The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(31)

Dalma hops off the bed and blocks my path. “I’m trying to protect you. Not fight you.”

I know her heart is in the right place—physically and emotionally. But even with my big-ass imagination, I can’t imagine not getting to know Valentino while I can.

And by tomorrow, I can’t.

There’s a knock at the door, and Valentino and Dr. Emeterio enter.

This is it.

Suspense really isn’t good for someone with my condition, and every second of silence is brutal.

“What’s up?” I ask, wanting to get this over with, one way or the other.

“It’s nice that something good will come out of this,” Valentino says, pressing his hand to his chest.

My heart skips a beat, two, ten, a hundred, a thousand, a million, and somehow, I don’t die on the spot.

In fact, I’m going to live.

I’m going to live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live.

But first, he has to die.





Valentino


2:22 a.m.

I could have lived my whole life telling people they will live.

One person will have to be enough.

Orion is frozen like a statue, though given his flowing tears, he’s more like a fountain.

“Wow,” Dalma says. That’s all she’s got before she’s lost for words. She squeezes Orion’s hand, and it’s like she has some magical touch that unfreezes him.

Orion flies into my arms. “I—I just. I’m so . . . you know . . .”

“I know,” I say.

The first time I hugged Orion was after he shared his story about losing his parents. Now it’s because of my heart he’ll be gaining. This is really nice. It’s so soothing how his curls brush against my jawline. The weight of his head on my shoulder makes me feel really grounded, like I haven’t been completely uprooted from this planet even though I’m the only one in this room who’s dying today. What’s really incredible is how our hearts are beating against each other’s chests, like they’re communicating in their own language as to what happens next.

I realize I don’t fully understand everything myself.

I pat Orion’s back and pull away. I hand him a box of tissues, and he dries his eyes.

“I should call Mom,” Dalma says, about to step out.

“Wait, Dalma? Has my sister called?”

She shakes her head. “We’ll keep trying, though.”

“Okay,” I say, even though Dalma has stepped out.

The more I tell myself that Scarlett is fine, the more it begins to feel like a lie. Just because Scarlett and I came into this world together doesn’t mean we’re destined to leave at the same time too. In about a half hour it will be midnight in Arizona. Scarlett still has time to sign up for Death-Cast. I hope she’s not a Decker too.

“How are we doing this operation?” I ask Dr. Emeterio.

Dr. Emeterio gestures for us to have a seat as if this is going to be a long conversation. Orion and I sit together, our shoulders brushing as we fidget in these uncomfortable chairs. Dr. Emeterio stares like she can’t believe her eyes. “I’ve been a cardiac surgeon for years, but this is a first for me, gentlemen. Living heart donors who aren’t participants because of brain death are rare to come by and, even then, it’s usually a family member getting involved.”

“Not strangers who met at Times Square,” Orion says.

“Or anywhere,” I add.

“Indeed. This is very generous,” Dr. Emeterio says.

“Have I thanked you yet?” Orion asks me.

“You don’t—”

“I don’t think I did. I just hugged you.”

“It’s okay—”

“Oh my god, thank you. Also, if you change your mind, it’s all good. You don’t owe me this. Seriously, I’m not going to get mad or hold a grudge, I’ll respect your choice.”

“Grudge wouldn’t last too long,” I say, intending to make a joke, but I sound hollow.

Orion blushes, not finding it funny either. “Right.”

It’s quiet again. Heart transplants are supposed to feel more dramatic with more noise. Hospital doors banging open. Fast footsteps. Nurses shouting patients’ stats. Crash carts being prepared for surgery. But there’s been a lot of silence tonight because we have time. Or at least we think we do. That ceiling light could drop on my head now before I even make it to the operating table. Things would really start getting noisy then to claim my heart while they can.

“Am I going to die first?” I ask.

Dr. Emeterio shakes her head. “It’s actually critical that you’re alive. We will need you in a vegetative state.”

“So I’ll be in a coma?”

“Essentially. But one of our biggest obstacles is going to be getting the right people to sign off on this procedure with such a short window. I’m afraid we don’t know any more about Death-Cast than the general public, and as doctors, it’s in our ethics to support you first.”

“To act like I’m not dying,” I say.

“Correct. It’s like I said before: it’s very possible Death-Cast can be wrong. But we’re not going to know until . . .”

“Until after I’ve died.”