I awoke to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes, indicating that there was a celebration in

my household. Wiping the morning grogginess from my eyes, I remembered that today was my
birthday. A grin spread across my face, and I made my way downstairs. Dad always told me
never to change out of my pajamas on the morning of my birthdays. Something about the
spontaneity of life. There was Dad for you.
Ever since my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer, it was Dad and I against the
world. Mom was still alive, but that didnt mean she was well. She was diagnosed four years
ago, and weve been visiting every day. For my past four birthdays it was our tradition to bring
my cake to the hospital and celebrate with Mom. It was morbid. I loved my mom endlessly, but
its difficult to try to celebrate life passing when theres a person in the room waiting for just that:
for time to pass.
Hi sweetheart! my dad beamed, Hows the special girl on this fine day?
Tired, but Ill survive. I winked at my dad, towering over a bowl of pancake mix. It
took me a minute to realize that there were a set of numbers hovering above his head: 13,514.
Hey dad? I received a grunt in return to show I had his attention, Why are there
numbers floating above your head? I regretted the words as soon as the came out of my mouth.
I sounded insane!
Go back to sleep, Aria. I think youre still dreaming, he said with a chuckle. Dad
probably saw the disbelief in my eyes because he inched closer.
Honey, are you feeling alright? You dont look so good.
I waved him off. Yeah, youre probably right. I think I just stood up too quickly. I no
longer wanted the infamous pancakes Id been craving for days.

Ari, were visiting Mom in thirty! Be ready, please.

I shouted over my shoulder what sounded like a cross between a moan and an okay. I
speed-walked up the steps and down the corridor leading to my room. What is going on? Why
were there numbers floating above my dads head? Why couldnt he see them, or feel them? I
made my way to my mirror and stood there while my jaw collided with the floor. There were the
numbers 26,664 sitting atop my head.
I backed up into my dresser and had to will myself to breathe. This isnt supposed to
happen on your fifteenth birthday, or is it? It couldnt be. I walked past my mirror until I gave up
on the possibility that the numbers were a hallucination. What did they mean?
Aria, lets go! Il be in the car!
Did thirty minutes go by that fast? I didnt have time to wonder; I tore through my
dressers to find a dress that my mom used to love seeing me in and bolted down the steps. Maybe
if I fell hard enough on my head the numbers would go away. I mean, I guess its possible, but
itd hurt, and I wasnt in the mood to be in the hospital alongside my mother on my birthday. I
headed out the front door and nestled into the front seat of our family station wagon.
We approached the front desk of the hospital; it was unusually busy today, which
prompted a nauseating headache. Numbers hovering above heads, as the people ambled about,
completely unaware of what I was witnessing. I stumbled around, my mind whirring at a pace
too fast for me to comprehend. When would I find out what these numbers meant? More
importantly, when would they go away?
I let out a sigh of relief as my dad and I entered the room where my cancerous mother
slept. As if on cue, her eyelids fluttered opened, the only indication that she was still alive. I

knew what to expect when I visited my mother, but I will never ignore or forget the sharpening
pain that gathers around my heart every time I see her.
Hi Mom, I said bleakly. I could feel my pulse ringing through my ears.
Hi princess! The dress, she pointed a weak finger at me, it looks beautiful. She
paused for a few moments, as if speaking those few words robbed her of breath. Whats
wrong? She sounded, and looked, more lethargic than usual today. Before I could lie to her, Dad
intervened.
Shes just feeling a little under the weather today, thats all.
Its not that I was feeling under the weather, or I was feeling sick, or dizzy, or tired. I
was dealing with something that no one had ever heard of. Even if I tried to explain why I could
see numbers floating over peoples heads, or why it had started in the first place, no one would
give me a chance. Id be branded as crazy, and best case scenario, I would be hauled to a rehab
center for troubled teens. I could almost hear the rumors flying through the halls of my high
school.
My mom snapped me out of my trance. She waved her hands in front of my face.
Honey, I have something for you.
She pulled out a necklace I knew all too well; it was the one shed promised me so many
years ago. The ruby pendant gleamed under the sterile lights, which even they didnt do justice. I
had completely forgotten that this necklace would one day be mine, and completely forgotten
how many days I had fantasized wearing it around my neck when I was younger.
I-I, Mom, I cant believe you remembered.

I never forgot. Here, take it. I love you, Aria, so much. Happy birthday, sweetie. I dont
know how I kept my composure, but my mom sure didnt keep hers. She was always a softy;
crying at childrens animated movies, or when the guy finally gets the girl years after their
adolescence. These tears were incredibly different. They oozed compassion, pride, and hope. I
wouldve started sobbing myself if something hadnt caught my eye. The numbers above her
head were lower than what Id seen in the lobby of the hospital, or on my dad. They were
extremely low actually, in the decimals. And they were counting down.
What happened next was a blur. Mom started gasping for air, and the heart monitor was
now fluctuating uncontrollably, as if measuring a powerful earthquake. There was someone
screaming for help in the background, my dad presumably, and my mom had started convulsing.
My hand shot to my mouth in horror. That was the last time I saw her in the tranquil state she had
been in moments before, and all her life; she was now shuddering violently. Strong arms pried
me away from my mother, my almost-dead mother. It all happened so quickly that I hadnt even
thanked her for the necklace, told her I loved her one last time. Or given protest when I was
dragged out of the room. Kicking and screaming, the grip on my body loosened and I ran back to
the room.
Aria! my dad called after me. I didnt turn back. I caught the doctors trying to
resuscitate my mother, the firm, final nod giving the indication that she was no longer by my
side. I also caught something sickening, so deeply sinister that I managed one final shriek before
my dad managed to get a hold of me again: the number 0 resting just above my mothers limp
head.

I opened my eyes and a gave out a sigh of relief when I realized I was in the comforts of
my room. My face felt tight and puffy from tears. I was clutching the ruby necklace in my
sweaty palm when everything came crashing back into memory. My mom having a seizure in the
bed that had been her home for the past four years, the nod of the doctor in baby blue scrubs, the
screams that escaped my throat, that now ached. I had to clutch my stomach as I ran to the
bathroom and wretched.
I pressed my back against the bathroom wall and cried. Cried, and cried, and cried, until I
was sure there was nothing left. How could someone youve known your entire life just be gone?
How can they dissipate into nothingness and never return? I shuddered uncontrollably, like my
mother; the images of the past few hours burned into memory. It took me at least an hour to even
out my breathing again. But even then, I knew it wouldnt last long. I clutched my stomach,
hoping it would slow the bile continuing to crawl up my throat. I almost, for an instant, forgot
about those numbers. Those fateful numbers that counted down to my mothers death, and the
ones that count down for everyone else.
Dad? Are you home? No response. Perfect. I dont think Id have the willpower to
leave while Dad was still home. I packed enough clothing to last for a month, within reason, and
two weeks worth of canned food. I didnt exactly have a destination in mind, all I knew was that
it didnt help anyone having me around, especially Dad. I dont know how long itd take for me
to lose it if I was reminded daily how many days we had left together. I could only imagine what
would happen when he realizes Im gone; losing the two people he loves more than his own
being all within the confines of one day. I would be to blame for half of that despair.

As I walk out the door, clutching the ruby necklace in my hand, I dont look back. I
convince myself that Im leaving to make things easier for Dad, but I know Im leaving to make
things easier for myself. I am a coward.
I ventured through the busy streets of California for two hours, wandering with a weight
on my shoulders, and not from my backpack. I settled at a Starbucks, hoping no one would
recognize me. No one should, I thought, because my hometown was long gone now. I chose a
window seat, though it wasnt the smartest decision. The numbers attached to heads, so many
heads, gave me another migraine. I bowed my head to gather myself, careful not to draw too
much attention. I focused on the rush of San Fransiscan traffic, as well as a trio occupying a
booth to the right of me. I didnt even notice that there were no numbers floating above there
skulls, but I did notice one of the occupants.
He had dirty blonde hair that hung effortlessly above his hazel eyes. His broad shoulders
were hunched over what looked like a cup of hot chocolate, despite the record-breaking heat. He
seemed uninterested with the conversation that took place around him, between another girl and
boy. By the time he felt my gaze, I had already averted my eyes back to the traffic beyond the
windows. I knew well enough, from experience, when to stop staring a boy. I was so caught up in
his image that I noticed a familiar countdown. The countdown that meant only one thing.
It hovered above a girl no more than eight years old. She was holding the hand of her, I
assume, father, and a wave of panic overcame me. I pushed through the doors of the Starbucks,
so much for my nonchalantness, and propelled myself forward through the rush hour crowd. It
was a nightmare. So many bodies in the way of my destination, and many of them were
completely oblivious as to what was going to happen in about two minutes. If only they knew,

theyd part the crowd like Moses parted the Red Sea. I finally made it to the crosswalk where I
had seen them last, and the girl and her father were nowhere to be seen.
I became desperate. I spun in circles trying to locate the little girl, when I locked eyes
with her small body. She was grasping a balloon, and I watched it escape her hold. She raced
after it, unaware of the traffic that would soon end her life.
Sarah! Where are you going? her father screamed. Sarah! Honey, come back!
Too late. The girl, Sarah, was engrossed in trying to capture her balloon that she didnt
even have a chance to see the car that struck her. Her body flew about a dozen feet, and the
crowd yelled out a cry in unison. Parts of Sarahs body were twisted unnaturally, and there was a
slight trickle blood coming out of her mouth. I didnt even have to look at the number resting on
her body to know what it was.
Her father raced to her side, as did other admirable civilians. Many were on their cell
phones, no doubt calling an ambulance that would do Sarah no justice. I stood frozen in the
crowd, not knowing what to do next. Do I run to Sarahs dead body, wallowing in my crushed
hopes of saving her? Do I flee the scene and continue witnessing death wherever I travelled to? I
honestly thought I could save her; I was wrong. Her fate rang more powerful than my ability to
predict what wouldve happened less than five minute ago.
I felt a steady tear stream down my face. The crowd was a mass panic now. The
ambulance arrived, as well as police officers, and many stood by to watch what would happen
next. What would happen next? A firm hand gripped my forearm and I was whisked away from
the crowd. I turned to see none other than the boy with hazel eyes, as well as the girl and boy
with him.