Dead Girls Don't Say Sorry

ONE



Before


Nora, are you even paying attention to me?

I looked up from the wood grain of the table and offered Julia a sheepish grin. I m paying attention.

It was halfway true.

She shook her head, exasperated. How are you supposed to see anything if you don t even look?

You re the one who wanted to come here, I pointed out.

Our favorite haunt, mostly at Julia s insistence, was a little café within walking distance of both of our houses. It wasn t all that scenic--the view through the dust-coated windows consisted of a persistently shabby parking lot and the back entrance of the even shabbier recreation center--but every Tuesday at ten after one, the back doors of the rec center opened and the members of Centennial High s summer debate team started trickling out, and the view improved.

Spying on people wasn t my style, but it was Julia s. So, with mild reluctance, I agreed to be dragged here once a week all summer. It s what you do for a friend.

Here he comes. Julia reached across the table and tapped my arm.

Can you be any more obvious? I looked around and then glanced out the window. He s going to think we re creepy.

Nate Gibson, the object of our attention that day, stood outside the door to the rec center, deeply involved in conversation with another member of the team.

Who cares? We are being creepy. Julia mimed a pair of binoculars.

I rolled my eyes. Cut it out.

Julia laughed, tossing her blond hair over her shoulder. I m just glad you re finally into someone who isn t boring.

I crossed my arms, watching Nate catch a set of car keys with one hand and grin. The others weren t boring.

Are you kidding me? She scoffed. Please. Collectively, they had the personality of a peanut, and you know it.

Whatever. I slumped in my seat, knocking my sunglasses down over my eyes. The AC unit next to me ticked to life, raising goose bumps on my calves. Julia always shot down guys I liked, which

Alex Ritany is a lifelong reader and writer. When they’re not at the keyboard, you can find them hosting tabletop game night, working on illustrations, or at their other keyboard composing music. Alex’s love of art, music, and the western Canadian landscape regularly spills into their writing, which tends to feature complex friendships, twisty romances, and explorations of queerness. They live in Calgary with their roommate, cat, and dice collection. Dead Girls Don’t Say Sorry is their debut novel.

"Propels readers through one gut-wrenching discovery after another....Unsettling and sharply observed."  Kirkus Reviews

"Attentive pacing, riveting dialogue, and emotionally well-rounded characters." Publishers Weekly