Chapter 7

I gave him a faint smile and said softly, "I know."

"Thank you, but it's okay. I'm beyond curing. Besides... no one cares anyway..."

Seeing the slightly dejected look on the girl's face, Noah blurted out,

"I care!"

Noticing my surprised expression, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Besides, you haven't even tried treatment! How do you know it won't work? You can't just refuse treatment out of fear—"

"It's not fear," I said. "I already died once from this. I know exactly how it goes."

Noah went still. "What do you mean, died once?"

I realized what I'd said. The system pinged a warning in my head.

"Never mind. Forget it."

"Emily—"

"Drop it, Noah."

He dropped it. But from that day on, he started showing up everywhere.

At lunch, there'd be a warm bento box on my desk with a sticky note: "Eat or I'll tell everyone you cried when the nurse took your blood."

After school, he'd be leaning against the gate, pretending to scroll his phone, waiting to walk me to the bus stop.

During P.E., when I sat on the sidelines because even standing made me dizzy, he'd skip class and sit beside me.

"You're going to fail P.E.," I told him.

"Already failing. Might as well fail with company."

Sophia noticed.

"Emily, you and Noah Miller seem close lately." Her voice was sweet, curious—a performance perfected over sixteen years. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"No."

"Oh good. Because, you know, with your... situation... it might not be fair to him."

I looked at her.

In another life, this was the kind of comment that would have made the original Emily crawl into bed and cry herself to sleep.

"Sophia," I said evenly. "What situation would that be?"

Her smile faltered. Just a flicker.

"I just mean... you know. Being new. Adjusting. It must be hard."

"You're right. It is hard. Especially when someone's been telling the entire school that I'm a charity case who doesn't belong here."

The hallway went quiet.

Sophia's mask cracked—just for a second—before snapping back into place. "I would never say that. Emily, you're my sister—"

"No. I'm not."

I walked away.

Behind me, I heard Sophia's voice, higher now, trembling with practiced tears: "Damien... did you hear what she said to me?"

I didn't turn around.

Let her cry. Let them comfort her. Let the whole circus continue.

I had maybe four months left. I wasn't going to spend them performing.