Revived

Revived Page 12

On the way home from school, Audrey asks me to go to a movie tonight, which I take as a return to normal after a confusing afternoon. But then I walk into my house, throw down my bag, and head downstairs to say hi to Mason. And he screws things up again.

“We’re going to Kansas City this weekend,” he says, barely looking up from what he’s working on.

“I know,” I say. “You told me this morning. Are you getting Alzheimer’s?” I smile at my own joke, but Mason ignores it. He seems stressed. He meets my gaze.

“I told you that Cassie and I are leaving tomorrow, not that you’re going with us.”

“Noooooo!” I protest. “You’re going to test Wade!”

Wade Zimmerman, formerly Wade Sergeant, is hands-down the most annoying of the bus kids. He’s only a year older than me, but he tries to act like he’s an adult. He has this condescending way of talking. But what bugs me the most about Wade is that he won’t acknowledge our shared past. In fact, he won’t talk to me about the program at all. It’s totally weird.

“Wade is a nice young man,” Mason says, shaking his head at me and writing something down. Cassie sneezes and I jump because I hadn’t even registered that she was in the room.

“Wade’s obnoxious,” I say, ignoring Cassie’s sniffles. “And you always let me decide whether I want to go with you to do the tests. Why are you making my decision for me this time?”

Mason sighs. “I don’t know,” he says. “Something’s bothering me, and I can’t put my finger on it. Call it instinct or paranoia. I’d like to keep you close this weekend.”

Apparently, Mason is one of God’s favorite Disciples because of Mason’s (borderline eerie) sixth sense about things. Knowing Mason is worried about something makes the hair on my arms stand up.

“Can I at least go to the movie with Audrey tonight?” I ask.

Pause.

“Yes,” Mason says, but the frown on his face tells me that he’d rather I didn’t.

I go anyway, so the detour from Normalville continues.

Mason claims he was already planning to go out for groceries, so he insists on dropping me off at Audrey’s instead of letting her pick me up at home. In the car on the way over, he warns me, again, about getting too close to my new friend.

“Daisy, I don’t want you to think that I’m against you having friends,” he says slowly. “But I do want to remind you what’s at stake here.”

“And I want to remind you that I’ve been in the program almost as long as you have,” I retort. “I get it.”

“I know,” Mason says. “It’s just that you haven’t actually been around that many people who aren’t bus kids or agents. I want you to keep your head on straight.”

“It’s on as straight as it can be,” I say.

“I guess that’s all I can ask of you.”

The way Mason checks the rearview mirror when we stop makes me afraid for a moment, but I brush it off and hop out of the car. I wave goodbye to him, but instead of leaving, he just sits there in the idling car as I ring the bell and wait for someone to answer. I hear footsteps running to the door on the other side. Audrey flings it open with a big smile on her face. Finally, Mason drives away.

“Hi!” Audrey says. “You’re late!”

“It’s Mas—my dad’s fault,” I lie. Honestly, I was having a clothing dilemma: broken-in sweatshirt, old jeans, and sneakers for maximum relaxation, or cuter—and less comfortable—straight-leg jeans, embellished T-shirt, and flats, just in case…

“Matt’s coming,” Audrey blurts out. “I thought I’d let you know so you don’t have to blush like…” She pauses to examine my face. “Well, like that in front of him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say self-consciously.

“Shut it,” Audrey teases. “I know you like him.”

“Do not.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing.”

“Um, yes you are. But no worries. Matt won’t notice.”

Audrey yells upstairs for Matt to meet us in the car, then pushes past me. I follow her to the driveway. Once we’re inside the car but before Matt joins us, I ask Audrey in a whisper: “Why won’t Matt notice me?”

Confused, Audrey stares blankly at me.

“You just said that,” I say. “That Matt won’t notice me blushing.”

“Oh my god, Daisy, don’t be so sensitive!” Audrey says. “I didn’t mean that he won’t notice you. I meant that he hardly notices anything these days. The other day he asked me where his hat was. He was wearing it.”

“Maybe he has something on his mind,” I offer, hoping Audrey will elaborate.

Audrey rolls her eyes. “Don’t we all,” she says. I want to ask what’s on her mind, and about a zillion other questions, but Matt opens the door and climbs in the backseat.

“Hey,” he says when I turn around to look at him. He looks like a model for Levi’s in his perfectly faded jeans and maroon-and-gray-striped hoodie.

“Hi, Matt,” I say back. “I like your sweatshirt.”

“Thanks,” he says, smiling a little. “Cool shirt.”

Audrey stifles a laugh and puts the car in reverse.

“Yes, we all look awesome,” she says. “Now let’s go. We’re going to miss the previews.”

I face front in the passenger seat, take a deep breath, and smile to myself. Glancing down at my shirt, I can’t help but give myself props for choosing to wear the cuter outfit. Even if the top button on my jeans is digging into my stomach.

The movie is a comedy, but I don’t laugh much. Instead, I listen to Matt. He only reacts to the smart jokes, not the stupid ones that everyone else seems to find hilarious. But when something strikes him as funny, it’s really hard for me not to smile. His laughter starts low and gets higher the longer it lasts. It’s easy and warm, like his mom’s chocolate-chip cookies, and it makes me want to snuggle up to him. It’s the perfect sound.

In contrast, Audrey’s breath sounds strangely labored. I wonder whether she’s got the flu or something, with the barfing at lunch and everything.

“Do you feel okay?” I whisper in Audrey’s ear.

“Shh,” she says. “I’m watching the movie.”

I look over at Matt and he’s looking at me, and I’m zapped by a jolt of electricity. I conjure up my flirtiest smile, then sit back and resume my popcorn-tub war with Audrey.

After the show we head to the food court because somehow half of the world’s largest container of popcorn simply wasn’t enough for Audrey. Matt and I find a place to sit while Audrey buys pretzel bites. We awkwardly look anywhere but at each other until I can’t take it anymore.

“Do you like Mr. Jefferson?” I ask.

“Yeah, he’s okay,” he says. “You?”

“He seems pretty cool.”

Pause.

“I didn’t tell Audrey that you took her phone,” I say, instantly feeling silly for bringing it up. I doubt he even remembers.