Train station

Rufus

4:09 a.m.

Yo, Mateo is too good. Definitely not suspicious of him anymore, it's not

like he's got it in him to jump me. But I'm mad shocked to meet someone

so . . . pure? I wouldn't say I've only ever surrounded myself with assholes,

but Malcolm and Tagoe are never gonna bury a bird in their lives, let's be

real fucking clear about that. Beating down that bastard Peck tonight proves

we're not innocent. I'll bet you anything Mateo has no idea how to make a

fist and couldn't imagine himself getting violent, not even when he was a

kid and dumb shit was forgiven and written off because he was young.

There's no way I'm telling him about Peck. I'll take it to my grave

today.

"We out to see who first?"

"My dad. We can take this subway." Mateo points. "It's only two stops

downtown, but it's safer than walking."

Two stops downtown would be a quick five-minute bike ride for me,

and I'm tempted to just meet him there, but my gut is telling me this Mateo

kid will screw up and leave me hanging outside the train station. I carry my

bike down the stairs by its handlebars and seat. I roll my bike around the

corner while Mateo cautiously hangs back a bit, and I catch him peeking

before following me, like when I went to that haunted house thing in

Brooklyn with Olivia a few years ago—except I was a kid. I don't know

what he's expecting to find, and I'm not asking either.

"You're good," I say. "Coast is clear."

Mateo creeps behind me, still suspicious of the empty corridor leading

to the turnstiles. "I wonder how many other Deckers are hanging out with

strangers right now. A lot are probably dead by now. Car accident or fire or

shot or fallen down a manhole or . . ." He stops himself. Dude really knows

how to paint a picture of tragedy. "What if they were on their way to say

bye to someone close to them and then—" Mateo claps. "Gone. It's not

fair. . . . I hope they weren't alone."

We get to the MetroCard vending machine. "Nope. Not fair. I don't

think it matters who you're with when you die—someone's company isn't

gonna keep you alive once Death-Cast hits you up." This has gotta be taboo

for a Last Friend to say, but I'm not wrong. Still feel a little bad when it

shuts Mateo up.

Deckers get some perks, like free unlimited passes for the subway, you

just gotta bother the teller with some form. But the "unlimited" part is

bullshit because they expire at the end of your End Day. A few weeks ago

the Plutos claimed we were dying so we could score free passes for our

adventure to Coney Island, thinking the dude would give us a break and let

us through. But nah, he had us waiting for confirmation from Death-Cast

servers, which can take longer than waiting for an express train, so we just

bounced. I buy an unlimited MetroCard, the non-Decker, I-still-gottomorrows

edition, and Mateo copies.

We swipe our way in to the platform. This could be our last ride for all

we know.

Mateo points back at the booth. "Is it crazy to think the MTA won't

need any station staffers in a few years because machines—maybe even

robots—will take over their jobs? It's sort of happening already if you think

about . . ."

The roar of the approaching train drowns Mateo out a little at the end

there, but it's fine, I get what he's saying. The real victory here is catching a

train instantly. Now we can safely rule out falling onto the exposed tracks,

getting stuck while rats run by us, and straight chopped up and flattened by

the train—damn, Mateo's grimness is already rubbing off on me.

Before the doors even open, I see one of those train takeovers going

down, the ones where college kids host parties on trains to celebrate not

getting the alert Mateo and I got. I guess dorm parties got old, so they're

wilding out on the subway instead—and we're joining them, dammit. "Let's

go," I tell Mateo when the doors open. "Hurry." I rush and wheel my bike

in, asking someone to make room for us, and when I turn to make sure my

back tire isn't keeping Mateo from getting in, I see he's not behind me at

all.

Mateo is standing outside the car, shaking his head, and at the last

second before the doors close he darts into the empty car ahead of mine,

one that has sleeping passengers and isn't blasting a remixed version of

"Celebration." (It's a classic anthem, but let's retire it already.)

Look, I don't know why Mateo bitched out, but it's not gonna ruin my

vibe. It's a party car—I wasn't asking him to go bungee jumping or

skydiving. It's far from daredevil territory.

"We Built This City" comes on, and a girl with two handheld stereos

hops onto the bench seat to dance. Some dude is hitting on her, but her eyes

are closed and she's just straight-up lost in her moment. In the corner some

dude with a hood over his face is knocked out; either he's had a really good

time or there's a dead Decker on this train.

Not funny.

I lean my bike against an empty bench seat—yeah, I'm that guy whose

bike gets in everyone's way, but I'm also dying, so cut me some slack—and

step over the sleeping guy's feet to peek into the next car. Mateo is staring

into my car like some kid who's been grounded and forced to watch his

friends play from his bedroom window. I gesture for him to come over, but

he shakes his head and stares down at the floor, never looking up at me

again.

Someone taps my shoulder. I turn and it's this gorgeous hazel-eyed

black girl with an extra can of beer in her hand. "Want one?"

"Nah, I'm good." I shouldn't be getting buzzed.

"More for me. I'm Callie."

I miss that a little. "Kelly?"

She leans in to me, her breasts against my chest and her lips against my

ear. "Callie!"

"Hey, Callie, I'm Rufus," I say back into her ear since she's already

here. "What are you—"

"My stop is next," Callie interrupts. "Want to get off with me? You're

cute and seem like a nice guy."

She's definitely my type, which means she's also Tagoe's type.

(Malcolm's type is any girl who likes him back.) But since there isn't much

I can offer her, besides what she's obviously suggesting, I gotta pass.

Having sex with a college girl has gotta be on mad people's bucket lists—

young people, married-dude people, boys, girls, you get it.

"I can't," I say. I gotta have Mateo's back, and I also have Aimee on the

brain. I'm not trying to cheat that with something fake like this.

"Sure you can!"

"I really can't, and it sucks," I say. "I'm taking my friend to the hospital

to see his dad."

"Forget you then." Callie turns her back on me, and she's talking to

another guy within a minute, which is good on her since he actually follows

her out of the train when we come to her stop. Maybe Callie and that guy

will grow old together and tell their kids how they met at a subway party.

But I bet you anything they'll just have sex tonight and he'll call her

"Kelly" in the morning.

I take photos of the energy in the car: the guy who's managed to get the

attention of the beautiful girl. Twins dancing together. The crushed beer

cans and water bottles. And the freaking life of it all. I put my phone in my

pocket, grab my bike, and wheel it through the doors between the cars—the

ones the overhead announcements are constantly reminding us are for

emergencies only. End Day or not, that announcement can suck it. The

tunnel's air is chill, and the train's wheels screeching and screaming on the

rails is a sound I won't miss. I enter the next car, but Mateo keeps staring at

the floor.

I sit beside him and am about to go off on him, to tell him how I didn't

take some older girl's invite to have sex on my last day to live ever because

I'm a good Last Friend, but it's pretty damn obvious he doesn't need that

guilt trip. "Yo, tell me more about these robots. The ones who are gonna

take everyone's jobs."

Mateo stops looking at the floor for a sec, turning to see if I'm toying

with him, and I'm clearly not, I'm mad chill on all this. He grins and

rambles so hard: "It's going to take a while because evolution is never fast,

but the robots are already here. You know that, right? There are robots that

can cook dinner for you and unload the dishwasher. You can teach them

secret handshakes, which is pretty mind-blowing, and they can solve a

Rubik's Cube. I even saw a clip of a break-dancing robot a couple months

ago. But don't you think these robots are one giant distraction while other

robots receive job training at some underground robot headquarters? I

mean, why pay someone twenty dollars an hour to give directions when our

phones already do that, or even better, when a robot can do it for you?

We're screwed." Mateo shuts up and is no longer grinning.

"Buzzkill, right?"

"Yeah," Mateo says.

"At least you won't have to ever worry about your boss firing you for a

robot," I say.

"That's a pretty dark bright side," Mateo says.

"Dude, today is one huge dark bright side. Why'd you bail on the party

car?"

"We have no business on that car," Mateo says. "What are we

celebrating, dying? I'm not trying to dance with strangers while on my way

to say goodbye to my dad and best friend, knowing damn well there's a

chance I may not even reach them. That's just not my scene, and those

aren't my people."

"It's just a party." The train stops. He doesn't respond. It's possible

Mateo not being a daredevil will keep us alive longer, but I'm not banking

on it being a memorable End Day.