Page 21 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
I let out a heavy breath and typed in the bio, then selected three pictures I actually liked. A decent selfie. Me smiling, good lighting; one of me at the beach last summer, hair messy from the wind, holding a pink soft-serve ice cream; and a candid shot Mom had taken on my birthday, smiling over the candles.
My nose wrinkled again.
I felt like I was trying to sell something that didn’t exist.
The girl in those pictures looked carefree, happy.
She looked normal.
She certainly didn’t run her life with an iron rod.
I hit save, and Mom squeaked, clapping her hands.
Your profile is live! Let the connections begin!
“This is such a bad idea,” I muttered grimly, shaking my head.
“Oh, Ellis,” Mom sighed with a smile. “This is good!”
I snorted and shook my head. “I joined an app. It’s not like I cured cancer.”
Mom’s expression turned serious as she looked at me. “It’s a good thing, Ellis. You’re doing something. You’re looking at the future. That’s all I want for you, you know? You don’t have to date anyone, but making a friend? That could be nice. I surely can’t be the best friend you could possibly have at twenty-one.”
My throat tightened, and I blinked.
“Okay, look, that was a fish for compliments. I’ll put the rod away.” Mom got to her feet and gave me a wink.
My laptop dinged, and I blanched.
Katie M has liked your profile!
“Oh!” Mom squeaked again, dancing on her feet. “Someone liked it already? Of course they did. You’re gorgeous. Click into it. I want to see my potential futuredaughter-in-law.”
“Mom!”
Mom huffed behind me impatiently as my finger hovered over the mouse, hesitant to click the notification. My heart felt like it was beating a little too fast. It completely irrational, considering this was how the app worked. Obviously. So why was I panicking now? It wasn’t as if someone had just proposed to me.
This was just amatch.
A simple stamp of digital approval.
Katie M – 22 – She/Her – Professional dog mom, part-time artist, full-time disaster.
I frowned and looked at her photos.
She had short dark hair that curled around her ears, warm brown eyes, and a friendly smile. She wore a striped shirt and cute blue overalls, holding a tiny, scruffy-looking dog in her arms.
She looked nonthreatening… safe.
I wasn’t sure about the “full-time disaster” bit, though.
I could practically feel Mom waiting on bated breath as I clicked the matching heart.
Match made! Say hello?
“Oh!” Mom squealed, clapping her hands.
I flinched at the noise. “Shit, Mom!”
