Chapter 1

Dad frowned at me. “Iris is sick. What are you so happy about?”

I didn't know what to say.

I tucked the test paper behind my back and bit my lip.

Mom's eyes were red, as if she'd been crying.

“The doctor said Iris fainted from anemia, mainly due to prolonged low mood and malnutrition.”

Her voice was like a needle, jabbing at my chest with every word.

“Don't you know… don't you know what her life is like at home?”

I knew.

When I sneezed, Mom would sit by my bed all night.

When I caught a cold and lost my appetite, Dad would take time off work and stand in line for three hours to buy me the most expensive little cake in the city.

Then Mom would rub her back in the morning and sigh, “I'm so tired, but it's okay. Mommy loves you the most.”

Dad would look at his paycheck and groan, “There goes my attendance bonus. I'll just have to pick up extra shifts next month.”

When I told them I didn't really want the cake, Dad said, “I work this hard for you and you don't even appreciate it. We've spoiled you rotten.”

When I tried to share it with Iris, Mom would say, “Elena isn't feeling well. Let her have it, okay?”

And Iris would nod and step quietly aside, watching me with those wide, innocent eyes.

“Elena, hope you get well soon.”

But that wasn't really how it was.

I blinked. “After my twelfth birthday, everything will be fine.”

Mom's frown deepened.

“Elena, you're the one who'll be fine after twelve. Iris is sick because you take everything for yourself.”

When I was little, the most respected fortune-teller in Grandma's village had told my parents that all of my illnesses would disappear after my twelfth birthday.

They loved me too much, and even knowing that, they couldn't help giving me the best of everything.

Was it my fault that Iris was sick?

I looked at Dad, begging him with my eyes, but he just shook his head, disappointed.

“Elena, she's let you have your way her whole life. She never fought you for anything. And now she's in the hospital, and you can't even pretend to care?”

I did care.

Every time I saw her unhappy, I'd sneak her my candy and my dolls.

All of it, every single piece.

Even my favorite doll went to her.

Sometimes she'd get angry and throw them away, but if I picked them up enough times, she'd cheer up again.

I loved her so much.

When she was born, she was a tiny, fragile thing, like a starving kitten.

I touched her cheek and she smiled at me, and something inside me melted.

Dad had stood outside the hospital room, head down, dragging on a cigarette. “Doesn't look like she'll make it.”

Mom held her on the bed and sobbed.

“It's my fault. I didn't protect her.”

And then a voice spoke to me.

“Are you willing to trade lives with Iris? She's dying. But if you say yes, she'll grow up healthy. The cost is your own lifespan, and you can't tell anyone.”

I looked up at my parents' grief, dazed. Then let it be me, I thought.

I was the elder sister, and I was supposed to protect her.

So how could anything bad happen to her now?

I clenched my fists. “She's healthy. After my birthday—”

“Healthy? She's lying in a hospital bed, Elena. Can't you see how much she's suffering?”

Mom snapped.

I stared up at her, blinking hard, my nose stinging and my eyes filling with tears.

She looked surprised, and her hand started to reach for me. Then Dad stepped between us.

“Lily, we've spoiled her. We really have.”

“If we don't teach her a lesson, she's going to turn into a bad kid.”

I shook my head. “I won't! I promise.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the storage room.

“You're almost better now. It's time you learned to be a good kid. Today you're going to think about what you did wrong.”

Mom looked like she wanted to stop him, but she didn't say a word.

Slam.

Before I could react, the door had shut behind me.

A chime sounded in my head.

[Erasure countdown initiated. Physical functions are beginning to deteriorate. You will be erased completely in twenty-four hours.]

How could I not care about Iris?

Only I knew that we were only ever going to have twelve years together.

The year I made that trade, the system had told me that the day I turned twelve, I would die.

Tomorrow was my last birthday, and I'd wanted us all to spend it together, smiling.

There was a small cot in the storage room.

But I curled up on the floor instead, my arms around my knees.

I only had one day left, and I didn't want to waste it sleeping.