Revived (Cat Patrick)

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