Lidia sees us holding hands right as Rufus lets go and I take hers in mine, leading her toward the bathrooms, where it’s a little quieter. “Don’t slap me,” I say, “but I’m obviously into Rufus and he’s into me and I’m sorry for never telling you someone like Rufus is someone I would be into. I thought I had more time to accept myself, you know, even though I never really saw anything ugly or wrong about it. I think I was waiting around for a reason—something beautiful and awesome to accompany any declaration. It’s Rufus.”
Lidia raises her hand. “I still want to slap you, Mateo Torrez.” She wraps her arms around me instead. “I don’t know this Rufus character, and I’m not sure how well you know him either after one day, but—”
“I don’t know every detail about his past. But what I’ve gotten out of him in one day is more than I feel like I ever deserved. I don’t know if that makes sense.”
“What am I going to do without you?”
This loaded question is the reason I didn’t want anyone to know I was dying. There are questions I can’t answer. I cannot tell you how you will survive without me. I cannot tell you how to mourn me. I cannot convince you to not feel guilty if you forget the anniversary of my death, or if you realize days or weeks or months have gone by without thinking about me.
I just want you to live.
On the wall there are markers of many colors, most of them dried out, hanging from rubber cords. I find a bold orange marker that works and I tiptoe to reach this blank space where I write: MATEO WAS HERE AND LIDIA WAS BY HIS SIDE, AS ALWAYS.
I hug Lidia. “Promise me you’ll be okay.”
“It would be a huge lie.”
“Please lie to me,” I say. “Come on, tell me you’ll keep moving. Penny needs you at one hundred percent, and I need to know you’ll be strong enough to take care of the future global leader.”
“Damn it, I can’t—”
“Something is wrong,” I say. My heart is pounding. Aimee is standing between Rufus and the Plutos and three guys who are yelling over her. Lidia grabs my hand, like she’s trying to drag me backward a bit, to save my life before I can get caught up in this. She’s scared she’s going to have to watch me die and I am too. The shorter guy with the bruised face pulls out a gun—who could want to kill Rufus like this?
The guy he jumped.
Everyone notices the gun and pandemonium rages in the club. I run toward Rufus, guests charging into me as they run for the door. I get knocked down and people are stepping on me and this is how I’m going to die, a minute before Rufus gets shot to death, maybe even the same minute. Lidia is screaming at everyone to stop and back off, and she’s helping me up. There haven’t been any gunshots yet, but everyone is steering clear of the circle. This stampede is impossible to get through and I can’t reach Rufus and I’m not going to be able to touch him again while he’s still alive.
RUFUS
5:59 p.m.
I wanna get at Aimee, thinking she led him here, but she’s standing between me and his gun. I know she’s not gonna die today, but that don’t make her bulletproof. I don’t know how Peck knew to find me here, with his goons and a gun, but this is it for me.
I can’t be stupid. I can’t be a hero.
I don’t wanna make peace with this—maybe if I had a gun pointed at me before I met Mateo and got my Plutos back, yeah, whatever, pull the trigger. But my life is stepping its game up.
“You not talking shit now, huh?” Peck asks. His hand is shaking.
“Don’t do this. Please.” Aimee shakes her head. “This will end your life too.”
“You begging for him, right? You don’t give a shit about me.”
“I will never give a shit about you if you do this.”
She better not be saying this just to calm him down, because I will haunt the hell out of these two if they actually stay together. I wanna take my shot at hiding behind Malcolm for a second and dashing toward Peck, but that’s not gonna get me far.
Mateo.
He’s coming up behind Peck and I shake my head at him, which Peck sees. Peck turns and I run at him because Mateo’s life is threatened. Mateo punches Peck in the face, which is straight unbelievable, and it doesn’t send Peck to the floor or nothing like that, but we got a chance now. Peck’s homie swings at Mateo and is about to rock his head off his shoulders, but he pulls back at the last second, like he recognizes him—I don’t know, but Mateo finally steps back. Peck lunges for Mateo and I charge at him, but Malcolm beats me to it, running into Peck and his boy like a train, carrying them through the air as the gun drops, and he slams them against the wall.
The gun doesn’t go off, we all good.
Peck’s other boy goes for the gun and I kick him in the face as he goes to grab it, and Tagoe jumps on top of him. I grab the gun. I can try and end Peck for good and keep Aimee safe from him. I point the gun at him as Malcolm clears away. Mateo is looking at me the way he did when I caught up with him after he ran away from me. Like I’m dangerous.
I unload the gun.
All the bullets find their way into the wall.
I grab Mateo and we jet because Peck and his people are here to kill and we’re the ones most likely to find a knife in our necks or bullets in our heads.
This day is doing me dirty on goodbyes.
DALMA YOUNG
6:20 p.m.
Death-Cast did not call Dalma Young because she isn’t dying today, but if they had, she would’ve spent the day with her half sister, and maybe even a Last Friend—she created the app, after all.
“I promise you don’t want to work for me,” Dalma says, her arm interlocked with her half sister’s as they cross the street. “I don’t want to work for me. This job has become such a job.”
“But this internship is so stupid,” Dahlia says. “If I’m going to work this hard in tech, I might as well get paid triple what I’m receiving now.” Dahlia is the most impatient twenty-year-old in New York. She refuses to slow down and is always ready to move from one phase of her life to the next. When she started dating her last girlfriend, she brought up getting married within a week. And now she wants to turn her tech internship into a Last Friend job. “Whatever. How did the meetings go? Did you get to meet Mark Zuckerberg?”
“Meetings went really well,” Dalma says. “Twitter may launch the feature as soon as next month. Facebook may need a little more time.”
Dalma is in town meeting with developers from both Twitter and Facebook. This morning, she pitched a new Last Message feature that will allow respective users to prepare their final tweets/statuses so their online legacy is more meaningful than, say, their thoughts on a popular movie or some viral video of someone else’s dog.
“What do you think your Last Message would be?” Dahlia asks. “I’ll probably go with that Moulin Rouge! quote about how the greatest thing in the world is to love and be loved in return and yadda blah whatever.”