Paz
9:21 p.m.
I never thought I would ever get the chance to tell the Death-Cast creator he ruined my life.
Joaquin wants to run his mouth about us using our voices to clear the air, but guess-fucking-what, the truth has never gotten
me anywhere with the world before, but it’s about damn time that the man responsible for everything horrible finally hears
my side of the story.
“Sit down, ito,” Mom says.
I’m standing over Joaquin like I’m about to get aggressive. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kick his ass,” I tell Mom.
“Good. There is no need for bodyguards,” Joaquin says as he relaxes back in the dining chair. “I am glad to see you showing
restraint.”
I’m telling the truth when I say I won’t hit Joaquin because any punch I throw is another step toward becoming Dad, but wow,
his attitude is trying to make a violent liar out of me. “Don’t get me wrong, Joaquin, you definitely deserve an ass-kicking
after your life-ruining fuckup, but I already gotta go to my grave with shame for almost punching Alano. You’re not worth
the extra guilt.”
It’s pretty clear that no one stopping me as I tell off this grown-ass man is proof that I get to feel all these feelings.
“I had a bright future before the first End Day,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’ve only ever had one dream and that was to
be an actor, and I busted my ass trying to make that happen. And just like that”—I clap my hands so hard my palms sting and
everyone gets startled—“it was gone. I lost my dad and my dream in one moment. Yeah, I killed my dad, and I would do it again
in a motherfucking heartbeat to save my mom, but you killed my dream and you destroyed my life.” I rub my fists into my eyes, clearing the tears. “And instead of ever getting an apology, you roll up
in here treating me like I’m some criminal even though my shitty life is all your fault.”
Joaquin holds up a finger. “We did reach out to apologize on...”
“August 15, 2010,” Alano says.
“On August 15, 2010, but your mother said no.”
Mom wipes her tears. “Your apology was not going to give him back his childhood.”
“Well, for the record, I am sorry—”
I interrupt Joaquin. “I get that you don’t give a shit about me, but imagine Alano being the only nine-year-old getting patted
down for weapons when he went to school.”
“That is horrible,” Joaquin says. “I am sorry—”
“I got bullied by students and their parents. Switching schools didn’t help. Rolando had to homeschool me. College was never
in the picture.”
“You should not have been treated that way. I am sorry—”
“Then Grim Missed Calls blew up my life all over again.”
“We tried stopping production but failed. I am sorry—”
“My life got so bad that I tried killing myself!” I shout, red in the face. I gotta calm down, I gotta calm down, I gotta
calm down. I can’t lose control. I should go hold ice until it burns or do jumping jacks even though it’ll hurt the foot I
cut open. I bite down on my lip before I can tell Joaquin all the horrible ways I’ve self-harmed because I don’t want Mom
and Rolando knowing.
Joaquin rises and looks me in the eye. “I am sorry, .”
“I don’t need an apology anymore! The damage is done. I need to know why.”
“Why? Why what?”
Alano taught me to get the facts. I’m gonna do that.
“What happened on the first End Day that my dad never received his alert?”
My family is quiet while Naya is breathing heavily and Alano is crying, and I hope I’m not triggering him as I go off on his
dad, but there’s no way that Alano and I would be in each other’s lives for years to come without me and Joaquin having this
showdown.
“That is private information,” Joaquin says.
“Is that code for you getting drunk and blacking out?” I ask.
Joaquin has been sobering up, but I still smell the alcohol on his breath as he says, “The blackouts began years later, if
you must know.”
“Yeah, I must fucking know because that night ruined my life. What really happened?”
“A system error,” Joaquin says.
“People died and lives got ruined because of a system error?”
“Unfortunately yes, but I put in protections to make sure it never happens again.”
“That doesn’t do shit for me,” I say, turning away from Joaquin before my rage takes over.
My heart is pounding fast.
I gotta calm down, I gotta calm down, I gotta calm down.
My life got ruined over some bullshit system error? This is not like when my camera’s memory card failed to store my self-tape
or when my audition sides got jammed in the printer, this is Death-Cast we’re talking about. Lives and deaths are actually
on the line here.
But, hey, it’s never gonna happen again!
I’m dizzy, and my chest is tight. I gotta sit; I gotta get it together.
“Take a deep breath,” Alano says. He blinks, and a tear slides out of the corner of his green eye. He holds my hands between
his as if he knows I’m trying so hard to not attack his dad, which I really, really, really am because that’s not me. Alano
takes the deep breath with me and ends by saying, “You’re okay.”
I am okay.
My heart is slowing down.
I let out one last big breath.
“I’m not a Death Guarder, but I’ve hated Death-Cast for a long time,” I say, staring up at Joaquin as Alano keeps holding my hands. “And I have every right to hate Death-Cast, and I have every right to hate you, but I don’t have it out for Alano like that asshole assassin whose life you also ruined. Everything sucks, but Alano has been coaching me to keep trying anyway. My life won’t get better if I quit and Alano has shown me I got a lot to live for.”
Rain falls in the forest of Alano’s eyes. “ So much to live for,” he says softly.
I’m up against a world that doesn’t know me but hates me anyway, but I’m gonna keep fighting until my life looks like my dream
obituary. But if I fail at getting cast in a mega-hit franchise or winning an Oscar or receiving a star on the Hollywood Walk
of Fame, this life is still worth living because of Alano Rosa.
And one day—one day really fucking soon—I can’t wait to tell Alano how much I love him.