She could build something with a charitable component. Like what if a Decker sets a personal goal they’ve always wanted to achieve, and people cheer them on with donations? Similar to what people do for a track runner in a marathon. All the proceeds could go to that Decker’s family or a charity close to their hearts. That could work.

What if there was an app that’s basically Craigslist for Deckers who want to have an open house to get rid of their furniture? Though also what’s stopping Craigslist from creating that function themselves? Nothing.

Moving on.

Something that could also be very useful to the general public is to know where Deckers are congregating so they can choose to stay away if they don’t want to find themselves at risk of a sudden blast that may not kill them but could harm them. Ugh, no. Dalma hates everything about it. It not only tracks Deckers and doesn’t give them privacy, but it would ward people away from them like they’re lepers. Wow, Dalma hates the idea so badly she backspaces every last letter of that thought. She’d hate to die and have her family find this file and think less of who she was in life.

Maybe Dalma needs to keep the app simple, like a little to-do list for Deckers. But what sets that apart from all the others? Sure, feeling accomplished feels good and that feeling might be magnified for Deckers, but it’s not special enough. Anyone could have come up with this idea.

When Dalma starts wondering about creating a quiz app where you can find out what Scorpius Hawthorne character you are based on your End Day, she knows it’s time for bed.

She looks out her window, and sunlight is beginning to wake up her Bronx neighborhood.

It’s the start of a new day—and the beginning of a stranger’s End Day.

Valentino

6:30 a.m.

The alarm scares me awake; it’s like getting a Death-Cast call all over again.

It would’ve been nice to wake up and mistake my End Day for an ordinary Saturday, even for a few moments, but that wasn’t in the cards for me. At least I got to sleep for a couple hours where I didn’t have to worry about dying. No weird dreams or nightmares either. I silence the alarm and turn to find Orion still asleep, his lips slightly parted. I’ll let him rest for a bit longer.

I get out of bed with Orion’s phone, expecting to find some texts or missed calls from Scarlett when I remember she’s still in the air for another couple hours. There are messages from Dalma and Dayana asking Orion if he’s okay and I’ll leave those for him to answer.