Finally, I find my words… at least three of them.
“There’s no way…” I say, my voice trailing off. Matt looks at me like he’s expecting something. Practically demanding it. I try three more: “Matt, I can’t.”
He stands up from the bed and steps so close to me that we could kiss.
“I know it will be hard, but I think if you—”
“No,” I say decisively, taking a step away from him. “No. I can’t do it. I signed an oath.”
“But it’s for Audrey,” Matt says, touching me lightly on the arm. He looks at me the way he did the night of my birthday. It makes me feel sick.
“No,” I say again. His hand recoils and he turns away from me a bit.
“Don’t you care about my sister?”
“Of course!”
“Don’t you want her to live?”
“Of course!” I say again, raising my voice a little. “But it won’t work on her. Don’t you remember what I told you? This isn’t the way.”
“That’s what you’ve been programmed to say,” Matt mutters. He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Matt, seriously, it won’t work. It doesn’t work on cancer. They’ve tried it.”
“So you’ve said. What did they test it on? Rats?”
“Well, yes, but they’re very good indicators—”
“Daisy, that’s bullshit,” Matt interrupts. “So, what, only you get the drug? No one else is good enough to have it, but you get it five times? Good thing you live with the Revive dealers.”
“Hey!” I shout. “That’s enough.” I stare into Matt’s dark eyes and wonder where the kindness went. Was it really all an act?
Feeling tears coming, I face the bed.
“I think you should leave,” I say without looking at him.
“Good idea,” Matt says bitterly before turning and slamming my bedroom door behind him.
twenty-five
Since Revive is staying at home, we get to fly to Seattle. I’m glad about it, but something about seeing people say goodbye to one another at the security gate sets me off. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back tears, increasingly frustrated by what happened with Matt, worried about Audrey, and concerned about Case 22 and the program overall. Once I’m through the metal detector, I tell Mason and Cassie I’ll meet them at the gate. Then I spend some time coming unglued and piecing myself back together in the privacy of the foul-smelling airport bathroom.
On the plane, I turn on my most miserable playlist and speak to no one the entire flight. In fact, I pretend to be asleep once we’re in the air, and keep pretending through snack service and turbulence. Just before we land, I finally remove my earbuds and put away my iPod. The flight attendant says it’s okay to turn our phones back on, and I’m happy to find a text waiting from Audrey.
Audrey: Matt said you guys are fighting. Everything ok?
With fresh tears popping into my eyes, I write back:
Daisy: Not sure. Hope so.
Audrey: Me, too.
Daisy: Are you feeling okay?
Audrey: Oh yeah, fine. I was just tired.
There is a pause, then Audrey texts again:
Audrey: I don’t mean to downplay everything that’s going on in your life, but I have good news. Do you want to hear it?
Smiling, I type:
Daisy: YES!
Audrey’s giving me something to hold on to.
Audrey: Ok so I just found out that I’m getting surgery!!
I type:
Daisy: OMG that’s great!!!
But something’s nudging me, so I type:
Daisy: But, Aud, I thought they couldn’t operate?
Audrey: New doctor = more optimistic. Maybe he can fix me.
I desperately want to be happy for Audrey, but something about the possibility of surgery now, when it’s never been an option before, makes me feel skeptical. But I don’t want to be a downer.
Daisy: He will! Think positively!
Audrey: I’m trying.
Daisy: I’ve got fingers and toes crossed for you.
Audrey: Thanks, Dais. Have a great time in Seattle. Miss you already!
Daisy: Miss you, too.
I put away the phone and Mason looks over at me quizzically. His tall frame is squished into the aisle seat. Despite her height, Cassie has room to spare in the middle.
“Everything okay?” Mason asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say, pressing my head against the window as we pull up at the gate, incredibly thankful that my fellow travelers are a disinterested fembot and a man who’s never been one to pry.
We check in to the hotel, have dinner, and bid one another goodnight. After posting a response to Megan’s note about my theory that Monday morning is clearly better than Sunday night, I check my email.
There’s nothing from Matt.
I start a movie, but it’s a romantic comedy, and all it does is make me see how unfunny my life is. I turn it off and climb into bed hoping tomorrow will be a better day. Before I turn out the lights, I text Megan.
Daisy: Crap week. Can’t wait to hang out.
Megan: Always here for you. Get some sleep and we’ll fix it tomorrow.
Daisy: Love you
Megan: Love you more
In the morning, Mason is reading an email on his phone when I join him and Cassie in the lobby. He frowns at the text on the screen, and then shows it to Cassie.
“Interesting,” she says as we walk to the car.
“To say the least,” Mason mutters.
When we’re all buckled in, I ask what’s going on.
“God seems to be starting another lab.”
“Why?” I ask. “Isn’t the one in Virginia doing well?”
“It is,” Mason says. “It was custom made for the program in its current iteration. The only reason I can think that he’d want another one is…” His voice trails off, like he’s considering his words.
“What?” I ask.
Cassie lets out her breath sharply. Sometimes I think she gets annoyed by how much Mason shares with me. But Mason tells me anyway.
“Expansion.”
I’m still wondering what Mason meant when Cassie knocks twice on the Holloways’ door. When Megan’s mom, Alicia, flings it open, I jump in front of my parental figures to hug her. The apartment smells like the world’s best banana muffins, and instantly, I’m calmer.
They’re halcyon muffins.
I smile at the thought of the SAT word, thinking that Matt would laugh. Then I remember our fight and eject him from my thoughts.
“Come in,” Alicia says to the three of us. “How are you?”
She’s one of those people who are so joyful that you fall in love with her instantly. Mason beams at her—sometimes I think he has a little crush—and even Cassie reciprocates when Alicia gives her a quick side hug.
“Now, where’s that Megan?” Alicia says, looking around the open-air loft.
“Did I hear my name?” calls a lowish voice, and Megan rounds the corner from behind one of the few interior walls in the apartment. In a flowery dress, with enviable white-blond locks and the thickest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, my soul sister–born a brother is beautiful. I stifle a laugh as she overplays a silly, sexy walk; she reminds me of a Slinky. I rush her and crush her with a hug.
“Hi,” I say into her pretty hair.
“Hi,” she says, squeezing me back. “How’s my girl?”
“Okay,” I say, holding on. Megan’s strong embrace reminds me a little of Matt’s, and tears pop into my eyes. Suddenly I’m crying and laughing at the same time.
Megan lets go and steps back to examine me.
“I’d say we have some catching up to do.”
I grin, so glad to be here.
twenty-six
After Megan’s first day of testing, she and I stroll through Pike Place Market. Having lived mostly in smaller cities, I experience a bit of sensory overload surrounded by the crowd, but I love it. Megan and I have a trad
ition of buying salted caramels from Fran’s, watching the fish throwers until it gets boring, then eating crab cakes at one of the restaurants that overlook the water.
“Can we skip the crab cakes tonight?” I ask as we turn away from the fresh catch. “I feel a little sick.”
Megan grabs my hand and pulls me out of the market toward the city. We walk the block and a half to Starbucks and don’t speak until we’re both armed with caffeine and seated at a cozy table by the window.
“You’ve never passed up a crab cake in your life,” Megan says. “What’s going on?”
“Matt asked me to steal Revive for Audrey,” I say.
Megan’s jaw drops in shock. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“Megan, WHAT?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I mean, why not?”
“Um, it’s seriously against the rules? I could get in major trouble. Like jail time.”
“They’d never do that,” Megan says, sipping her latte. “They’d be too afraid you’d rat out the whole program.”
“I never thought of it like that,” I admit.
“Listen, Daisy, I’m not knocking Revive or what it gave me and my mom. In fact, I’m grateful. But that doesn’t mean I have to let them brainwash me into thinking that every little move they make is right. It doesn’t mean I have to let them control me.” She holds my gaze for a few seconds. “You shouldn’t let them control you, either.”
“So, what, you think I should steal it?” I ask, nervous.
“I think you should do what you think is right, not what God tells you to do.”
The mention of God reminds me of the new lab. Expansion. Which reminds me of Case 22.
“I have to tell you something else,” I whisper.
“Ooh, juicy!” Megan says, leaning in.
Minutes later, every secret I have is out.
“We have to find Case Twenty-two,” Megan says when I’m finished. “The only way we can get the details is to ask the Convert directly.”
“How on earth do you propose we do that?” I ask. My coffee’s gone, and I’m sad about it.
“Get another one,” Megan says when she sees me eyeing my empty cup unhappily. “You’re on vacation.”
I buy a second cup and a scone and come back to the table.
“So how do you propose we find out who this person is?” I ask.
“What else do you remember about the file?” Megan asks.
“Nothing much,” I say. “I was stuck on it being the twenty-second case. I wasn’t paying too much attention to the rest. Oh—it did say the name of the relo town. It’s called Franklin, Nevada. I have no idea where that is.”
Megan types it into her phone.
“That’s because it’s barely a town,” she says. “Poor, poor kid has to grow up in a population of… oh my god, three thousand. Daisy, that’s our break. All we have to do is ask someone. It’s so small, surely anyone would notice the new family in town.”
Within minutes, my genius friend has come up with a plan to call the night desk at the local newspaper. She’ll tell whoever answers that it’s her job to do a write-up for the school website about the new family in town, but she’s so bad at journalism that she already forgot the family’s last name.
It’s so ridiculous, it works.
“That’s right, Emerson!” Megan says excitedly into the phone. “Oh, Bill, thank you so much. You have a great evening, too.”
“Now what?” I ask. “What do we do with just a last name?”
“We search Facebook, of course,” Megan says, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.
“You should be an agent,” I say.
“That’s what David says, too,” Megan says coyly. I know she likes her handler.
“Well, he’s right,” I say. “Let’s go.”
There’s no one with the last name Emerson in Franklin on Facebook, and there are too many Emersons when we search the entire state of Nevada. I’m ready to give up when Megan calls David.
“Will you do me a favor?” she purrs into the phone. I’m a little embarrassed, but a lot curious about what she’s going to ask.
Megan pauses to listen to David.
“Of course, but this should be no big deal. See, there’s this kid I met at that online party last weekend. We bonded, and I wanted to get in touch on Facebook. The only thing is that I don’t remember the first name.”
Pause.
“Yes, totally. The last name is Emerson, in Franklin, Nevada.”
Pause.
“Really? You know such random things. So anyway, they just moved to Franklin, so you could like figure it out with a newly hooked-up Internet connection or something, right?”
Pause.
“Hacking the city’s water company is even better! You’re a genius!”
Pause. Giggle.
“Sure, sure, I know you’re busy. But I’ll be forever in your debt, and…”
Pause.
“You know what? I’m not even sure!” Megan bursts out laughing, and I can hear David laughing on the other end of the line as well. When they recover, I hear David’s muted voice say something else.
“Okay, great. Thanks for your help.”
Pause.
“You, too. Bye.”
“What was so hilarious?” I ask after Megan ends the call.
She smiles broadly. “He picked up on the fact that I wasn’t saying ‘he’ or ‘she,’ ‘him’ or ‘her,’ ” Megan says. “He asked whether he’s looking for a boy or a girl.”
I laugh, getting it as she says it.
“He knows I participated in an online party for transgender kids last weekend, so he totally bought it when I said that I honestly had no idea.”
“You’re brilliant,” I say, hugging my friend.
“Ditto, Miss D.”
I’m staying at Megan’s tonight, like I always do when we’re in Seattle. In flannel pajama bottoms and ironic T-shirts, splayed out on her fluffy pink rug with bowls of popcorn on our tummies, Megan and I watch TV, then argue for half an hour about the pros and cons of slutty Halloween costumes.
“Save it for the blog!” I shout at her as I leave the room to pee. When I come back, she’s at her desk, typing furiously.
“I didn’t mean that you should blog right now,” I say as I flop onto the bed. I roll over on my back and laugh at the poster of Jake Gyllenhaal on the ceiling. Apparently, my friends make up the Jake G. fan club. I don’t really get it. I mean, he’s sort of old.
“David came through,” Megan says excitedly.
“Did he call?” I ask, eyes still on the ceiling.
“Yes, he called! He found the name. And I just found our girl!”
I pop up off the bed and hurry to the desk. I look over Megan’s shoulder: She’s on Facebook, typing a witty comment to go with her friend request. I read it and laugh, then my eyes find the profile picture and my laughter is gone.
The hair is shorter and a different color, but the face is the same.
It’s…
Oh my god.
Oh my GOD.
“What’s her name?” I ask, monotone. They never change first names. This will confirm it.
Megan looks up from her note and smiles.
“Oh, it’s so cute; she’s a little Irish lass. Her name is Nora.”
I lap Megan’s bedroom three times before she gets me to sit down.
“Girl, you’re tripping,” she says, sitting facing me. “Now what’s up?”
I sigh loudly, grabbing one of Megan’s pillows and clutching it to my chest.
“I went to school with that girl in Frozen Hills,” I say, pointing at the computer accusingly. “She’s the one who spotted me in the mall.”
“Daisy!” Megan says, rolling her eyes. “That profile picture is tiny by tiny—it could be me. You’re freaking out for no reason.”
“I’m not,” I say firmly. “I know what she looks like. She lived down the street f
rom me.”
“Wait, what?” Megan asks. “How is this the first I’m hearing about her?”
“Because we weren’t friends,” I explain. “We weren’t anything. She was popular and I was… well, you know.”
“Wait, wait,” Megan says. “I’m confused. Tell me the whole story. Speak slowly; pretend I’m Wade.” Megan winks and it makes me laugh, which takes away some of my anxiety.
“Okay,” I say, hugging the pillow tighter. “Nora Fitzgerald lived down the street from us in Frozen Hills. She invited me to her birthday party when we first moved there, but I didn’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Totally irrelevant.”
“Why not?”
“I felt inferior. She was rich and had an apron-wearing mom and wore clothes that matched head to toe.”
Megan nods once like she understands.
“So anyway, Nora turned out to be popular, and I did my own thing. Then I got stung and we moved.” I pause for breath; I feel like I’ve been running. “Then that night in Omaha, I went out with Matt and Audrey and I saw Nora—she was randomly visiting relatives or something—and she might have seen me…. But she might not have. Regardless, Mason kidnapped me that night and took me to Kansas City—”
“Poor Wade.”
“Shut up,” I say, tossing a pillow at Megan’s face. She catches it. “On the way, I asked Mason what God would do about Nora, and he said they’d watch and wait and see what she did.”
“What does that mean?” Megan asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “We didn’t really talk about it again. I found out about Audrey and went back to Omaha and sort of forgot about it.”