Текст книги "Revived"

Автор книги: Cat Patrick

Соавторы: Cat Patrick
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

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 tradition 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 from 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.”

“And then you got all lovey-dovey with Matt and really forgot about it,” Megan teases.

“Yeah, but it makes sense,” I say, ignoring her comment about Matt. “What if Nora did see me, and she told someone? What if God relocated her and her family so she’d keep quiet?”

“That’s a little far-fetched, but for the sake of argument, why would they agree to be relocated?” Megan asks.

“Maybe they didn’t,” I say. “Maybe God threatened them.”

“Or paid them off,” Megan says excitedly. “Maybe he gave them millions of dollars in hush money.”

“Maybe,” I say, genuinely considering it. “Except you’re forgetting the file.”

“That you claim to have seen at three in the morning after you had a sweeps-week moment with the guy you like, and that mysteriously disappeared after you saw it.”

“Are you saying that I imagined the file?” I ask seriously.

“Or dreamed it,” Megan says, matching my tone.

“It was there,” I say flatly, annoyed that she’s challenging me on this.

“Okay, I believe you,” she says, too quickly, which is even more annoying.

“If you’re going to cave so easily, why argue in the first place?” I ask, rolling my eyes at her. She doesn’t answer, so I continue. “Anyway, the file for Case Twenty-two says that the subject was Revived. As in dead and brought back to life.”

“Even if the file’s real, that entry could be fake, to cover up the money.”

“Or it could be real,” I say.

Megan shakes her head at me. “So, let me get this straight in my Wade-sized brain,” she says. “You’re saying that Nora saw you in that mall and told somebody, threatening to expose the program. And you’re saying that God found out about it and actually killed Nora so that he could Revive her and relocate her, all to make sure she didn’t talk?” Megan lifts her perfectly manicured eyebrows expectantly. “That’s your theory?”

“Yes,” I say decisively. “That’s my theory.”

Megan’s quiet for a few moments, considering. She squints her eyes at the ceiling and bites her pinkie nail. Then finally, she speaks: “I guess it could work.”

“You’re totally annoying,” I say.

“But you love me.”

“I do.”

“What should we do now?” Megan asks. “I mean, if your theory is true and God’s killing anyone who knows about the project…”

I suck in my breath so hard I think my lungs might explode. It makes Megan jump.

“What?” she asks, wide-eyed.

“Do you think Matt could be in danger?” I say, realizing what I might have done to the guy I like.

“No,” Megan says reflexively to reassure me. But the concerned look on her face tells me otherwise. “And the difference is that if this is true, Nora was threatening to out the program. No one knows that Matt knows, and he won’t tell anyone.” She pauses. “Right?”

“No,” I say uneasily. “At least I thought he wouldn’t.”

“He won’t,” Megan says quietly, as if she knows him. “You have good instincts with people. I’m sure you can still trust him, even if he’s being a child right now.”

“I hope so,” I say, worried anyway. “But oh my god, what about Nora? If it’s true, seeing me in that mall ruined her life.”

“You can’t take all the credit,” Megan says. “People make their own decisions. Maybe she saw you. But she could have minded her own business and stayed right there in Michigan. And besides, I’m not even one hundred percent convinced.”

“Look up Nora Fitzgerald on Facebook,” I command, fed up with the back-and-forth. Megan crawls off the bed and searches for Nora.

“No account,” she reports. “But maybe she’s one of those dorks who’s taking a stand against social networks. We should totally blog about that, by the way.”

“She’s not,” I say. “But just in case, search for Gina Geiger. She’s Nora’s best friend.”

“Okay, here’s Gina,” Megan says. “Whoa, check out that red lipstick. Is she a tranny?”

“Focus,” I say. “Look through her friend list.”

“Love to, but I can’t without friending her. Want me to?”

“No, let’s figure it out another way.”

“Should I go back to the original plan of friending Nora directly?” Megan asks.

“Shh,” I say, holding up a hand. “I’m thinking.”

The room is still for a few moments.

“Just Google Nora Fitzgerald and see if anything comes up,” I say as a last resort. I listen to Megan’s nails clicking against the keys.

“Here’s something,” she says, clicking on a link. I climb off the bed and walk up behind Megan as the page is loading. I realize that we’re looking at the Frozen Hills newspaper, then scan the rest of the page. Megan and I both gasp when we see the headline:

LOCAL TEEN KILLED IN DRUNK DRIVING ACCIDENT

“I guess you were right,” Megan says quietly.

“Guess so.”

twenty-seven

An unwilling night owl, I’m not asleep when I hear a knock on the front door at five AM. I wonder whether Alicia’s expecting someone as I listen to her shuffle through the condo to answer. There’s whispered conversation, and I’m surprised to realize that one of the low voices is Mason’s. Footsteps approach and the door to Megan’s room cracks open, spilling in a stream of light.

“Daisy?” Alicia whispers. “Mason’s here to see you.”

“Okay,” I whisper before crawling over the sleeping Megan. I tiptoe across the carpet and close her door behind me. When I’ve joined Mason, Alicia leaves us alone. I’m light sensitive and squinting, with my arms over my chest and my hands in my armpits because I’m not wearing a bra.

“I’m going to take you back to Omaha,” Mason says softly. “Cassie’s going to finish up here. I’m so sorry to tell you this, but Audrey’s in a coma. It’s likely that she’ll die very soon.”

My jaw drops. I blink. I blink again.

How can he tell me this when I’m still wearing pajamas?

I’m not sure why I expected a filter from him. He deals in death: It’s clinical, not personal. I’m not sure why I expected more of a warning from Audrey. I’m not sure why I expected anything at all. This is how people with no access to Revive end their lives: inconveniently and with no buffer.

They go into comas.

And die.

twenty-eight

I’m so concerned about Audrey—playing a loop of the last few times we saw each other in my head—that I’m barely even aware of the flight home. When we land, we get our luggage and find the car, then head straight to the hospital from the airport. But even as we’re driving there, Mason tries to talk me out of going.

“Daisy, I brought you back so you could say goodbye to your friend, but I’d like you to consider something.”

I don’t speak, so he goes on.

“You don’t have to go to the hospital. Audrey would understand.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my voice hoarse because I haven’t spoken for so long.

“I thought a lot about this on the plane,” Mason says. “People flock to deathbeds because they think that it’ll be better for them to say goodbye, to hold their loved one’s hand. But Daisy, sometimes it isn’t better. That image of them dying sticks with you. But still, people do it. And I’m happy to take you there if you want to go. I’m just saying that it’s okay if you want to hold on to the image of Audrey smiling and laughing and remember her that way. Because she’s not laughing right now. She’s not awake. She’s barely alive. A machine is breathing for her. Do you understand?”

I don’t speak right away. I think of Audrey in the hallway at school that day, of the perfect picture of her. Fleetingly, I consider what Mason is saying. But skipping the hard times just so I can remember the good doesn’t sound like the right thing to do. In fact, I’m not even sure Mason believes his own advice.

“I’m going,” I say flatly.

“I’m not sure that’s the right decision.”

“But it’s my decision, right?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Then I’m going.”

Walking under the arch leading into the hospital, I have knots in my stomach. I’m surprised that I’m actually afraid to see Audrey, like the permanence of her impending death might be catching or something. But I know in my heart that I need to be here.

We walk through the doors and across the vast lobby. With its muted colors and three-story wall of windows, the light, bright hospital seems to be telling me to feel hopeful. But I don’t.

We make our way to the ICU waiting room. There are tables arranged like a lounge, chairs near a TV, and couches along several of the walls. All of the furniture is either an unrecognizable shade of nothing blue—like that background color that comes standard as computer wallpaper—or something between peach and salmon. The room is bigger than our basement, but there are only five people inside: the McKeans—minus Audrey—Mason, and me.

When we walk in, Matt peels his eyes away from the window to look at me. The rest of his features are indifferent, but I can see wreckage in his eyes. Despite his behavior the last time I saw him, I want to run over and try my best to save him. He looks away before I finish the thought.

Mrs. McKean is stirring tea in a paper cup; Mr. McKean is pacing. I wonder who’s with Audrey until Mr. McKean explains to Mason that visiting hours are over for the afternoon.

“That’s too bad,” Mason says. He glances over at me before saying in a hushed tone, “When would be a good time for us to come back? Daisy would like to see Audrey.”

Mr. McKean looks at me sadly. He gives me a weak smile, then deals a blow to the gut. “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he says to Mason. “Only immediate family is allowed in the ICU.”

“I see,” Mason says in his businesslike manner. Irrationally, I wonder if Mason called ahead and asked Mr. McKean to lie, but in my heart I know that Mason would never do that. He only brought up not saying goodbye in the car to protect me.

Feeling helpless, I trudge to a seat stationed against the wall farthest away from Matt and flop into it.

The men speak in hushed tones for what feels like an extremely long time. I try not to listen as Mason gently offers to help in any way he can. He even goes so far as to offer counseling to Matt, which irritates me even though I know he’s simply trying to maintain cover. I bite my thumbnail. Matt stares out the window. The men shake hands. Mrs. McKean stares at her tea. Mason walks over to me.

“I’ll take you back to the house.”

“That’s it?” I ask.

“That’s it.”

Exhausted and hating hospital policy, the second I walk inside our house, I go to my room and climb under the covers. Not long after that, Mason appears. He sits down at the end of my bed and lightly touches my foot through the comforter. Then he puts his hands in his lap.

“Daisy, would you like to go back to Seattle and spend a few more days with Megan?”

“I want to stay here, just in case they change their minds,” I say.

“That’s highly unlikely.”

“Still.”

“I thought that Megan might boost your spirits,” Mason says. “You two seemed to be having fun. And then I could help Cassie—”

“Is this really about you wanting to go back and get the test done quicker?” I interrupt.

“No, but that would be a side benefit,” Mason says honestly.

“Just go.”

“I can’t leave you here alone.”

“You’ve left me alone a million times,” I say, shaking my head at him. “Get someone to check in on me if you’re so worried.”

“I…” Mason stops. I can tell he’s considering it.

“It’s fine, Mason, really. I’ll be fine. And besides, I sort of want to be alone, anyway.”

Mason nods, understanding. Like me, he enjoys solitude.

“Well, if you really don’t mind, perhaps I’ll call James.”

Two hours later, I’m alone in an empty house on the worst day of my life.

I’m startled awake, and at first I think I slept for twenty-four hours. Then I realize it’s the same horrible day: the day that started in Seattle and ended with me alone in an empty house, forbidden to see my dying friend at the hospital.

I lie still for a minute, thinking of all that’s happened and all that’s gone wrong. I sit up and rub my eyes, growing more and more agitated. Finally, when I can sit still no longer, anger and adrenaline catapult me out of bed and down the stairs. In the middle of the open area between the kitchen and the living room, I turn around, unsure what to do.

Because I have to do something.

And then the answer hits me like a hailstorm.

I run toward the basement door. I turn on the lights and gag on the smell of rat poop as I descend. At the bottom of the stairs, I make sure that every light does its job. I want to see everything: the medical equipment; the rat cages with furry, squeaky test subjects inside; the small, locked closet where they keep the firearms.

I want to see the black case.

Mason’s voice saying In case of an emergency, runs through my head.

If this isn’t an emergency, I don’t know what is.

I reach the case but hesitate before opening it. Somewhere deep inside me, I know what I’m doing is wrong. But then I think of Audrey. I think of Matt. I think of God and the program and Nora. How God controlled Nora. And how, with rules and oaths, he’s controlling me.

I think of Megan.

I think of taking control.

And then, with no more hesitation, I punch in the first code.

At six thirty, I stand alone on the river walk, watching the people move like ants through downtown after a long day at work. Mason and the other agents call them—the normal people—Unenlightened. More like untouched.

I hear the rhythmic thud of feet running toward me but I don’t turn to look. They slow as they approach, and then stop. Raspy breath sounds next to me, but there’s nothing else.

“I want you to know that I’m not doing this for you,” I say, keeping my eyes on the skyline.

“You have your reasons,” Matt answers gruffly. “Can we just do this? I need to get back to the hospital.”

I turn to face him. Our eyes meet for the second time today. And for the second time, despite hating him, I want to hug him. But I don’t. Instead, I reach into my pocket and pull out a tiny loaded syringe with a plastic cover over the needle.

“Burn the syringe after you use it,” I say to Matt.

“Okay.”

“I’ve never actually seen this done on a human,” I continue. “But I think you just give her the whole dose.”

“Where?” he asks. An evening breeze blows his long hair into his eyes. He shakes it out like he’s mad at it.

“I don’t know,” I say. I try to think back. Once I had an IV when I woke up. Maybe twice. “Does she have an IV? You could put it in that. Or just into her arm.”

“Okay,” Matt says, sounding unsure.

“Matt, you don’t have to do it if—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupts. “I have to. It can’t hurt her. I mean she’ll already be—”

“I know,” I jump in, not wanting him to say it. “But I want you to know how big of a deal this is,” I say, thinking of Nora’s situation.

“I’m not going to get you in trouble,” Matt snaps.

“I’m not talking about that,” I say calmly. “There are worse things than me getting in trouble.”

Matt looks at me, waiting for an explanation, but I stop talking and shove my hands into my jeans pockets. I don’t want to scare him, especially right now. Because in my heart I know he’ll do it anyway.

“Just be careful, okay?” My tone is pleading, and I can see in his mellowed gaze that I’ve gotten through.

“I will,” he says quietly. He takes a step away. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Of course,” I say, but it comes out a whisper.

Please let it work, I think.

I watch Matt walk away. He looks back once, and when he does, there’s a flash of something sweet in his eyes. But then he turns away again, and too soon, he’s gone.