Page 156 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
Ellis frowned slightly. “Do you think he’s going to freak out when we roll up on his doorstep? Or even believe us? What are we going to say?”
Liv waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, he’s too chill. Just tell him the truth.”
Ellis shot me a look.
“I’m serious,” Liv said with a laugh. “Look, tell him the truth, and I can give you something super personal about him—something no one else knows—and he’ll believe you. Plus, he sort of knows you. I mean, he responded to Dove’s message. Jedd is very open-minded. It’s why we’re going to him first. Also, we need him to sort the ashes out with the fireworks.”
“So are we scattering before we find your mom?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light as I thought about just how close I was to scattering the last of Margaret into the Pacific Ocean.
I pushed down the emotion.
Ellis’s hand landed on my knee.
“We are definitely scattering before we see my mom,” Liv said firmly. “I’m not missing that. Plus, Jedd has a boat.”
“How are you feeling?” Ellis asked her. “I mean, really…?”
Liv shrugged and tugged at a sequin. “Well, I’m already dead. I just…. won’t be here. Or maybe I will—who knows. I’m done trying to understand how the afterlife works. I just… I hope that whatever we do, I hope this trip undoes whatever tied me to you.
“I’m not… ” She let out a sigh. “I’m not mad at you anymore, Ellis. Plus, I don’t think you’re going to be able to go back to whatever borefest you were living before all this.”
Ellis rolled her eyes, but a soft smile tugged at her lips as she glanced at me.
“No,” she said, turning back to Liv. “No, I don’t think I’ll be able to either.”
“I don’t thinkthis is safe,” Ellis said about an hour and a half into her leg of the drive. It was around 8:00 p.m. now, and her lips were pressed thin. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to do this in shifts. By the time we get to Santa Monica, it’ll be late, and we’re driving desert roads in a vintage Mustang.”
I had already been thinking the same thing, and relief filled me as she spoke.
“I know you’re desperate to get home, Liv—”
Liv cut her off. “It’s fine. You guys need to rest, I get it. It’s probably better if you get a motel and sleep. It’s okay.”
Ellis looked guilty as she rubbed her face, driving slow and cautious as she navigated the dark road.
“We’re just about to pass through Golden Shores,” she said softly. “We’re still in Arizona, but like, right on the border. We can get some rest and then travel safely to Santa Monica tomorrow, during the day. It—it might be less of a shock showing up on Jedd’s doorstep mid-morning rather than in the middle of the night.”
Liv sighed, but a grin tugged at her lips. “There goes my grand entrance.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to lose the entrance bit,” I told her with a laugh. “You’re still a ghost. Any entrance you make is going to be grand.”
The woman at the front desk of the first motel we pulled into looked like she had stepped out of a 1960s sitcom—wearing a ratty pink nightgown, hair in curlers, a cigarette dangling from her lips, and zero patience as she tossed us a room key, as if our arrival had personally offended her. As soon as Ellis caught thekey, the woman turned back to the tiny TV behind the desk, a wet cough rumbling up her throat, ash flying onto the counter.
Ellis grimaced and dragged me out of the office.
“I’m too amped up to be cooped up in a motel room,” Liv said as we stepped outside. “I’m going to walk around a bit. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
She was gone before we could say anything, fading into the shadows of the dimly lit motel grounds.
“I’m bummed we couldn’t keep going for her,” I said as we walked to our room, the key jingling in Ellis’s hand. “But it just wasn’t safe. We were kidding ourselves to think it was a good idea.”
“I know,” Ellis murmured, pausing in front of a pale blue door with the number ten on it. “I feel bad,” she said, sticking the key in and twisting the lock. The door swung open, and we stepped inside, stale air hitting us both as we entered.
The room wasn’t terrible. I mean, the smell of smoke clung to the walls, and I wasn’t sure if the yellow paint was intentional or just the result of years of nicotine stains. The carpet looked clean, but like every motel before it, there was no way in hell I’d walk on it barefoot.
I eyed the queen bed, the rickety-looking chair in the corner, and the small bathroom that looked about the size of a closet. The scent of some kind of air freshener lingered in the air—a vain attempt to mask the cigarette smell.
Ellis set her bag down on the bed, along with the snacks and water. She let out a small yawn, ran a hand through her auburn hair, then turned to face me with a tired smile.
