“Nice to meet a fellow transplant,” I say. “I moved from Omaha. I miss it, but what can you do?”
“I hear you,” Elsie says, tossing her bag in her locker. “I pine for Portland.”
I laugh a little and so does she, but then there’s an awkward pause in the conversation when it seems like neither of us knows what to say. Again, I think of Audrey. We never struggled. Then again, Megan and I didn’t say five words to each other the first time we met.
“Well, I guess I’ll head to class,” Elsie says. “You know where you’re going?”
I screw up my face in concentration and look around a bit. Then I point to the left. “I think I’m headed that way.”
“Don’t worry, it’s an easy layout. The kids are pretty cool. You’ll do great.”
“Thanks,” I say. We turn away from each other, and then I hear her voice call me back.
“Hey, what did you say your name was?” she asks. My stomach rolls. The FDA made me change it, and not just the last name this time, in case they kill the program and this is my permanent home. They claimed Daisy was too distinctive.
This is the first time I’m saying my new name aloud.
“Oh, sorry,” I say casually. “I don’t think I did. My name is Sophie. Sophie Weller.”
Mason had suggested Sophie because it was his mother’s first name. And I didn’t know until last week, but Weller is his real surname.
>“Aquariums,” I say, remembering.
“Aquariums,” Mason says, realizing that I was probably right about the man under the ocean being God, too.
“How could anyone do that?” I ask, not because I’m particularly surprised but because I’m sad for all of us in the program, and for those of us who aren’t.
“He’d have to be a sociopath,” Mason says. “Which, I guess he is.”
“And what about Cassie?” I ask, horrified.
“We always knew she was a genius who graduated early and was recruited out of college,” Mason says. “But the truth is that it started much earlier than that.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, confused.
“Daisy, when God called Cassie Jesus that day in Texas, it wasn’t much of a stretch,” he says. “Cassie is God’s daughter.”
I gasp, then shake my head. Mason fills in the blanks.
“Her mother left when she was little, and I guess God saw that as an opportunity to mold Cassie into the person he wanted her to be,” he says. “When the director figured out their relationship through DNA tests, he went back through Cassie’s records more closely. She was rigorously homeschooled and never allowed to have friends. She was trained on weaponry and military tactics as a preteen. She was pushed into early graduation. Basically, she was bred to be an agent.” Mason pauses. “With a man like that raising her, she didn’t have a chance. She always wanted to please him, and I guess she never grew out of it.”
“Why do you think he placed her with us?” I ask.
Mason sighs. I know he feels bad for not sensing that something was very wrong with Cassie.
“I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure,” Mason says. “But my guess is that it was because of you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I think God was a little obsessed with you,” Mason says. It sends chills through me. “Back when the bus crashed, he wanted to find you another place to live. He didn’t want an agent taking on a child. But I fought for you.”
“Why?”
“Did I ever tell you about my wife?” Mason asks.
“No, but I know,” I say quietly. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve snooped in Mason’s personnel file. I did it regularly until I found out that he had a wife who died in a skiing accident. After that, I was riddled with guilt and never opened his file again.
“Good,” Mason surprises me by saying. “I’m not always the best at talking about personal stuff, but I’m glad you know.” He pauses. “You would have liked her. She was really funny. And she was a hell of a cook.”