Valentino is still, the harsh lights of the ER beaming down on him like he’s in the studio. Except no one should take his photo right now because I’d hate the thousand words that picture would say. His arms are crossed as he stares at the floor, lost in his own world—a really fucked-up world where Death-Cast called him and a fucked-up stranger tried to kill him and a fucked-up fate awaits him.

“Can you give him a physical or something?” I ask Dr. Emeterio. Just because someone looks fine on the outside doesn’t mean they’re not living with invisible threats. “Maybe an X-ray can show us what’s going on.”

Valentino considers this, not lifting his eyes. “We know what’s happening. I’ve got a case of death.”

I hate seeing Valentino so defeated. Since I can’t donate some luck, I want to throw some hope his way. It just can’t come from me.

“Dr. Emeterio, there’s no way every Death-Cast prediction is going to come true, right?”

For a single second, time stops.

Breaths are held.

Eyes don’t blink.

No one’s dying.

Then a single word unfreezes everyone.

“No.”

Hearts are beating.

Hope is building.

“It seems very unlikely that Death-Cast will have a perfect record, especially on the first night of the program,” Dr. Emeterio says.

This is seriously music to my ears, and I think Valentino is listening closely too, like this is about to become his new favorite song.

“There’s no known science behind the End Days, or if it’s science at all, but seeing as I don’t have the imagination of my kids, I’m opting to believe Death-Cast’s sources are operating in the same field as mine. I’m not getting stressed out over extraterrestrials or sorcery until someone gives me concrete proof,” Dr. Emeterio says with a little grin. “What’s important to keep in mind is that as life changes and science advances, mistakes are made.”

“This is refreshing,” Dalma says. “O’s doctor doesn’t even believe in Death-Cast.”

Dr. Emeterio rolls her eyes, immortalizing herself as my favorite doctor. “That’s unfortunate. It’s a disservice to our patients to not embrace Death-Cast, especially for someone like you, Orion, who may require a transplant in the near future if your heart isn’t stable.”

“I’m on the waitlist, but my doctor keeps trying to stick a ventricular heart device in me instead.”

“It’s a solid consideration if you’re okay with the necessary recovery time pushing you further down the waitlist,” Dr. Emeterio says.

“Which would suck if my match appeared,” I say.

Every physician we’ve consulted agrees that your boy needs a new heart, but they’re also quick to let me know my situation isn’t critical enough compared to other patients, aka I’m not dying enough for anyone to save my life now.