They Both Die at the End (Death-Cast #1)(56)

“It’s not a huge secret, but I’m Batman . . . of the Manhattan graffiti world,” Gabriella says.

“Aw, you had me really excited, Batman . . . of the Manhattan graffiti world,” Zoe says.

“I specialize in graffiti pushing Last Friends. In some places I’ll draw with marker, like on menus and train posters, but my true love is graffiti. I’ve done tags for the Last Friends I’ve met. Anywhere I can. In the past week, I’ve covered walls with the cute silhouettes from the app by McDonald’s, two hospitals, and a soup spot. I hope everyone uses it.” Gabriella taps her fingers against the book. At first look, Zoe thought the colors around her nails was a polish job gone terribly wrong, but she knows the truth now. “Anyway. I love art and I will tag a mailbox or something with your name.”

“Maybe somewhere on the Broadway strip? I won’t ever have my name in lights, but it’ll be there,” Zoe says. She pictures her request now. Her heart is full and empty at the thought.

Passengers look up from their newspapers and phone games and stare at Zoe. Indifference on one’s face, pity on another’s. Pure sadness from a black woman with this gorgeous afro. “Sorry to lose you,” the woman says.

“Thank you,” Zoe says.

The woman returns to her phone.

Zoe scoots closer to Gabriella. “I feel like I made this weird,” she says, her voice quieter than before.

“Speak up while you can,” Gabriella says.

“Let’s see what that book is,” Zoe says. She’s curious. “Open it.”

Gabriella hands Zoe the book. “You open it. It’s your . . .”

“It’s my End Day, not my birthday,” Zoe says. “I don’t need a gift and I’m not exactly going to read the book in the next . . .” Zoe checks her watch and feels dizzy. She has at most nine hours left—and she’s a very slow reader. “Consider this gift left behind by someone else my gift to you. Thanks for being my Last Friend.”

The woman across looks up. Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m just really happy to hear you’re Last Friends. I’m happy you found someone on your End Day.” She gestures to Gabriella. “And that you’re helping make days full. It’s beautiful.”

Gabriella wraps an arm around Zoe’s shoulders and pulls her close. The two thank the woman.

Of course Zoe meets the most welcoming New Yorkers on her End Day.

“Let’s open it together,” Gabriella says, returning their attention to the book.

“Deal,” Zoe says.

Zoe hopes Gabriella continues befriending Deckers when she can.

Life isn’t meant to be lived alone. Neither are End Days.





MATEO


3:18 p.m.

Seeing Lidia will be a huge risk, but it’s one I want to take.

The bus pulls up and we allow everyone else to get on first before boarding. I ask the bus driver if he received the alert today and he shakes his head. This ride should be safe. We can still die on the bus, yeah, but the odds of the bus being completely totaled and killing us while leaving everyone else severely injured seem pretty low.

I borrow Rufus’s phone so I can call Lidia. My phone’s battery is dying, down close to thirty percent, and I want to make sure the hospital can reach me in case my dad wakes up. I move to a different seat near the back of the bus and dial Lidia’s number.

Lidia picks up almost instantly, but there’s still this pause before she answers, a lot like in the weeks after Christian died. “Hello?’

“Hi,” I say.

“Mateo!”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“You blocked my number! I taught you how to do that!”

“I had to—”

“How could you not tell me?”

“I—”

“Mateo, I’m your fucking best fucking friend—Penny, don’t listen to Mommy—and you don’t fucking tell me you’re dying?”

“I didn’t want—”

“Shut up. Are you okay? How are you doing?”

I’ve always thought Lidia is like a coin being flipped in the air. Tails is when she’s so pissed it’s like she’s turning her back on you and heads is when she sees you at her clearest. I think we’ve landed on heads, but who knows.

“I’m okay, Lidia. I’m with a friend. A new friend,” I say.

“Who is this? How’d you meet her?”

“The Last Friend app,” I say. “His name is Rufus. He’s a Decker too.”

“I want to see you.”

“Me too. That’s why I’m calling. Any chance you could drop off Penny somewhere and meet me at the Travel Arena?”

“Abuelita is already here. I called her—freaking the fuck out—hours ago and she came home from work. I’ll go to the arena, right now, but please get there safely. Don’t run. Walk slowly, except when you’re crossing the street. Only cross when it’s your light and only when there isn’t a car in sight, even if they’re stopped at a red light, or parked along the sidewalk. Actually, do not move. Where are you right now? I’m coming for you. Do not move unless someone around you looks shady.”

“I’m on a bus with Rufus already,” I say.