Revived (27 page)

Mason pauses; I look at him expectantly.

“The guy couldn’t describe the man other than to say that he had a lisp,” Mason says. He jumps when I inhale.

“Are you serious?” I say loudly.

“Daisy, calm down.”

“It’s not a coincidence,” I say. “What if God caused the bus crash, too?”

“Stop,” he says, startling me. “If that’s true, then the work I’ve done for eleven years is all for nothing. God would never—could never—purposely kill twenty-one people. Twenty
children
. It didn’t happen.”

“Fine,” I say. “But will you at least do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Ask David to look for the file on Case Twenty-two,” I say. “If it exists, he’ll find it. And if he finds it…”

I let the words hang in the air.

“Promise you’ll let it go if David doesn’t find anything,” he says.

“Only if you promise to do something about it if he does.”

Mason calls David and I make my way upstairs. Once there, feeling edgy, I pull out Audrey’s letter. Something about the smooth handwriting calms me: I’ve started reading it every time I feel upset.

Daisy—

Promise you’ll do two things for me.

The first is easy: Take my clothes. ALL OF THEM. Even if you throw them away, get them out of our house (but I have pretty good taste—haha!—so you should just keep them).

You’ve seen those people who can’t let go. They sob over old T-shirts that aren’t worth anything. My mom is a pack rat; she’ll obsess. My ugliest pajamas will break her heart. Take them, Daisy. Do it for me (and for your wardrobe D).

The second thing: Take care of my brother.

He tries to be this strong, tough guy, because I think that’s what he believes is expected of him. But he and I are so close…. This is going to wreck his world. I know he cares about you; I want you to be there for him.

There are so many other things to say, but I have to go to the hospital now. I hope you’ll never read this, but just in case, I want you to know that you are unique and beautiful and funny and
I’m glad to have called you my friend. My best friend.

Love,

Audrey

Beyond the clothes thing, I can’t help but think that I’m not doing too well with Audrey’s other request. I text Matt and when, after thirty minutes, nothing comes through, I wonder if I’ve waited too long to reach out to him. I wonder whether he’s already gone.

Not six hours later, Mason knocks at my bedroom door and tells me that he’s flying to Washington, D.C., tomorrow. Cassie will stay here with me while Mason goes to the top about God’s recent exploits.

When I turn out the light, I picture Matt lying next to me, and the idea of him makes me a little less restless. Still, with bus crashes and faceless men in my mind, it takes me forever to fall asleep, which is why I sleep until eleven o’clock in the morning.

By the time I wake up, the house is quiet.

Everyone’s gone.

As I crunch through a bowl of old-people cereal, I grow increasingly anxious about Mason’s trip to Washington. I drum my fingers on the table as I consider the possible outcomes.

Worst case, God will be found guilty of heinous crimes, no one will want to step in to run a dysfunctional program already in progress, and the world as I know it will crumble. The God Project will die; Revive will be the basis for a study with new,
willing
participants. Disgruntled bus kids will speak out; newspapers will accuse the government of hiding a superdrug; the government will lie about the drug’s existence. Revive will become nothing but a myth; no one will have access.

Not even me.

And with no program to keep us together, what will become of me and Megan? Or of me and Mason, for that matter? Where will I live?

Shaking off thoughts of homelessness, I consider the more positive scenario.

Best case, God’s actions will be easily explained and the program will continue as it has been. The rest of the bus kids and I will remain in the God Project for another nineteen years, after which point—assuming there have been no major issues—the FDA will approve Revive and make it available on a very small, controlled scale, probably first to the military. Carefully and quietly, it will trickle out to the public, and new lives will be saved.

Except I can’t shake the feeling that the best case isn’t that great. The past few months have been eye-opening for me; knowing what I do now about the program, will it ever really be the same? When I look through the files of those who didn’t respond to Revive, will I dwell on the fact that they weren’t given other lifesaving measures? When I visit Gavin in New York, will I be able to love his parents as much knowing that they took him from his birth mother? When I think of Audrey, will I always feel that I kept something monumental from her?

When I look into Matt’s eyes, will I ever feel like he’s safe?

With no right answer to comfort me, I shiver in my sleep shirt despite it being hot here in Hell, Texas. I get up,
rinse my bowl in the sink, and decide to try not to think about Mason’s trip. He’s not even on the plane yet; his meeting’s not until tomorrow. There’s plenty of time to worry about him later.

For now, I choose to focus on Matt.

I check to confirm that he hasn’t responded to my email or text. Then, I dial.

“Hi,” he says, as if he was expecting me.

“Uh, hi,” I say, surprised. I thought my call would go to voice mail; I glance at the clock and realize it’s the beginning of lunch period at school.

We’re both quiet for a minute. I wonder whether he’s thinking of the last time we saw each other, because that’s what I’m thinking about.

“Where are you?” I ask. It’s too quiet in the background.

“In my kitchen,” he says. “Where are you? You haven’t been in school.”

“Texas,” I say.

“
What
? Why?”

“Long story,” I say. “Something’s going on with the program. I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”

“Fine with me.”

Pause.

“Matt, I wanted…” I stop talking because I’m not sure
what
I wanted. Instead, I ask, “Did you get my email?”

“Yes,” he says quietly. “Text, too.” And then, just when
I think he’s going to make an excuse for not writing back, he simply says, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thanks for doing that thing for Aud, too,” Matt says. “The lyrics.”

“I didn’t really mean to start a trend,” I say. “I wanted to give her something.”

“I know,” Matt says. “I know what you mean.”

“I miss her,” I say quietly. He doesn’t reply. His mom says something to him in the background.

“Listen, I’ve got to go,” he says. “Can I call you back?”

“Sure,” I say, my voice blatantly disappointed.

“Okay, I will. Bye.”

Matt hangs up before I have the chance to say goodbye.

I check the time on my phone: Mason’s flight is taking off in a few minutes. At least Cassie will be back from the airport soon to rescue me from loneliness. Then again, having her around doesn’t necessarily feel like company.

Frustrated by the feeling that I’m losing Matt more by the day, I grab a book and jog downstairs. I consider flopping onto the dingy couch in the living room, then turn instead toward the back of the house. Through the picture window, I see a line of trees acting as a fence for the property line. The middle one has a lovely reading spot beneath it. Fresh air calls.

I grab a blanket, bang out the back door, and stomp across the patio and the grass. It’s snowing in other parts
of the country and here it’s still seventy degrees out; it’s strange to be in such a season-less place. As I walk farther away from the house, the grass gets more and more overgrown until it’s up to midcalf, just before the tree line. I throw down the blanket and ease to a sitting position, my back against tree bark.

I open my book and try to read, but I’m distracted by everything; the words don’t make sense. After rereading the first page three times, I give up. I set the book down on the blanket next to me, lean my head back, and close my eyes. Right when I’m starting to unwind, my ringtone makes me jump. I pull the phone out of my pocket; my stomach flips when I see that it’s Matt.

“You called back,” I say.

“I said I would,” Matt says softly. “You didn’t think I was going to call?”

“I… no,” I admit.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says. “I’m sorry for not replying or calling. It’s been hard. But I realized after I talked to you earlier that you’re the one person on earth who makes it better.”

I cover my mouth with my fingers and speak through them: “Wow,” I say.

“What?”

“Sorry,” I say, moving my hand back to the blanket. “I said ‘wow.’ I mean… that’s how I feel about you. Like if we could be near each other all the time, it would make it better.”

“I know,” Matt says. “I mean, you have the craziest life
of anyone I’ve ever heard of, but you’re the only one who makes me feel calm and sane.”

We listen to each other breathe for a few moments.

“Do you want to talk about Audrey?” I ask.

“Not really,” he says. “My parents are making me go to a counselor. All I do is talk about Audrey.”

“I understand,” I say, wanting to change the subject. “So… are you on your way back to school?”

“Not yet,” Matt says. “I came home to take my mom to an appointment. Her car’s in the shop. After I pick her up I’ll head back. I’ll miss a little of next period, but no biggie. Half of another class after all I’ve missed won’t matter.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly.

There’s a lull in the conversation before he adds: “When my mom calls, I’ll have to go again.”

“Okay, no problem,” I say quickly.

“But I promise to call back,” he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“You’d better.”

Pause.

“So, I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but is everything okay with you?” Matt asks. “You guys randomly took off again, and now you’re in… Where are you again?”

“Texas.” I groan. “And yes, I’m fine. Everything’s okay. It’s some heavy stuff, but it’s all going to be sorted out soon. Thanks for asking.”

“Sure,” Matt says. I think I hear a little disappointment in his voice, like he wanted me to open up. Then he moves on. “So, what’s it like in Texas?”

“The lamest,” I say. “At least where we are.”

“I thought Texas was cool?” Matt asks.

“Parts of it, yes,” I say. “But Hayes? Hayes is the opposite of cool.”

“Hot,” Matt jokes. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand.

“It is definitely hot!” I say with a laugh. “I’m sweating like a pig right now!”

Matt laughs, too, the laugh I love so much it hurts, and for the moment at least, the mood is lifted. We chat about whether pigs really sweat that much and it’s so easy and
normal
that I blurt out what I really want to say: “I want to be your girlfriend.”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Matt replies easily, without hesitation.

“What do we do about that?” I ask.

Matt pauses, thinking a moment. “I guess what we just did? I mean, if we want to be together, then we are, even if you’re in Texas.”

“So we’re dating,” I say, trying it on for size.

“Honestly, I think we have been for a while,” Matt says. “At least since that first kiss.” My stomach turns somersaults and I smile a smile that makes my cheeks sore.

“I miss that kiss. And the other ones, too.”

“Me, too.”

“But, Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad we didn’t… you know…”

“I know,” he says. “Not that it wouldn’t be awesome,” he adds quickly. “I’m just glad we didn’t do something so huge on a day that was so bad. The experience would always be a little bit… tainted.”

Matt’s words are exactly what I need to hear. I want to run to him, but I have no way to get there. Instead I settle for telling him I love him, because suddenly I need to say it out loud—so he can hear me this time.

The moment I open my mouth, Matt’s phone beeps.

“Hold on a sec,” he says. “I bet it’s my mom.”

“Okay,” I say. He switches over to the other line and I consider how I should say it—
Matt, I love you
, or
I love you, Matt—
while I move my feet to the beat of his hold song. A fly buzzes near my exposed ear and I brush it away lightly. Feeling airy, I sing quietly along with the song, wondering what he and his mom are talking about right now. It’s been a few seconds but I don’t mind. I’ll wait all day for him.

Just then my other line rings, too. I switch over excitedly, expecting Megan and wanting to update her on the good news with Matt before I have to flip back over.