Page 57 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
“Well, I never,” Barbara said, shaking her head with a shrug. “That’s a win. Now we don’t have to pay to fix it. Oh, this is a good one, isn’t it, Mav?”
The two women began to sway behind the counter, and I glanced at Ellis. Her green eyes had gone wide again, in that same fearful way they had beneath the Gemini Giant, when the ghost chasers tried filming us. Like she was terrified of being caught with a ghostno one else could see.
“You ever wonder what Liv was like before?” I asked.
Ellis turned to me, tearing her eyes from the jukebox.
“Yes,” she breathed, shaking her head. “I mean, she’s certifiably insane, and I don’t know if that’s a death thing or just who she is. And if it is who she is, then her wild heart is beating in my incredibly stiff, put-together chest.” Ellis frowned and poked her veggie wrap for a second before looking back at me. “It’s weird. I mean… someone’s heart—herheart—beats inside my chest, and I know nothing about her. This person who’s keeping me alive…”
“You know her name now,” I said, still trying to wrap my head around Ellis’s thoughts. “It’s a start.”
“Yeah,” Ellis muttered.
How did it feel? I wondered idly. To have someone else’s life force inside your body? Did it feel foreign and unfamiliar, or was it something normal, maybe even natural? Ellis took another bite of her veggie wrap and seemed to actually enjoy it. Or maybe she just forced herself to like it. Who knew? What else did she have to force her way through in life?
“So,” Liv’s voice chimed suddenly beside me, and I choked on a strawberry as I caught her in my peripheral vision. “We heading to Lincoln House or what?”
The Lincoln Homestood behind me, a grand and stately structure preserved through time, proudly lording over the historic site at the center of its quiet street. It was a two-story house, painted a warm ochre, with green shutters framing each window with confidence. I wouldn’t have paired the two colors myself, but who was I to judge 1800s style?
Ellis stood a few feet ahead, facing the house, her back straight and chin slightly lifted as she spoke into her camera. She looked less tense now, a bit more relaxed since we’d left the diner, but she was definitely in camera mode. Her voice carried faintly toward me, steady and polished.
It was just like earlier, when she’d filmed in the car. She played this version of herself she’d created for her followers. Measured, chirpy and curated. As soon as she stopped recording, her entire demeanor shifted, and she’d frown while reviewing the footage.
We’d just finished the tour inside. The scent of must and wood polish still clung to my clothes, and I crinkled my nose.
I looked back toward the house and stifled a yawn, watching a group of elderly tourists file inside, each of them wearing a matching sun visor and bum bag, dressed in varying shades of white, pink, or blue, clutching museum pamphlets like they were tickets to the Louvre.
This was so boring.
Ellis began walking over, pocketing her phone as she approached. She glanced up at the house, a thoughtful expression settling on her face.
“I missed out on coming here during a class field trip once,” she murmured, frowning. “Everyone came back with cool souvenirs, talking about how great it was.”
“Why’d you miss out?” I asked.
“Got sick,” she muttered with a shrug.
“That sucks,” I told her, leaning against the property’s fence. “Well, you’re here now. You can still grab yourself a souvenir. If they sell those stovepipe hats, I definitely want one.”
Ellis snickered faintly, then sighed. “So, I have some bad news.”
“Oh?” I asked, straightening up. “What?”
“The action park is closed for maintenance,” she said. “We can’t go today.”
Relief flooded me, and I found myself grinning. “Really? Thank God. I am exhausted.”
Ellis raised an eyebrow. “I expected more disappointment.”
“Maybe from Liv,” I murmured. “But I’m so tired I don’t think I have the energy to do anything there anyway. And I doubt it’s the only park on the route.”
“It’s not,” Ellis said with a nod. “Okay, well... we should break the news to Liv—”
Her voice trailed off as she looked toward the porch, where Liv stood waving her hands in front of people’s faces with a grin. Then she hopped onto the railing and puffed out her chest.
“If she delivers a Gettysburg Address, I’m out of here,” Ellis muttered.
Ellis waved at Liv, who had her mouth open and poised—as if preparing to deliver something theatrical—but, catching Ellis’s eye, she jumped down from the porch and pranced over to us, eyes alight.
