Borrowed Time

She remembered the feeling of nauseous weightlessness as clearly as she recalled her non-existent measurement. Ice had clambered down her spine as she looked at her name.

No line was drawn next to her stupid name. She had seen it clearly - there was no doubt that it was her. "Saya Joan Kirk," the Book said, and yet it didn't tell her she was living on borrowed time. There was only a dot next to the name her parents had argued so long about.

She had worried over it day and night.

Rowan didn't understand early on - he didn't know what it was _for_. But she knew. From the very beginning, from the first time she had touched that spotlessly filthy Book, she knew.

The people that lived around her all had timelines.

_Rowan_ had a timeline.

Sunny next door, Sunny who never let anyone know that her real, Christian name was Sunday, Sunny who loved cherry pie with ice cream and talked to animals daily - that bighearted Sunny had a timeline, and it ended as soon as she hit twenty.

And Saya knew about it all.