His number is green. 5 years, 11 months, 2 weeks, 1 day, 3 hours, 23 minutes, 8 seconds.

“Hey. I was talking to you. What’s your name?” he asks again. I look up at his face closer, studying the details. He has short, dark brown hair and a wide, straight-toothed smile. He is at least seven inches taller than me, and is the strongest-looking guy I’ve seen in person. His eyes are a handsome stain of hazel, with different shades of green, gray, and brown splattered through out.

“Anya,” I reply. And I smile back.

“I’m Daniel,” he says. “What grade are you in?”

“I’m a junior. Do you have your schedule yet? Too bad you’re here in October; all the good classes are gone,” I sympathize I realize how flirty that sounded, and I hope I’m not turning red.

“Yeah, I got it this morning. I need to re-schedule though. I already took Algebra 2, World History, and French 3. Your dad’s name is Joseph Bishop, right? I have him for sixth hour.”

“Yeah, he teaches at the high school. I doubt that you’ve taken wood and metal shop before,” I tease. Daniel laughs and I hand him his schedule back. “How did your family end up moving to Bethani?”

“I don’t know. Apparently my mom can get a teaching job here, but no offense, Bethani seems a little small for decent income.” he tells me. Especially when you have seven kids.

“What do you like to do?” I interrogate. Dang, I’m so embarrassingly flirty today.

“I like to hunt. We hunted all the time in Michigan,” Daniel says. “Joshua and I always-”

“Daniel! Daniel! Joseph made us crepes!” a little kid shouts, running in and climbing on top for a couple of moving boxes to get on eye-level. Another girl runs in and climbs up some boxes, too. A third, younger, girl bounds in shouting even louder than the first boy.

“I know, Aaron, I saw him bring them in. But shouldn’t you say Mr. Bishop?”

“He said to call him Joseph,” the older girl replies. Daniel glances up questioningly at me.

“Yeah, he even tells his students to call him Joseph,” I explain.

“Mommy says it’s time for dinner,” the youngest girl announces.

*

*

*


“I told you that it was a good idea to go and see the new family,” Dad says to me. He had my Algebra 2 homework, and was flying through the problems. We are in my room, on the floor, as normal. I have the lights off, but the metal lamp Dad made is on.

“Whatever,” I say, smiling all the same. “I only went so you would do my math homework.”

“What did you think of Daniel? Pretty good-looking, right?” Dad peeks up at me, seriously.

“What did you think of Mary? Single mom, alone with seven kids. She is pretty gorgeous.” Dad restrains a smile and shuts my math book with a thud.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies.

“Maybe you don’t remember all of your dreams,” I banter.

“Subject change! Mercy! Mercy!” Dad cries, poking me in the ribs. I flinch and squeal. “Did you get all of their names? You need to know a man’s siblings before you marry him.”

“Mary is the mom. Ruth is the oldest, then Ester, and Daniel. Random names after that.”

“That’s as far as you got? Shameful. After Daniel, it’s Joshua, Sarah, Aaron, and Rachel,” Dad lists, showing off. I think back to their numbers. They are all a safe shade of deep purple, except Daniel and Joshua. Joshua has a green number as well; 8.4.1.6.13.4.58. It is another reminder of the phantom war I am expecting in five years (give or take). A war is the only thing I can think of that would cause the majority of the male population to die between the ages of 19 and 26.

Dad stands up and gives my bedpost a shake. He does that everyday to reassure himself that his building is good enough. When he is satisfied, he walks to the door. The slightly indigo number on his chest illuminates the dark hallway.

“Goodnight, Anya. I love you. I need to be at the school early tomorrow, so you can finish your homework then, okay?”

“Alright,” I agree, standing and packing up my stuff. But Dad didn’t leave. “I love you, too,” I remember to add, and he leaves. I go to my bathroom and stare at my reflection. My face and arms are still deep tan from the summer soccer team and swimming with Dad. My dark, wavy, brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail like normal, By the looks of it, I still haven’t grown an inch since eighth grade. I hope to see my own number, but it’s never there. No matter how hard I try, I will never know when I will die.

*

*

*


“So there was some interesting gossip as the teacher’s lounge today,” Dad announces. We are at the only bakery in Bethani. We have open-campus lunch, so Dad took me and Daniel here.

“Really?” I ask, knowing full well what’s coming.

“Yes. It turns out that someone has broken through barricade around my little girl,” he says, smiling. It takes a second, but Daniel gets the metaphor and smiles, white teeth and all.

“I put up a good a fight, but those boys are just too…too…” I stammer, losing my train of thought.

“Attractive?” Daniel suggests. I swing a playful punch on his shoulder.

“No!” But I can’t help laughing.

“I think that the aforementioned girl was the attractive one; the boy was desperate,” Dad teases. Daniel gets red in the face and keeps laughing, his eyes glittering with happiness. When he calms down and leans back, his green countdown comes back into view, ending the wonderful moment. 5.11.2.0.6.12.45.

*

*

*



“No, no, no. You aren’t doing it right, Anya. You have to stick your elbow behind your head,” Daniel instructs. I blow my hair out of my face and try again. We are in Daniel and Joshua’s room (a.k.a. the basement) and he is attempting to teach me archery with tip-less arrows. It’s still snowing heavy outside, so we’re giving it a go down here. I notch another arrow and check the fletchings. Suddenly, Daniel is behind me. He puts his hands on mine, gently pulling the arrow back with my hand. His chest is against my back; my head just under his chin. I force myself to breathe out. I feel ridiculous. We’ve been at each other’s houses everyday since he moved here. I should be getting over the fact he’s so good-looking.

“Steady,” he mutters, fixing my aim. He let go and I release the arrow. It hit in the third ring of the second color. Daniel whistles. “You actually hit the target this time,” he taunts, but he offers a high-five anyway.

“Daniel! Anya!” Joshua calls from upstairs. “Stop making out so I can come and get my snow stuff!”

“We aren’t making out, idiot. Get down here so I drill your head into the cement wall,” Daniel threatens.
Joshua runs down the stairs, past Daniel to his drawer. Daniel chases after him, but Joshua bolts back upstairs again, as fast as he could.

“If you want to kill me, just come out for the snowball fight!” Joshua badgers. Daniel cocks an eyebrow and glances sideways at me.

“Do you want to go, Anya?”


*

*

*


His number is red, like those who will die in just a few weeks. My heart jumps and I feel like the world is closing to just me and the sidewalk to Daniel. Maybe you can stop it. But I know I can’t. You’ve never tried. I’ve never had to. There’s always a first time. What if I fail? You can’t let yourself fail. Can you change fate?

Daniel is walking toward me, and nothing seems different about him, exactly. I don’t understand. What’s caused his timer to jump?

“Hey, Anya,” Daniel greets, wide smile as always. He is close enough now, so I can read his new number.

“Hey, Daniel.” I try to act natural. But the outlook isn’t good. 0.0.1.4.14.2.35. One week and four days. That’s all the time I get to be with him. It’s not enough.

“How are you doing?” I pry, searching clues to explain why he’s going to die so soon.

“Fine. A little chilly. You?” Daniel seems happier than normal, if anything. So he’s not depressed and going to commit suicide. I check that off the mental list of possibilities.

“I’m good. I finally finished that WWII project Gibson gave us last night.”

“Nice. Where are you in the essay for Davys?”

“I haven’t even opened the book yet,” I reply honestly.

“Anya, I was wondering…” Daniel stops, as if reconsidering his words.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Do you want to go to the Christmas dance with me?” Okay, not what I expected. Daniel is red in the face (unless he’s just cold from being out in the snow and wind) and clearly embarrassed. I can’t think of why at the moment. I’m too absorbed in the fact that Daniel- my Daniel - is going to leave me in 11 days.

“Of course.” I need to change Fate’s mind.


*

*

*


“Dad, do you think about Mom and Sam a lot?” Dad takes a breath and keeps scouring The Adventure of Huckleberry Finn for quotes to write my essay. To get Dad to write it, I had to make dinner, and I have to make lunch and breakfast tomorrow.

“Why do you ask?” Because death is the only thing on my mind.

“I don’t know.” Dad raises an eyebrow, not believing me. He types some lines up on the laptop. My essay is coming along pretty good.

“All the time, I guess,” Dad says, and he sets the book down. Good riddance. “A lot of the seniors at school make me think about how Sam should be in metal shop with them. When I look at you I think of both.”

“Then I’ll hide my face away, so that you don’t have to remember,” I say, grabbing a pillow and blocking my face from view.

“No, I like to remember,” he says, pulling the pillow away and throwing across the room.

“Dad. Do you ever wish that you could have saved them?” I ask.

“I sure would have liked to spend more time with them. I wish that you could have had more time with your Mom.” He’s avoiding the question.

“But do you wish that they didn’t die at all?”

“Of course. But…” he sighs. “The timing in death is always so inconvenient. But is it… right to stop someone from dying when they aren’t supposed to live any longer?”

*

*

*



The dance is the day after Daniel will hit zero. I don’t even get to go the dance with him. I’ve already got a plan to evade Fate’s horrible plan. I don’t think that it was in Fate’s plan to have a lunatic teenaged girl that can know when people will die. If Fate expected me to do something about it, then I’ll fail. But his number hasn’t gone back, not even when we arranged for him to be at my house until past 10:14, when he’ll get to zero.


*

*

*

His number is gone. He’ll die today. I’ve tried all week to get it to go back. Nothing works. I’m not letting him out of my sight today.

At least he’s made it all the way from his house to our rock without getting shot.

“Hey, Anya,” he says, and he wraps his arms around me. I return the hug and try to keep my head on my shoulders. I can feel the dam in my tear ducts willing to give out from the stress building up behind them.

“Hiya, Daniel.” Dang it. My voice cracked. There’s one thing I’ve decided I’m not going to do, and that’s letting him know that I’m worried about him. If Daniel knew…what if that’s what would trigger his death? But what if it’s what saves him?

“Is something wrong?” he asks, with so much concern for me behind his voice and eyes, it makes me want to break down and tell him. Tell him about everything. But I can’t.

“No,” I respond. “You should see the bow Dad is making me. He’s working on a wooden one, for you, but this one is metal. He says it might be ready next week.”

“Really? That’s awesome. Compound or recurve?”

“Compound.”

“Sweet. Can I see it when I come over tonight?”

“We’ll see,” I say. But I’m thinking ‘No’. There is no way Daniel is getting anywhere near a weapon. Fate would have it too easy if I handed Daniel over on a silver platter.

*

*

*

We are in Chemistry when I realize what Fate has been planning all along. I have to congratulate Fate on this one. I hadn’t even taken this into consideration.

“Attention students going to the Christmas Dance. Sorry to have to let you know on such short notice, but the dance has been moved to tonight instead of tomorrow.”

I guess I’ll be going to that dance with Daniel after all.

*

*

*

To be honest, I actually hadn’t planned to be going to the dance, so I didn’t have a new dress. I could care less about a new dress tonight, though.

I am wearing the black and white dress with the floor length skirt and little sleeves. I curled my hair until I looked like Hermione Granger and pulled it up in a simple ponytail with my bangs loose.

I give myself one last look in the mirror. I want so badly to see my own number on my chest, but it’s still not there. If I knew I was dying tonight, that might not be as bad as it is now.

“Anya! Daniel is here!” What? I told Daniel I’d meet him at the rock and we could walk. I wipe the confused look off my face and go to the door. Dad and Daniel are there, and Dad brought out the bow.

Daniel looks…hot. He is wearing a black dress shirt and a black and blue tie. His eyes are as clear and crystalline as ever.

“Hey, Anya.”

“I thought we were going to meet at the rock,” I say, keeping the tone at surprised and not accusing.

He smiles a wicked, mischievous smile, “I know, but I convinced my mom to let me take the car.”


“The car?”

“Yes, Anya. A car. It’s what normal people use to get from one place to another. Most people in Bethani seem to have forgotten that they were invented,” he jokes. We laugh, even Dad.

“Okay, the teenage hormones are too much for me. Get out of here before I faint,” Dad teases. We leave and sure enough, in the driveway there is a black Toyota Camry.

“Nice car,” I say.

“I can’t tell if you were mocking me, or complimenting me.”

“I can’t tell, either,” I admit. The school isn’t far enough away to drive, at least not in my opinion. It only takes five minutes to get there in the car, but in a car you have to stay on the roads. No short cuts.

I’m trying to figure out if Fate needs the car to kill Daniel. Maybe if I can get Ester or Ruth to claim they need the car on the way back then Daniel will be fine. But what if that puts them in danger? Maybe if it’s them and not Daniel , then it won’t kill them.

“Anya, are you sure you’re alright? You seem kinda… out of it, I guess.” I look up and Daniel. The worried look on his face snaps me back to reality. I can’t be the one to ruin the mood of our night.

“Of course I’m alright. I’m with you,” I answer honestly. Cheesy? Yes. True? Yes.

“Do you know this song?” He’s trying to change the subject. It was a swing song from the thirties.

“Bethani School Dances 101: our dances are really old-fashioned. We get a lot of jazz, old swing songs, and slow dances. Normal music comes on somewhere in the middle,” I tell him. He laughs and looks at the DJ.

“Mr. Zephaniah? He’s ancient. He was probably fifty when this song was popular!”

“Actually, you are probably right.”

“How do you dance to this?”

“Was that sarcastic?”

“No.” I smile, and grab Daniel’s hands.

“Like this.”


*

*

*

I am so tired by now, that I’m glad it’s the last song. But at the same time, I don’t want it to end. It’s 10:05. I have nine minutes, assuming I calculated it right. I don’t know how I’m handling this so well. At least, I think that I’m handling this well.

“It’s the last song. Do you want to go dance?” I ask Daniel. We were resting from the swing song a few minutes ago, sitting on the floor against the wall. Mr. Z is ending with A Whole New World from Aladdin.

“Sure.” He stands up and offers me a hand. It’s a slow song, so Daniel has one had on my waist. It is perfect; just the way I want the dance to end. But not the way I want his life to end. I am only looking at his eyes, the majestic painting of greens, grays, and browns. I don’t want the song to end.

It’s 10:09 when the song is over. I automatically snap in adrenaline mode, and my brain I swirling like a hurricane. How can I stop this? How can I stop this? I wonder if stalling at the school would do it. The school should be safe. The roads- probably not. I see a group of kids with alcohol. I realize what Fate has intended, this whole time. Maybe, what Fate intended.

“Anya, what are you looking at?” Daniel asks. He follows my gaze. “Let’s go before it’s gets really busy.”

“Good thinking.” I look up at the clock. 10:11. We hurry out to the parking lot. It’s snowing again; thick, heavy, flakes. The cars are under a thin layer of snow. I consider offering to drive, but what if Fate expected me to do that? I scrape my foot on the asphalt to check for ice. My foot glides smoothly, and of course, there is.

“That was pretty fun. I like the dances here a lot better than the ones in Michigan,” Daniel says. He turns on the windshield wipers and waits to pull out. No one had stuck around for long, so there is traffic already.

“Really? You even liked the swing songs?”

“They were very tiring, but I liked them.” Daniel pulls out .So far so good. The clock on the dashboard says 10:12. We were stuck behind another car for now. I was sitting up straight as a 2x4, unable to relax.

“I liked the ragtime songs too. I’ve never even heard that music before, but it was cool.”

“I hope you know that we still listen to normal music here,” I say, joking. I’m not in it, though. I’m watching every car. Any move could be the one. The clock says 10:13.

“In Bethani? No way. Well, maybe the teenagers. But that’s it. In my school in Michigan, Journey was old music. ‘Just a small-town girl,’” Daniel started to sing.

“‘Livin’ in a lonely world,’” I add in. “‘She took the midnight train going any-where.’”

The car traffic in front of us finally began to move faster. We were driving toward the intersection between the student parking lot and the parent parking lot when I saw one of the many trucks speeding toward intersection.

I look at the clock. 10:14. My mind is reeling. What do I do? My instinct is to yell stop. But Fate probably wants me to go with my instincts. So I should say nothing. Since I know this is happening, maybe Fate is expecting me to think about that and go against my instincts. So then I should stay stop. Fate could expect me to think all this through, in which case I should. Oh, the Battle of the Wits has begun.

“Stop!” Daniel slams on the breaks, surprised. The truck speeds in front of us.

For a split-second, I think that I did it. But we are slipping on the ice. The bed of the truck slips, and swings towards us.

And hits us. More correctly: hits Daniel.

*

*

*


“Anya.” Dad’s voice seems far-off, like it belonged in a different dimension. Or like I wasn’t supposed to hear it. Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was supposed to die with Daniel. I would be happier, wouldn’t I? But then I think of Dad, who has already lost Jo J. and Mom.

“Is he alive?” I ask, still holding on to the glimmer of hope that had been blackened earlier.

“No. How did you know?” Dad asks. I sigh and open my eyes. We’re in my room, not the hospital, which is a relief. The last thing I want is more attention than I’m already doomed to get. We’re on the floor as normal and Dad is holding me like a two-year-old. But my head hurts too much to act my age.

“I saw it coming.” I’m still not ready to tell Dad. I’m afraid that if I tell anyone, anyone at all, even Dad, that I’ll become a gypsy telling fortunes, only mine will come true. I want to tell him.

“The truck?”

“Yeah.” It was here that I finally broke down. I cried. I decided I wanted to tell Dad. But I can’t do it now, not today.

“What time is it?” I finally say, sounding like a gagged duck.

“It’s about five in the afternoon, on Saturday,” he replies. “You were knocked unconscious. We thought you were dead too, but I knew my girl was stronger than that. The pain meds have kept you asleep all day.”

“I love you, Dad,” I whisper, coughing into his chest. But all I see is that blueing purple number and it makes me angry. But I don’t know who I’m angry at. There’s no one to blame for my curse. There needs to be, or else I’ll go insane.

“I love you, Anya. You loved Daniel, too.” I knew that I did, but Dad saying it just made me realize how much. I couldn’t understand how he could be…gone. How can something so good just disappear?

“Do you want something to eat? I can make some potato chowder soup.”

“Sure.” Dad lifts me out of his lap and grabs a blanket from my unmade bed. He kisses my forehead and leaves for the kitchen. Sitting on the floor, just staring at the wall made me feel to empty, like a bullet shell cast aside. I stand up and decide to change my clothes first, just to start moving. I find the orange shirt Daniel had let me borrow when I had gotten stuff all over myself in chemistry. I go to my bathroom to wash face. I stare at my reflection.

A green number looks back at me, slightly off my chest.

5 years, 3 months, 1 week, 4 days, 16 hours, 34 minutes, and 2 seconds.