Page 30 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
I turned toward Ida, ready to crack a joke, when the door clicked shut behind another girl who had slipped in just before it closed, and I frowned.
Vibrant pink hair tumbled in loose waves past her shoulders, and she wore a white off-the-shoulder sequined top that sparkled like a disco ball as she stepped into the sunlight. The sequins caught the reflections of the crystals, scattering light across the shop walls like a thousand tiny mirror flashes. A black leather skirt hugged her hips, and she wore a frankly terrifying pair of thigh-high black boots. She looked dressed for a night out, her sharp cat eye and bold red lips confirmed it, and I blinked.
What in the yin and yang was this pairing?
I tilted my head, unsure why I even cared or was showing interest, yet still trying to make sense of the scene in front of me.
Were they a couple? Possibly. I mean, I’d seen odder combinations. My last girlfriend, for instance, had been a five-foot-nothing blonde who dressed like she was perpetually en route to Paris Fashion Week. Me? I wore space buns so often my hair had permanent waves. At the moment, I was rocking an oversized tie-dyed tee, black bike shorts, and my usual black Converse that were barely hanging on by an inch of their life.
The pink-haired girl leaned toward her redhead companion as she browsed the shelves and whispered something so sharp I could practically feel the tension from across the store.
“You can’t ignore me forever,” she hissed, low and pointed.
My brows shot up. A lovers’ spat?
Before I could get too invested, Ida’s voice snapped me back to attention.
“Dove, show me how to pull a receipt again?” she asked, squinting at the screen with a frown.
“Yeah, sure,” I murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair up and lazily twisting it into my left bun. I showed her which buttons to press, and she nodded sagely, peering over her spectacles with such serious focus you’d think I was teaching her witchcraft.
“You’re so smart,” she said warmly, following my prompts. “I’m afraid I skipped the technology skills. I still have a flip phone, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” I teased. “I’ve seen that brick. This system is still archaic though, compared to what we could have.”
Ida swatted at me with a laugh before finally pulling the receipt she’d been looking for.
“Yes, it does seem like a lot of work,” Ida murmured. “And such a waste of paper, these receipts.”
“Hmm,” I murmured.
I turned my gaze back toward the duo, only to blink in surprise. The redhead was now making her way over to the counter, sans sparkly companion. Her expression? Pure terror, if you asked me. She was clutching a candle like it was the only thing tethering her to Earth.
I blinked at her. The shop wasn’t that scary. Even for skeptics.
She set the candle down with an awkward, soft “hello,” her eyes flicking briefly to the sign advertising tarot readings, then darting quickly away.
“Would you like a reading, dear?” Ida asked gently as she keyed the candle into the till.
“Oh... n-no,” the girl stammered, her cheeks flushing. “I just noticed the deck in the display... it—it reminded me of a friend who had the same one.”
Ida nodded warmly. “It is a lovely deck. Have you ever had your cards read before?”
The girl scoffed under her breath.
And something stiffened in my spine at the sound.
My eyes narrowed.
“A few times,” the girl said quickly, shaking her head. “I don’t really… believe in it. No offense.”
“Odd shop to come into, then,” I said before I could stop myself. But the sound of her judgy little scoff had my ears ringing as I aggressively wrapped the candle in tissue paper.
Ida nudged me sharply in the ribs.
The girl swallowed thickly before continuing. “I just used to humor her. She would pull some cards… now and then…” Her voice trailed off, and she eyed the candle before her gaze locked onto mine. Piercing green, so clear and intense it nearly knocked the wind out of me.
I didn’t like the jolt that shot through me. I didn’t like how I suddenly noticed things about her face, how those luminous green eyes were framed by thick black lashes, how her lips were full and perfectly shaped, even though they carried that subtle smirk people wear when they think the whole thing’s a joke... maybe even to themselves.
