Revived (Cat Patrick)

buttering me up for this favor ?
    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