Revived (Cat Patrick)

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