“Maybe God would make an exception,” I murmur.
“You know God doesn’t make exceptions,” Mason says quietly. “No one in; no one out.”
“That’s so… wrong,” I protest. “Revive helps people. Shouldn’t it be helping more people?”
“Perhaps,” Mason says thoughtfully. “But regardless of that, as you well know, the drug doesn’t work on cancer patients.”
“But when was the last time that theory was tested?” I ask, trying to keep my volume in check. “The lab is always updating the formula. Maybe the newest version will work. It’s at least worth a—”
“Daisy?”
I stop talking, but don’t answer.
“Daisy, it won’t work,” he says softly. Mason doesn’t have to finish his sentence; I know what he means. I get a sick feeling in my stomach, so I change the subject.
“When are you coming back?” I ask.
“Will you be okay if we stick to our original plan?” Mason asks. “Returning Monday evening?”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“Would you like me to ask the McKeans if you could stay at their house tonight? So you’re not all alone?”
“Sure,” I say, with little enthusiasm.
“All right,” Mason says. “I’ll take care of it. But check in with me tomorrow afternoon, okay?”
“I will,” I promise.
“Oh, and Daisy?” Mason says.
“What?” I ask, just wanting to hang up.
“If you ever take off without telling me again, you’re going to be grounded for the rest of your life.”
fifteen
I’m glad, then feel guilty for being glad, when Audrey goes to bed at eight o’clock. I jump in my seat when she abruptly stands and dramatically bids Matt and me farewell, barely one second into the credits for the first movie. After she leaves, we look at each other quizzically from opposite ends of the couch.
“Want to go somewhere?” Matt asks, like he’s been waiting all evening. He’s in jeans; I have on yoga pants.
“This late?” I ask in protest, even though my stomach is flipping at the thought of going somewhere—anywhere—with Matt.
“It’s not so late, Grandma,” he says with a gleam in his eye. He stands up. “I’ll go tell my mom we’re going out for a bit. Get dressed and meet me back down here, unless you want to go outside in your pj’s.
“These aren’t pj’s,” I correct him. “They are stylish loungewear.”
“Do you want to go out in your stylish loungewear?” he asks.
“Not really,” I admit.
Matt heads off to find his mom, and I rush to the guest room—I’m staying in here tonight instead of in Audrey’s room, so I won’t disturb her—and quickly change into jeans, then throw a light sweater over my red shirt. Then I remove the sweater and the red shirt, and put on a purple T-shirt with ruffle embellishments instead. It’s one I borrowed from Audrey that, according to her, “pimps my eyes.” I apply lip gloss, let down my hair, put the sweater back on, and meet Matt downstairs.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” I say back.
“You look good,” he says, turning toward the front door.