Revived

more than four, an ornate sideboard, and a massive china cabinet with a hutch that I used to be afraid to walk in front of as a kid because I thought it was going to fall down and crush me. Hanging low over the table is a pretty chandelier that came with the house; underneath is a Persian rug.

As I look around now, I realize how meticulous the advance team was when positioning the furniture here. The house is decorated to be pleasant, but not eye-catching. To feel warm, but not make you want to rush out and replicate it. The only miss is…

“There aren’t any photos on the walls,” Matt observes.

“Yeah,” I say. “Well, we only moved in a couple weeks ago. My mom hasn’t gotten around to it yet.”

“I thought maybe your parents weren’t into that,” Matt says. “You know, the humiliating baby photos and stuff. I was going to say you were lucky.”

“No,” I say, playing it off. “Unfortunately not.”

I make a mental note to tell Mason that we have to get some baby photos on the walls, stat, and then offer to give Matt a tour of the rest of the house. We sweep through the kitchen—me ignoring the door that leads downstairs, because Cassie would blow a fuse if I took my boyfriend into her lair—and head upstairs. Only when I reach the creaky step at the top do I think about what’s happening right now: I’m taking a boy—maybe a boyfriend—to my room.

I don’t have a lounge area in my bedroom like Audrey does, so Matt walks over and sits down on the foot of my bed. I stop in the middle of the room and consider my options, then go and sit down next to him, leaving a couple feet of space between us.

“Cool room,” he says as he eyes the walls. He points to an Arcade Fire poster and smiles but doesn’t say anything about it.

“Thanks,” I say. “I like to decorate.”

“You and my sister,” he says with a small laugh. “But you’re pretty decent at it.”

Though I’m sure Matt doesn’t notice, I’m aware of my tiniest body movements. My knees tip, my shoulders turn, and my chin tilts toward him, like I’m a potted plant on a windowsill, shifting positions to find the brightest ray of sunlight. The right side of my body—the side closest to Matt—actually feels warmer than the left.

“So, what did I miss in English today?” I ask, basking.

“Nothing much,” Matt says. “Mr. Jefferson gave us a bunch of new vocabulary words to look up, so it was basically busywork all period.”

“What were the words? Let’s see if I know any of them.”

“Okay, um, if I can remember any…” Matt lies back and stares at the ceiling. It feels weird to be sitting up when he’s lying down, so I do the same. I’m careful of where I put my inside arm, totally aware of how close it is to Matt’s.

“There was banter,” he says.

“Which is what we’re doing right now,” I reply. I fold my hands over my stomach.

“And exorcise,” Matt says.

“Exercise?” I ask. “That was a vocabulary word?”

“No, not like running on a treadmill, like exorcising demons.”

“Oh,” I say. “Okay. Do another one.”

“Inculpate.”

“No clue.”

“I think it means to blame someone for something,” Matt says. “Or to teach? Or maybe the teaching one is inculcate.”

“What else?”

“There were some about books,” Matt continues. “Prologue and tome.”

“Too easy,” I say. “What was the challenge word?”

Mr. Jefferson likes to give us a challenge word of the day. If we get it right, we earn points. Enough points equals a free period.

“Halcyon,” Matt says.

“Halcyon,” I repeat. “Cool word. No clue what it means.”

“I didn’t know, either,” Matt says. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow when the answer’s on the board.”

“Or we could look it up.” I sit up, shove off the bed, and walk across the room to the bookshelf. My books are cataloged by color, and my dictionary is in the red section along with a DIY book about home decor, two romances, a thriller, and The Lord of the Rings. I grab the dictionary and flip through until I find it.

“It’s a mythical bird,” I say. “Oh, or it’s an adjective meaning calm, peaceful, prosperous, joyful, or carefree.”

“Good word,” Matt says. “I’ll never forget it now.”

“Really?” I ask, shutting the dictionary and joining him back on my bed. This time I lie on my side, and either I’m closer to Matt or it just feels that way because I can see him better. “How come?”

“Because carefree, peaceful… those words reminds me of you,” Matt says without hesitation, surprising me with his frankness. He looks away from the ceiling and into my eyes; his gaze is like lightning. “That’s how I feel when I’m with you.”

In a flash, I know what I didn’t before: His words are more than flattering; they’re the answer to the questions I’ve been asking myself for days.

Does he like me as much as I like him?

Can I trust him?

Should I tell him?

Now I know. I have the answer.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Wholeheartedly, absolutely, yes.

eighteen

“Uh…” Matt says, looking around Mason’s office a few minutes later. “What are we doing in here?”

“Sit down,” I say, gesturing to the chairs across from the massive desk. “Please,” I add, not wanting to sound bossy.

As I ease into the desk chair, I swallow down my anxiety and breathe deeply to calm myself. I try to focus on the positive side of the situation—that I feel so safe with Matt that I’m willing to risk everything—but the negatives muscle their way into my brain, too. I’m about to reveal a government secret that could have implications for nearly everyone I know. I’m getting ready to tell the guy I like that I’ve been lying to him. And finally, I’m about to tell the brother of a dying girl that there’s a drug that saves people… oh, but that his sister can’t have it.

It feels so overwhelming that for the blink of an eye, I consider backing out. But then I remember what Matt said:

Carefree, peaceful… those words remind me of you.

He has the right to know who I really am.

“Matt, there’s something I want to tell you,” I begin. “It’s about me. About my life.”

“Okay,” he says, eyeing me curiously. “And it’s something we have to talk about in your dad’s office?” he jokes, gesturing around at the stale white walls and brown furniture.

“Sort of,” I say. “Yes. But I’ll get to that part in a minute.”

“Okay.”

Pause.

“I’m not sure where to start.”

“The beginning?” Matt suggests, still smiling.

I exhale loudly, then decide to go for it. “I’m sworn not to tell you what I’m about to say,” I begin. Matt sits up a little straighter in his chair, his interest piqued. He nods, as if agreeing not to share my secret. “So, before a drug gets approved and can be sold to people, it goes through a bunch of testing. A lot of the time, the public