Revived

shivering.

“That’s sick,” Matt says with a flash of anger in his eyes.

“It is,” I agree. “It’s terrible. He had it really rough. But the Revive program saved him from that.”

Matt’s eyebrows go up like he wants to hear more, so I keep talking.

“So, Gavin’s best friend was one of the ones who died. His name was Michael Dekas. Anyway, before the crash, I guess Michael’s parents started to suspect something was going on at Gavin’s house, but they could never get Gavin to fess up. Mason said they asked Gavin’s mom about it but she denied it, then didn’t let Gavin come to their house for a while.

“Anyway, then the crash happened. Michael didn’t respond at all to the drug; his parents were obviously devastated. But then when the agents went to try to Revive Gavin, they found all these burns on his body. There was no one there to claim him—his parents were in Canada, I guess—and the agents asked if any of the families there knew Gavin. The Dekases came forward, and when they saw the burns, they made a snap decision to volunteer to relocate with Gavin… as their son.”

“No way,” Matt says.

“It’s true,” I say. “The program saved Gavin’s life twice, in a way.”

“Yeah,” Matt agrees. “But you know, that’s also sort of kidnapping. It might be worse than the nun thing.”

“I guess,” I say, never having thought about it like that.

“But I still think it was the right thing to do,” Matt clarifies quickly. “I mean, how could they send a kid back to a guy who was using him as an ashtray?”

“Exactly,” I say, but it lacks conviction. Matt and I both get lost in our thoughts for a few minutes. On my mind are shades of gray. Many times, I’ve pondered the ways in which Gavin’s life is so much better now, but the one thing I haven’t considered before is his real mom, and what her circumstances were like then and now. It strikes me for the first time that the situation might not have been as morally black and white as I’ve always thought.

Maybe they should have found her and offered her a way out, too.

There’s a gnawing inside me that feels like guilt: guilt for second-guessing the program that gave me a life and a home. I move on from Gavin’s story, at least on the outside.

“There were others who really benefited from Revive, too,” I say to Matt. “I already told you how Megan’s life got better. And Tyler and Joshua Hill—they’re identical twins. Both were Revived. They live in Utah. It would have been so terrible if just one didn’t make it, but they both did. Oh, and Elizabeth Monroe’s younger sister was supposed to have been on the bus that day but wasn’t; she stayed home sick. But Elizabeth was Revived, so her sister will never have the guilt of being the lucky one. I mean, can you imagine having to live each day knowing that your sibling won’t get to…”

I’m so concerned with running from moral dilemmas and trying to defend the program that I don’t realize what I’m saying until it’s out of my mouth. But then it hits me like a sledgehammer to the heart. Shocked by my own words, I look quickly, wide-eyed, at Matt.

He’s the lucky one; Audrey isn’t.

“Oh my god, Matt,” I say. “I can’t believe I said that.”

“It’s okay,” he says quietly before moving his eyes from me to the ceiling. There’s nothing of interest up there, but he stares anyway.

“No, it isn’t.”

The room is so still, it’s frozen.

“Actually, Daisy, you’re right,” Matt says finally, sighing loudly. He pulls his gaze from the ceiling and looks at me with fire in his dark eyes. “It’s not okay that a drug like this exists and it can’t help my sister. It’s not okay at all.”

I’m not sure what to do. Anxiously, I turn back to the screen and start closing files. I hear a clock chime downstairs; my breath sounds like a windstorm.

“We can never tell Aud about this,” Matt says flatly.

“You can never tell anyone about this,” I say.

“I said I wouldn’t,” Matt snaps. “But I guess you’ll have to trust me on that.”

“I do trust you,” I say softly. “It’s just that I’ve never told anyone this stuff before. I’ve never felt close enough to anyone to even consider telling them. And it would be a huge deal if it got out. I mean, there would be riots. Everyone would want it. But not everyone could benefit from it.”

“Like Audrey,” Matt says dismally. The anger is gone as quickly as it came, and I realize that I almost prefer it to sadness. Anger is manageable; sadness is heartbreaking.

“Like Audrey,” I echo.

Even though Audrey will never be in the Revive program, I think of reading her name in a case file. Of failed attempts at bringing her back scrawled in rough handwriting. Of her time of death noted like it’s nothing.

I can’t ignore the sick feeling in my stomach right now.

This little venture of mine into the world of Revive was meant as a gesture for Matt, but all it’s done is make me question my life. Revive brought me back, but the program stole a child from his mother and didn’t try other methods of saving seven people. Who knows what else might have worked on Michael Dekas or Kelsey Stroud? Maybe they needed surgery, not injections.

And beyond that, though I knew that telling Matt about Revive would be rough on him because of Audrey, I didn’t consider that it would also be rough on me. But as I sit here, that’s what weighs me down most.

Revive gave me life—it is my life—but it won’t give Audrey a second chance at hers. And for that, Matt has a right to be mad.

And so do I.

twenty

The sound of the garage door opening downstairs startles Matt and me out of our chairs. Quickly, I close everything on the computer and go through the steps to log off. We run out of the office and across the hall to my bedroom. Right as I’m wondering whether having Matt in my room is better than snooping in secret government files, someone starts coming up the stairs.

“Go sit in the beanbag,” I say. Matt bolts across the room. I sit on the floor, leaning against the bed. I take a deep breath seconds before I hear the knock on my door.

“Daisy?” Mason calls.

“Hey, Dad,” I say. The dad must have alerted him to someone else’s presence in my room—I only call Mason “Mason” at home—because when he opens the door, he’s all father. I can hear cupboards opening and closing in the kitchen downstairs; Cassie’s probably baking a casserole after seeing Matt’s car out front.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says to me. “Hello, Matt.”

Matt waves.

“Hey,” I say. “We were studying English.”

At this point, everyone in the room knows it’s a lie—there aren’t even any schoolbooks around—but Mason doesn’t know I told Matt about the program, and I’m determined to keep it that way.

“I see,” Mason says. “I hope you got a lot done, but it’s getting a little late for a school night. It’s probably about time for Matt to go home.”

I glance at the clock and realize that it’s almost nine. Six hours with Matt have passed like six minutes.

Matt starts climbing out of the beanbag and Mason turns to leave.

“Good to see you, young man,” he says. “I hope your sister is feeling better.”

“Thanks,” Matt says before Mason leaves.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “They’re home early.”

Matt crosses the room and stops about a foot from me. “It’s so weird knowing that he’s not your real dad,” he says. “He really acts like a normal father. He deserves an Oscar.”

“Wait ’til you meet my mom,” I say with a dramatic eye roll.