Valentino is lost in thought, and I’m scared he’s going to back out. “I have one condition.”

“Anything,” I say, and I mean it.

“If you’re going to be my photographer, we need to get a really good camera. No phone pictures.”

“Done deal. One really good camera, coming up.”

We’re going to turn this End Day around.

Not like a fucking ship but like two boys who are determined to make every last moment count.

“Thanks for not leaving me alone, Orion.”

My eyes travel from his heart-shaped lips that I want to kiss straight to his gaze.

“I’m your friend to the end, Valentino.”

Valentino

8:38 a.m.

Nothing is open yet on my End Day.

These department stores being closed feels like another slight against me, even though I know it’s just bad timing that I’m dying on a Saturday. I don’t have the luxury of waiting until ten or eleven to buy a camera. Hopefully some businesses are planning more overnight operations for the Deckers who won’t be starting their End Days at the crack of dawn with everyone else.

“I think I found a spot,” Orion says, reading something off his phone. “It’s a pawnshop that’s open twenty-four-seven. I don’t know if they’ll have a camera, but worth checking out.”

“Is it far?” I’m already thinking about getting back on the train to see if my luck changes with the subway performers.

“Three blocks back.”

As Orion leads the way, I read all of Scarlett’s text messages that chronicle her time on the plane. She was panicking—scared that the pilot was going to fly everyone to their deaths, scared that she would be proof that Death-Cast was wrong, scared that I would be dead before we can see each other again one last time. All her words and every last typo from frantic typing burn into my brain, and I hate that she had to experience this fear. I want to apologize, as if dying is my fault; I guess it sort of will be if dying safely for the heart transplant is an option.

Scarlett won’t want me to go through with the operation.

“You’re walking straight into your grave,” she’ll say.

Then I’ll tell her, “I’m going to die anyway.”

“But what if Death-Cast is wrong?” she’ll ask.

That’s the big gamble. If I roll those dice and still die, then Orion might too.

I want to live, but I can’t risk that, can I?

It’s unfortunate that my End Day is Death-Cast’s first day. If I had more information on their accuracy record I could know if my call was an error after all. But I don’t, and I won’t get it. It’s just yet another reason why I’m dying with bad timing.

Naya Rosa

8:40 a.m.