He found the bottle of aspirin and told Julie that he was going. "Do you want me to go with you?" she asked.

"No, stay here," Alex said. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Harvey made an offer for her while she was with him. He took his time walking down the stairs, and then slowly made his way to Harvey's. He knew it was possible no food had come in during the week and Harvey might not have any to barter. He also knew Harvey might find his coat and a bottle of aspirin worthless. He knew lots of things that he didn't want to know.

But at the store he found the one thing he didn't expect: The door was locked.

Alex banged at it. Maybe Harvey was in the John. But there was no sound. Had Harvey gone? Had he somehow escaped, in spite of the quarantine?

The thought enraged Alex. If Harvey had left, he certainly would have taken his food with him. But Alex was too angry to be rational. He pulled off his shoe, and using what little energy he had left, used it to smash open the storefront window. Shards of glass fell onto the snow.

Alex put his shoe back on, reached in, and unlocked the door. Harvey was lying on the floor, his right arm stretched out, as though he was grabbing for something.

Alex took off his glove, knelt, and felt for a pulse. He couldn't find one, but Harvey was still warm, so he put his ear to Harvey's mouth to try to sense any breathing. Not that he'd know what to do if Harvey was still alive.

It didn't matter. Harvey was fresh dead. Probably no more than ten minutes. The last of a dead breed.

Alex knew he should pray for Harvey's soul, but the only prayer he could utter was "Please God, let me find some food." He stepped around Harvey and began to search.

The storefront was completely empty. Desperate, Alex opened the door to the bathroom. He found a couple of candles on the sink, and two boxes on top of the toilet.

The first box held nothing but clothes, so filthy Alex could barely make himself touch them. He threw the box onto the floor, took a deep breath, and opened the second one. It was half full with food. Two bags of rice, six cans of red beans, two of black beans, four of spinach, two of split pea soup, one of lentil, one of carrots, three of mixed vegetables, and one of sardines.

If they were careful, the food could last until the twenty-sixth. They'd save the sardines for Christmas.

Alex knew he'd have to move fast. He wasn't the only person on the Upper West Side praying for food. He pulled out one of Harvey's shirts, loaded it with the cans and bags and candles, then tied the sleeves together. He unbuttoned his coat, slid the bundle next to his chest, and buttoned the coat back up. It wasn't much of a disguise, but it would have to do, on the off chance he saw another human being between Harvey's and home.

He went back through the storefront, glancing briefly at Harvey. "I'll pray for your soul when I get home," he promised, then unlocked the door, looked around at the empty street, grabbed the sharpest shard of glass for protection, and began the journey back to safety.

Saturday, December 17

"Alex, what are you doing?"

"Taking off my coat," Alex said. "It's awfully hot in here. I think I'll open a window."

"Alex, it's freezing in here. Alex? Alex, answer me. Bri! Bri, come in here now! Alex's collapsed!"

Sunday, December 18

"Alex, drink this. Alex, you have to swallow this."

"Mami?" When did Mami come home? She was at work, at her new job. How could she be home? And why wasn't he at school? It was too hot to be a snow day. It must be a hundred degrees.

"He's kicking the blankets off again. Julie, help me."

"No!" Alex said. "Mami, no. I'm too hot."

"Alex, it's all right," Mami said, but she didn't sound like Mami. She sounded like Bri. Only Bri was coughing. Bri coughed too much. Papi never coughed. A man didn't cough. Alex was going to be a man just like Papi. He would never cough.

"Julie, hold him while I get the soup down."

Alex laughed. How could Julie hold him; Papi could hold him, but not Julie. Where was Papi, anyway? He'd gone away a long time ago, but he should be back by now. Apartment 12B had a problem with plumbing. Papi had to fix it. Papi could fix anything. Papi could fix the moon.

"Do you think he got any of the aspirin down?"

"Yeah, I think so. Alex, keep still. We're trying to make you better."

No one ever tried to make Carlos better. Carlos was just fine the way he was. He never had to work for anything. Neither did Bri or Julie because they were girls and no one expected anything from them. No, just Alex had to get better. Whatever he did was never good enough. Vice president. Assistant editor. Second in his class. Never good enough. How-could he be president of the United States if he was only second in his class?

He was tired of being second best. He was tired of trying and failing. He was too hot. He must have died and gone to hell. Only hell could be this hot.

Monday, December 19

Mami washed his face with a cold washcloth. "Don't fall asleep, Alex," she said. "Stay awake now."

Sleep? How could he sleep? He was freezing. Why wasn't the radiator working? "Papi, I'm cold."

"Put another blanket on him," Bri said. "Take one of ours."

One of their what? Who threw him into a snowbank? Carlos must have. Carlos thought he was a big baby. He'd show Carlos. He'd climb out of the snowbank himself.

"Julie! He's trying to get up. Hold him down."

Julie couldn't hold him down. No one could hold him down. Not even Chris Flynn could hold him down. He was the first Puerto Rican president of the United States. Chris Flynn wasn't. Carlos wasn't. Not even Papi was the first Puerto Rican president of the United States. Why would anyone throw the first Puerto Rican president of the United States into a snowbank? Why wasn't there any heat in the White House?

Kevin respected him. "Hello, Mr. President," Kevin said.

"Hello, Mr. Vice President," Alex said. That didn't seem right. Alex was vice president, not Kevin. What was Kevin? Was he Secretary of State? It was hard to remember.

"Heaven's not too bad," Kevin said. "Better than I'd imagined. Lots of copies of Playboy in heaven. Harvey gets me all the latest issues."

Harvey had opened a newsstand. "Wanna copy of Playboy!" he asked Alex with a leer. Harvey had lost all his teeth. "Two copies for a can of tomatoes and a spitfire."

Hell had been so hot, but heaven was even colder. Somehow Alex had thought heaven would always be at seventy-six degrees. Maybe warmer if you wanted to go swimming.

"You might as well die, Mr. President," Kevin said. "We're all going to die soon enough."

"Not I," said Father Mulrooney. "I will never die."

Alex was pleased to see Father Mulrooney. "I think you should be Chief Justice," he said to the elderly priest.

"I'd rather be ambassador to the Vatican," Father Mulrooney said, shooting his eyebrows so high they bounced against the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

"Want to go body shopping, Mr. President?" Kevin asked. "Look at this nice big pile."

Alex walked over to the pile of bodies. There must have been a hundred of them. Kevin brought him a ladder so he could climb all the way to the top to look for shoes and watches.

Papi was on top of the pile. Alex picked him up and threw him down to Kevin. "Good catch!" Alex cried.

Next came Mami. "Here we speak English," she said as he tossed her to Kevin.

Somehow Kevin himself had gotten to the top of the pile. He grinned at Alex and said, "I'm dead, Mr. President. Remember?"

"No you're not," Alex said. "I pulled the branch off of you. Kevin! Come back here! Kevin!"