nice is good.”

“Nice is easy,” Father says.

“And we like easy, don’t we, Millie?”

Millie looks down at the floor and gives a small nod. She should’ve known better than to go to Vera’s tonight. She knows she’s bad news. They don’t deserve to be around someone like her. And she wishes that when her phone fell, it had smashed beyond repair so Oliver couldn’t have given her his number. So many wishes. It’s too bad none of them would do her any good now.

Ten

VERA

Vera can’t remember the last time she’s had so much fun. Then she feels guilty for thinking that, because she literally has weekly dinners with her newfound family and they are nothing but fun, but the thing is, there’s just nothing quite like the heartwarming joy of gathering a bunch of new people who are obviously slightly terrified and brazenly accusing them of murder. And also, to her credit, Vera has refrained from outrightly accusing anyone of murder this time around. See? Old dogs can learn new tricks.

Though of course she is secretly assessing everyone in her house and measuring them up against the Vera Wong Formula for Murderers.

Does the person reek of guilt?

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