The First to Die at the End

by Adam Silvera

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to dance again,” he says after a couple passengers groan as if their entire afternoons will be ruined by another interruption. “But we’ve got a really special show for you. This is Valentino Prince, and he’s not only a Decker, but he’s the very first Decker—he got his call from Joaquin Rosa!” For the first time, everyone’s paying attention. No one is on the phone or reading a book or talking among themselves. Death makes people pay attention that way. All eyes are on me. Orion’s too. “Valentino moved to New York to be a model, but since today is his End Day, I’d love it if we could hype up Valentino as he turns this train into his first and only runway. Can we give it up for him?” There’s instant applause, like I’m a household name everyone has been waiting to see. Orion presses Play on the song. All my nerves get stomped flat with my first step, and I walk my imaginary line, one leg over the other like an acrobat on a tightrope; one misstep and you can die. My arms swing and hips sway naturally as I lean back, my chest puffed out and my head held high. I stare straight ahead as the music follows me thanks to Orion. Passengers are cheering me on and taking pictures on their phones, maybe even recording. I can’t let that break my focus. Every model should have an objective, something they’re selling to those who are watching. For me, it’s making your dreams come true by any means necessary. At the end of the car, I throw open my overshirt and sli...