Rock, Paper, Scissors

Rufus

1:59 a.m.

My foster parents are waiting downstairs. They tried rushing in here the

second they found out, but Malcolm played bodyguard because he knew I

still needed a minute. I change into my cycling gear—my gym tights with

blue basketball shorts over them so my package isn't poking out there like

Spider-Man's, and my favorite gray fleece—because there's no other way I

can imagine getting around this city on my End Day except on my bike. I

grab my helmet because safety first. I take one last look at the room. I don't

break down or nothing like that, seriously, even as I remember playing

catch with my boys. I leave the light on as I step out and keep the door open

so Malcolm and Tagoe don't get weird about going back in.

Malcolm gives me a little smile. His playing-it-cool game is weak

'cause I know he's been losing his head, they all are. I would too if the

cards were reversed.

"You actually got Francis awake?" I ask.

"Yeah."

It's possible I'm gonna die at the hands of my foster father; if you're not

his alarm clock, you shouldn't wake him up.

I follow Malcolm downstairs. Tagoe, Jenn Lori, and Francis are there,

but they don't say anything. The first thing I wanna ask is if anyone has

heard from Aimee, like if her aunt is holding her up, but that's not right.

I really hope she didn't change her mind about wanting to see me.

It's gonna be okay, I gotta focus on everyone who is here.

Francis is wide awake and wearing his favorite-slash-only bathrobe, like

he's some kingpin whose business makes him stacks on stacks of money

instead of a technician spending the little he makes on us. Good guy, but he

looks mad wild because his hair is patchy since he cuts it himself to save a

few bucks, which is crazy stupid because Tagoe is a haircut artist. I kid you

not, Tagoe gives the best fades in the city and that bastard better open up his

own barbershop one day and give up his screenwriting dreams. Francis is

too white to rock a fade, though.

Jenn Lori dries her eyes with the collar of her old college T-shirt before

putting her glasses back on. She's at the edge of her seat, like when we'd

watch Tagoe's favorite slasher flicks, and just like then, she gets up, but not

because of some gross spontaneous combustion. She hugs me and cries into

my shoulder, and it's the first time anyone's hugged me since I got the alert

and I don't want her to let go, but I have to keep it moving. Jenn stays by

my side as I stare at the floor.

"One less mouth to feed, right?" No one laughs. I shrug. I don't know

how to do this. No one gives you lessons on how to brace everyone for your

death, especially when you're seventeen and healthy. We've all been

through enough seriousness and I want them to laugh. "Rock, Paper,

Scissors, anyone?"

I clap my fist against my palm, playing Scissors against no one. I do it

again, this time playing Rock, still against no one. "Come on, guys." I go

again and Malcolm plays Paper against my Scissors. It takes another

minute, but we get several rounds going. Francis and Jenn Lori are easy to

beat. I go up against Tagoe and Rock beats Scissors.

"Do-over," Malcolm says. "Tagoe switched from Paper to Rock last

second."

"Man, of all days to cheat Roof, why today?" Tagoe shakes his head.

I give Tagoe a friendly bro push. "Because you're a dick."

The doorbell rings.

I dart to the door, heart racing like whoa, and open it. Aimee's face is so

flushed I almost can't make out the huge birthmark on her cheek.

"Are you kidding me?" Aimee asks.

I shake my head. "I can show you the time stamp on my phone."

"Not about your End Day," Aimee says. "This." She steps to the side

and points at the bottom of the stairs—at Peck and his wrecked face. The

one I said I never wanted to see again as long as I lived.