Page 62 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
Dove rolled her eyes and headed to the bathroom, gripping her toiletry bag like she might use it to fend off Liv, should she decide to follow her in. It was abundantly clear she was not a morning person.
I busied myself packing up anything I’d taken out the night before. Once satisfied, I perched on the edge of the bed and opened a text to my mother.
Ellis [6:45 a.m.]
Headed to St. Louis today. Will be posting some content later.
By the time Dove emerged from the bathroom, my stomach was growling, Liv was counting backward from one million, and I was beyond ready to get the hell out.
Dove trudged out wearing a loose gray tee that hung off one shoulder and a pair of black frayed shorts. Her beat-up Converse completed the casual grunge aesthetic, if that’s what she was going for. She seemed to have put extra effort into her space buns this morning; they were tighter and more polished, though a few strands still hung loosely around her face. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or just a by-product of her hair’s stubborn personality.
Dove unceremoniously shoved her items into her duffel bag, and I winced at the rough way she picked up the tote bag that held her grandmother’s ashes—tucked away in a sandwich bag, of all things.
I didn’t say anything. None of it was my business. And if we ever got pulled in for questioning, I would be removing myself from any involvement as quickly as possible.
By the time we vacated and headed toward the motel’s front desk, it was almost 7:00 a.m. Liv was unusually quiet, Dove still looked half-asleep, and all I wanted was coffee and some eggs. I tugged on the front door, but it didn’t budge. I blinked and tugged again. Was it locked?
“I think they’re shut,” Dove mumbled behind me, her voice still thick with sleep. “Look, they have a drop box for keys.” She handed me an envelope and a pen.
I chewed my lip as I slipped the room key inside. I’d already paid for the room at check-in, so that part was fine. But what about the mirror?
I scribbled down my contact number and left a note asking them to call me about the broken mirror. I didn’t have time to wait around. I needed to eat, take my pills, and get on the road.
By the time we were seated in the same booth as yesterday, I could feel the lingering tension of having strayed from the plan begin to ease. We were on schedule, completely on track for the day, and the inner peace it gave me had me casually powering through my eggs, actually enjoying my food for the first time on this trip, rather than forcing it down while ignoring the anxiety coiled in my stomach.
The eggs were decent, not spectacular, not terrible. Just warm and salty enough that my body felt like it might finally forgive me for everything I’d put it through in the last twenty-four hours. I chased them with a sip of water and pulled out the AM tablets I needed to take.
I didn’t look across the table at Dove as I took them. I just tossed them back and followed with water, another wave of relief settling in as I mentally ticked off another item on my to-do list, right on time.
When I finally glanced up, Dove was chewing her way through a massive stack of pancakes, scrolling on her phone.
She just… minded her business.
She didn’t throw pitying glances across the table. Didn’t ask me any questions. These pills were usually a conversation starter, a chance for people to pry, to ask what each one did and why I had to take them. That was usually followed by soft eyes and a gushed, “You’re so brave.”
Dove gave me none of that. No looks. No questions. No softening.
I blinked, swallowing hard as that unnervingly unfamiliar feeling swept through me.
I felt eyes on me and turned to find Liv sitting beside Dove, arms crossed, looking right at me. A smirk tugged at her lips as she raised her brows.
I looked away.
“So,” Dove said, taking a sip of her orange juice, setting her phone down, and fixing me with an expectant gaze, “what’s the plan today?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Well, you spent so much time roasting the travel dossier yesterday, I would’ve thought you at leastreadit.”
“Ha!” Dove scoffed, as if the mere suggestion were ludicrous.
I huffed and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “We need gas first. Then we’re about two hours out from St. Louis with no breaks. If we can avoid traffic, even better. We’re going to stop off at Chain of Rocks Bridge, then head to Ted Drewes, it’s a custard place. A Route 66 staple, according to Liv.”
“It is,” Liv said matter-of-factly. “My best friend, Bri, that was her pick. She loved custard.”
That stricken feeling hit me again. That chilling reminder that Liv was once a real person. A person with family and friends... a friend who had planned a deeply detailed cross-country trip and never got to take it.
Instead, I was here. Alive. And doing it.
At Liv’s expense.
