The best day of Skye's childhood was the day after her tenth birthday, when the nuns took her to have her timer implanted. She'd been counting down the days on the small chart she'd made and hidden under her mattress, the date circled in red sharpie. She'd been Mary Sue, then, and all Mary Sue wanted in the world was the absolute certainty that, one day, someone would love her completely.

Sister Heidi was the one who took her—holding Mary Sue's small hand in hers, holding her back when she darted forwards, nearly vibrating with excitement.

"Calm down, child," Sister Heidi had scolded her, freeing her hands to grip Mary Sue by the shoulders, holding her still in front of the reception desk.

The woman behind the counter had the kind of lipstick that made her lips look like brittle red plastic. She smiled down at Mary Sue, leaning over the counter slightly. "Hello there, young lady. Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes," Sister Heidi replied. "Mary Sue Poots." Rude, Mary Sue thought. The plastic-lip lady hadn't been talking to Sister Heidi.

The receptionist smiled again and gestured them towards a propped-open door. "You can go right through," she invited them.

This time, Sister Heidi didn't try to stop Mary Sue from tugging her through the door. They hurried through into a small room with a comfy-looking, reclining chair.

A young woman with died-blonde hair greeted them. "Hello there, I'm Doctor Hersher. Would you like to hop up on the chair, Mary Sue?"

Short for her age, she had to clamber up, upsetting the neat plait in her hair. She looked up at the doctor, curls falling in her eyes. "Can we do it now?" she asked, breathless with nerves.

The doctor chuckled, picking up a clipboard and a pen. "Just a second, honey, we need to go over some questions."

Mary Sue fidgeted in her seat. She'd read all about timers, knew how they worked (as much as anyone understood) and what they did. "Fine then." She acquiesced. A short cough and a sharp look from Sister Heidi let her know she'd pay for being rude to the doctor later. She shrank back into the seat.

"Okay then. How old are you?"

"Ten years, one day."

"Have you ever been under general anaesthetic before?"

"No, just local. For a broken arm," she added before the doctor could ask.

Doctor Hersher nodded, made a note. "That's fine then. Do you have any questions for me?"

Mary Sue shook her head quickly.

"You know what your timer will do?"

"It will have two readings; the first will count down until the day I meet my soulmate, the second will show his pulse. If he doesn't have his timer yet, it won't count down."

Doctor Hersher gave her an approving nod, tapping the bubbles out of a syringe. "Someone's done their research! Lie back, honey, and close your eyes. You'll wake up in ab—"

Mary Sue's wrist itched when she woke up, and it took her a few seconds to remember why.

Ecstatic, she scrambled to see her wrist. There, embedded into the slightly red skin of her left wrist, was the face of her timer.

13 years, 11 months, 2 weeks, 4 days, 6 hours, 31 minutes, 12 seconds—11 seconds—10 seconds

She blinked, shaking herself free of the trance she had fallen into watching the seconds tick by. Beneath the timer a small, sky-blue circle expanded and contracted in time with her soulmate's pulse. It was steady and even, slower than hers.

A brilliant, giddy smile spread across her face; if her soulmate felt the same way she did, then for the first time in her life—someone was looking forward to meeting her.