The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(96)

“I’m sure they loved that.”

“They called the pilot’s heart attack a coincidence. I’m still hoping they’re right.”

It’s telling that I could die on this webcam and my parents still wouldn’t believe Death-Cast predicted my fate the same way Scarlett will ultimately come to terms with it. Thankfully, I’m not trying to convince anyone that I’m going to die today. I just need to get some things off my chest. There’s also the matter of the morbid segue about how I need to get something out of my chest too.

“Scar, there’s something else you should know.”

She’s immediately alarmed as if I finally have some medical diagnosis that will lead to my death. “What?”

“It’s a good thing. If I die, my heart will be donated to Orion.”

Scarlett has the saddest smile. “That’s really beautiful.”

“Hopefully Death-Cast is wrong, and I can personally introduce you two. Just know that I was always willing to give him my heart even when he was a really nice stranger, and now more than ever I’m proud that I’m going to have played a big role in helping my extraordinary boyfriend live on.”

Her hands press against her own heart. “I’m excited to hang out with you and your boyfriend.”

“I’d love that.”

I don’t think Scarlett and I will have a traditional goodbye. Not when she’s still holding on to hope that she’s going to see me tomorrow.

I’ll have to find another way to say everything I have to say to my favorite person.

“I’m ready,” I say.

Scarlett carries the laptop into the living room, where Mom and Dad are on the couch rewatching It’s a Wonderful Life with their fans blowing. Scarlett grabs the remote and turns off the TV.

“What are you doing?” Dad asks.

“Put the movie back on,” Mom says.

She sets the laptop down on my father’s ottoman. “Valentino needs to talk to you.”

My parents stare at me. Mom is wearing her bathrobe with her planner in her lap. She’s the only person I know who manages to see those planners through to the end. Dad is in a white shirt tucked into gray shorts while snacking on those Royal Dansk Danish cookies straight out of their blue tin. They’re both quiet, even though there’s plenty they can say. They can ask me about my flight. How I’m settling in. Even thank me for getting out of their house. But they look away as if their movie has resumed playing. I don’t necessarily want to see them later if all they’re going to do is repeat the same behavior that made me uncomfortable in the very house I grew up in.

I’m about to ask Scarlett to return to her room with the laptop so we can spend this valuable time talking instead, but I’m not going to be driven away again.

I’m going to live a first—the first time I talk openly about my life.

“New York has been a roller coaster, thanks for asking. Have you been following all the Death-Cast news? Did you hear about the shooting that happened in Times Square? I was one of the people who got shot at, which was especially scary because it happened moments after Death-Cast called to tell me I’m going to die.”

They both turn to the screen like they can’t control themselves, like magnetism.

“You’re probably wondering why this is news to you since I’ve known since midnight. It’s because I was willing to die without telling you because I don’t believe you care about my life. I am your only son. Your firstborn. The reason you became parents, and you never even tried to love me once I told you I’m gay.”

They both wince, like I’ve said a bad word. Like I’m bad.

“There will come a time when you have to reckon with how you made me so unwelcomed that I moved away. But I want to thank you for being so unloving because it pushed me out of your house and into the arms of a boy with the biggest heart. He’s made sure my last day on this planet is filled with the love and kindness I deserve, and I’m going to spend what’s left of my life with him even if that means I’m going to hell when it’s all done.”





Orion


5:05 p.m.

My boyfriend—yeah, boyfriend. And what!—is in my house.

This is still blowing my mind.

I wouldn’t have ever put down money on meeting someone who goes from “boy” to “boyfriend” in under a day. I should bet on myself some more. Last night, I swore Valentino was so out of my league, and I’m not knocking him now when I say that he isn’t. I’m just showing myself some love because I showed up for a stranger who needed some himself without expecting anything in return; I wasn’t even in it for the heart. We’re in the same league—except when it comes to train performances obviously—and I’m just as great and dope as he is, and we would’ve done even more great and dope things if we had the time to be great and dope together but the sun is going down and that means it’s almost lights out.

I’m getting stressed, feeling like I should Decker-proof the house for Valentino and everyone else: get all the cords off the floor, maybe even unplug everything that’s unnecessary; quadruple-check that the smoke alarms have working batteries; clear the hallway for emergency exits; place cushions at the bottom of each stairway in case anyone falls; and barricade the windows to protect us against intruders. All I would be doing is delaying the inevitable when instead I can be living with Valentino while I can. I took the time to finish cleaning my bedroom and setting it up for something great, something that I think might be the relaxer he needs after what’s got to be a tough conversation with his family.