For everyone.
“I need a sec.”
I take off the blood pressure cuff and electrodes. I get out of bed against all protests and leave the ER, hoping to find Valentino before it’s too late. I’m relieved—and surprised—Dalma isn’t following me, but I bet some nurses are going to try to escort me back to my bed before I can find Valentino. Then I stop bugging because the search is over.
Valentino is in the waiting room.
Shit, I’m so relieved. It’s killed all suspense on where he’s at, which is good for my heart.
“There you are.”
“What are you doing out of bed?” he asks.
“Looking for you. You pulled some low-key magic act and vanished.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, getting up and helping me to the seats, which makes me feel so damn ancient, but I guess this is how he cares for someone fresh out of the ER. “I just needed to think some things over.”
“It’s okay, I get it. I just didn’t know if you left to go . . . to go do whatever comes next.”
“I definitely thought about it, but I think my place is here.”
“Really?” I ask, wondering if it’s got anything to do with me, which is so stupid because what am I trying to make happen with someone whose future is about to be cut real short? Scratch that, it’s not stupid, he’s still alive and his life is worth living until the end, I proved that when I didn’t just let him get shot in the streets. But I’ve got to recognize that I’ve got storyteller bones in my body and I can build, build, build a narrative out of nothing. I bet Valentino is only still here because a hospital is a pretty solid place to be if you’re about to die for some mysterious reason.
“Do you have your phone?” Valentino asks.
I wrestle my phone out of the pocket of my skinny jeans.
“Nothing from Death-Cast?”
I click the side button, the screen lighting up with texts from Team Young but no missed calls. “No, but it’s not too late,” I say, seeing we’re one minute away from the End Day calls stopping at 2:00 a.m.
Suddenly, it feels like the last minute before midnight all over again, except this time we’re not surrounded by countless strangers. It’s just the two of us, watching the phone’s clock and waiting to see if he’ll be dying alone or if we’ll be going out in a blaze together.
The clock hits two, and no one’s calling.
Valentino
2:00 a.m.
Death-Cast isn’t calling Orion because he’s not going to die today, and I think I know why.
This night is unfolding like a photo shoot coming together. For once, I’m not the subject. I’m the photographer, and everything is zooming into focus, like I’m switching out lenses until I land on the best one. The background is still a bit blurry, but if I adjust the aperture just enough, light enters and exposes the true model of this photo shoot. The boy with the constellation name. I’ve only seen some of his stars at work, but I understand the beauty. Orion is the focal point, so I stare at him and the sharpness of his hazel eyes and the hunched framing of his body, and once everything is aligned, just like stars in a constellation, everything becomes clear.
“You’re going to live,” I say.
“Until tomorrow, I guess.”
“You’re going to have much longer than you think.”
“So you got some psychic Death-Cast powers or something?”
“No, but I think destiny brought us together so I can change your future.”
“I don’t get it.”