Alive If

Chapter 4

"So, what's your name? And how old are you, dear? Does your mom know you're here?" Mom's voice is friendly, but the interrogation vibe is strong. Meanwhile, I'm silently melting into my chair, pretending this rice is the most fascinating thing on Earth.

"My name is Chrysanthemum, and I'm nine and a half." Santhy sips her water, calm as ever. "My mom was supposed to pick me up from school, but I wanted to ride a jeepney like the other kids. I got lost." She takes another sip.

Santhy eats a spoonful. "This is delicious. I can't believe your fried rice still tastes the same."

"Still?" Mom asks, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. My fork slips from my fingers and clinks onto the plate. I laugh too loud.

"Ehem. It's because I made her eat the leftovers from the canteen." I cough, praying that mom doesn't press any further. I try signaling Santhy to go along with it.

"Have you contacted your parents?" Mom asks, making me glad that it went over her head.

"Yeah. Fie helped me, but they're in Japan right now—business trip." She says it smoothly, but her fingers tap-tap-tap the glass, like a clock she's trying to ignore.

They won't be back for a while. Right, Fie?" She smiles at me faintly, waiting for me to agree. I gulp.

Mom frowns. "Japan? What kind of parents leave their child behind in a different country? And expect strangers to—" She slams her palm lightly on the table. I take a long sip of water. Is it getting hot in here? My mouth is getting dry. Why do I feel guilty all of a sudden?

"Fie isn't a stranger," Santhy answers a beat too quickly, giving me a knowing look. "She babysits me sometimes when my parents are away. They trust her. We don't have family here, so they gave her instructions."

Mom raises her eyebrow, tapping her nails against the table, staring until I fill in the blanks.

"Santhy's a friend of a friend's niece—well, not friend, but a coworker. Or maybe a neighbor?" I am screaming internally. I panicked, okay? Internally screaming. Geez.

Both their heads snap toward me. Santhy clutches her pendant as I forget to breate, spoon mid-air. "So... she's gonna stay here for a bit," I say, then shove rice into my mouth like I'm on a food show.

Mom narrows her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

Abort. Change topic. My heartbeat is racing like I'm running a marathon.

"Your real name's Chrysanthemum? Like the funeral flower? That's... cool. Why'd they name you that?" I divert, swallowing my food fast, hurting my esophagus a bit.

"Yeah, but my dad calls me Santhy. He's really into plants. My uncle said 'chrysanthemum' means 'mum's flower.' Both of my parents are scientists," she says, with a chuckle that doesn't reach her eyes.

"Honey," Mom starts, then pauses. "You look just like Fie when she was your age—"

I choke. A geyser of water erupts from my mouth.

Mom just sighs. "You can stay, sweetheart. But I still want to talk to your parents when they're back, alright?" She pats Santhy's head, who nods politely.

"And you—" Mom turns to me, eyebrow raised like a dagger. "Next time, tell me first. Not after."

"Yes, ma'am." I wipe my mouth.

As usual, Mom offers her bed when she's not staying the night.

Later, she mutters, "Those parents are going to get an earful."

I smile nervously. If only you knew.

...

After cleaning up, she announces she's heading out for a few more days. While she's packing, I call Santhy into my room.

"We need to talk." I sit on my bed, staring her down. "I believe you. But I don't know if I can trust you."

She nods slowly, her eyes serious. "In your first year of college... you'll meet five guys that will shape your fate. Three of which are in your life until your final day."

Final day. My throat tightens. I need to sit down, my head is hurting from the overload.

"One of them is your killer, Mom. He can see me."
I freeze. The room feels colder.

"Then tell me who they are," I say. "Just give me the names. I'll stay away. I won't die." I get on my knees to beg.

"I don't know what they look like now," Santhy says softly. "I was in the room when you died, but I was too young. I just remember the screaming... and then silence."

"You're saying I'll die... and I'm not allowed to know why?" I sit back, I feel light headed.

"If I tell you too much, I might erase my own existence." Her voice shakes. My heart can't handle the burden of her knowing my future.

"You're just a kid. You shouldn't... have to know this." I choke, can't help crying a bit.

"I don't want to live in reality without you. That's why I'm here. Please... don't die again." She reaches out, wipes my tears, squishing my cheeks with her tiny hands.

"I promise." I mumble through mashed-up lips.

"Good." She lets go and walks off with the comforter.

I sit frozen, dread pooling in my chest.

I forgot to ask about her dad.

"Don't throw a party while I'm gone, Sofie." Mom's standing by the door, grabbing her car keys.

"Me? Never." I laugh and kiss her cheek. When she leaves, I knock gently on the bedroom door.

"Santhy, you still up?" I fiddle with my shirt.

"What?" Santhy's voice is muffled under the pillow.

"So... who's your dad?" I ask.

She sighs. "Can't tell you, Fie. You have to figure it out." She whispers back and yawns.

I groan. Of course I do.

"But dad once told me... fate is the enemy of love. I think he's wrong. But I hope he's right."Santhy lifts the pillow slightly.

"Your dad sounds like he gives love advice on the radio." I roll my eyes, cringing from the line.

She chuckles. "That's perfect, cause you eat like you're on TV."

I gasp at the audacity. She quickly dozes off so I gently close the door behind me.

...

As I lie back in my bed, everything starts to dawn on me.

My killer can see her. I can see her. Mom can too. Who are these other men?

Could the dad be one of them? If he's around, wouldn't he be involved in her life? Or maybe he isn't—maybe I raise her alone. Will I go to a sperm bank? Will I meet my future husband and murderer in the same semester?

I clutch my pillow and scream into it.

Is it weird I'm more worried about my love life than my murder?

But maybe that's how fate works—slipping in through the cracks when you're distracted.

I can't let that happen. I need a plan.
Step one: Identify the five guys.
Step two: Uncover the killer
Step three: Stay alive

I've never been bold. Never taken risks.

But if I want to survive...

I have to become someone else.

Someone daring.