The Program (2 page)

Like Lacey.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I let out a held breath. I don’t have to check to know what it means—James wants to meet. It’s the push I need to get through the rest of the period, the fact that he’s waiting for me. The fact that he’s
always
waiting for me.

•  •  •

As we file out of the classroom forty minutes later, I notice the dark-haired handler in the hallway, watching us. He seems to take extra time on me, but I try hard not to notice. Instead I keep my head down and walk quickly toward the gymnasium to find James.

I check over my shoulder to make sure no one is following me before turning down the stark white corridor with the
metal double doors. It’s nearly impossible to trust anyone not to report you for suspicious behavior. Not even our parents—especially not our parents.

It was Lacey’s father who called The Program to tell them that she was unwell. So now James, Miller, and I do everything we can to keep up the front at home. Smiles and small talk equal well-balanced and healthy. I wouldn’t dare show my parents anything else. Not now.

But once I turn eighteen, The Program loses its hold on me. I won’t be a minor so they can no longer force me into treatment. Although my risk doesn’t technically lower, The Program is bound to the laws of the land. I’ll be an adult, and as an adult it’s my God-given right to off myself if I so please.

Unless the epidemic gets worse. Then who knows what they’ll do.

When I get to the gymnasium doors, I push on the cold metal bar and slip inside. It’s been years since this part of the building was used. The Program cut athletics immediately after taking over, claiming it added too much competitive stress to our fragile student population. Now this space is used for storage—unused desks piled in the corner, stacks of unneeded textbooks.

“Anyone see you?”

I jump and look at James as he stands in the cramped space underneath the folded bleachers. Our space. The emotionless armor I’ve been wearing weakens.

“No,” I whisper. James holds out his hand to me and I meet
him in the shadows, pressing myself close to him. “It’s not a good day,” I murmur against his mouth.

“It rarely is.”

James and I have been together for over two years—since I was fifteen. But I’ve known him my entire life. He’d been best friends with my brother, Brady, before he killed himself.

I choke on the memory, like I’m drowning in it. I pull from James and bang the back of my head on the corner of the wooden bleacher above us. Wincing, I touch my scalp, but don’t cry. I wouldn’t dare cry at school.

“Let me see,” James says, reaching to rub his fingers over the spot. “You were probably protected by all this hair.” He grins and lets his hand glide into my dark curls, resting it protectively on the back of my neck. When I don’t return his smile, he pulls me closer. “Come here,” he whispers, sounding exhausted as he puts his arms around me.

I hug him, letting the images of Brady fade from my head, along with the picture of Lacey being dragged from her house by handlers. I slide my hand under the sleeve of James’s T-shirt and onto his bicep where his tattoos are.

The Program makes us anonymous, strips us of our right to mourn—because if we do, we can get flagged for appearing depressed. So James has found another way. On his right arm he’s keeping a list in permanent ink of those we’ve lost. Starting with Brady.

“I’m having bad thoughts,” I tell him.

“Then stop thinking,” he says simply.

“They took Kendra last period. It was horrible. And Lacey—”

“Stop thinking,” James says again, a little more forcefully.

I look up at him, the heaviness still in my chest as I meet his eyes. It’s hard to tell in the shadows, but James’s eyes are light blue, the sort of crystal blue that can make anyone stop with just a glance. He’s stunning that way.

“Kiss me instead,” he murmurs. I lean forward to press my lips to his, letting him have me in a way that only he can. A moment filled with sadness and hope. A bond of secrets and promises of forever.

It’s been two years since my brother died. Practically overnight, our lives were changed. We don’t know why Brady killed himself, why he abandoned us. But then again, no one knows what’s causing the epidemic—not even The Program.

Above us the bell for class rings, but neither James nor I react. Instead James’s tongue touches mine and he pulls me closer, deepening our kiss. Although dating is allowed, we try to keep our relationship low-key at school, at least when we can. The Program claims that forming healthy bonds keeps us emotionally strong, but then again, if it all goes horribly wrong, they can just make us forget. The Program can erase anything.

“I swiped my dad’s car keys,” James whispers between my lips. “What do you say we go skinny-dipping in the river after school?”

“How about you get naked and I’ll just watch?”

“Works for me.”

I laugh, and James gives me one more squeeze before taking his arms from around me. He pretends to fix my hair, really just messing it up more. “Better get to class,” he says finally. “And tell Miller he’s invited to watch me swim naked too.”

I back away, first kissing my fingers and then holding them up in a wave. James smiles.

He always knows what to say to me. How to make me feel normal. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have survived Brady’s death without him. If fact, I know I wouldn’t have.

After all, suicide is contagious.

WHEN I WALK INTO ECONOMICS, I TELL MY TEACHER
that therapy ran late, taking out one of the fake passes that me, James, and Miller made weeks ago. Since The Program started monitoring our school, I’ve found that my boyfriend is not only a talented liar but also a master of forgery. A handy skill to have as of late.

Mr. Rocco only glances at the pass before motioning me toward the back. It’s the fifth time I’ve been late this month, but luckily no one ever questions me. I’ve learned how to appear well. And in their eyes, talking to a professional is a sign that I’m trying to stay healthy.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Miller says when I sit down. “You and James have a good
therapy
session?” He’s sitting in the desk next
to mine, staring into his lap as the teacher turns to write on the dry-erase board.

Miller and I have been friends since the beginning of last year, sharing most of our classes together. He’s tall and wide, and I imagine if our high school had a football team, he’d be their star athlete.

“Yep,” I respond. “Think we really had a breakthrough this time.”

“I bet.”

He smiles but doesn’t look over. Instead he continues to doodle in a notepad that he’s got stashed under the desk. My heart thuds in my chest at what I have to say next.

“Lacey’s back,” I say quietly.

Miller scratches his pen harder into the paper. “Where’d you hear that?” I try not to react as the color drains from his face.

“Kendra Phillips told me before they came and . . .” I lower my voice.
“Took her.”

Miller finally looks sideways at me, obviously hearing about Kendra for the first time. His brown eyes narrow, maybe deciding if he truly believes that Lacey could be home. But then he just nods and goes back to his notepad. Never saying a word.

His silence nearly breaks me, and I spread my fingers out on the cool desktop, trying to keep my emotions in check. I stare down at my fingers, at the plastic heart-shaped ring there. James had given it to me the first time he kissed me—a few months before my brother died. Lacey and Miller always joked
that this ring was the closest I’d ever come to getting a real diamond from him. Then James would laugh, saying that he knew what I
really
wanted and it didn’t sparkle.

It was a different time then—a time when we all thought we’d make it. I close my eyes to keep from crying.

“I think . . .” Miller pauses, like he’s not sure he wants to say it. When I turn to him he bites on his lip. “I think I’m going to go to Sumpter to see her.”

“Miller—” I start, but he waves me away.

“I have to know if she remembers me, Sloane. I won’t be able to think of anything else until I know.”

I watch him for a long moment, see the pain behind his eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change his mind. Not when he loves her so much. “Be careful” is all I can utter.

“I will.”

My fear is strong enough to choke me. I worry that Miller will get caught at the alternative school and be flagged in the process. We’re expected to keep our distance from the returners unless the time is monitored at the Wellness Center, at least for a while. If we’re caught interfering with their recovery, we can get flagged or even arrested. And none of us wants to be sent away to become comfortably numb.

Miller is quiet through the rest of class, but when the bell rings, he gives me a nod. It might be dangerous for him to approach Lacey at this point, but if she was herself she’d want him to try. “See you at lunch,” he says, touching my shoulder before walking toward the door.

“See you then,” I respond, and quickly pull out my phone. I text James.
MILLER’S GOT A STUPID PLAN
.

I wait, still in my seat as the classroom filters out around me. When a message pops up on the screen, I feel my chest tighten.

SO DO I.

PLEASE DON’T
, I type. I’m terrified that my boyfriend and my best friend will get flagged, and I’ll be left all alone in this barren place. This barren world.

But all I get back is:
I LOVE YOU, SLOANE.

•  •  •

James and I watch as Miller waits in the lunch line, his movements slow and lethargic. He hasn’t been the same since I told him about Lacey, and I hate myself for it. I should have let James break the news.

At the start of lunch, James and Miller decide that after classes we’ll go to Sumpter High—the school for returners—and wait for Lacey to walk out. There’s no way Miller would get more than a few words in at the Wellness Center, not when handlers will be guarding Lacey for three more weeks. Miller is hoping that, in the parking lot of Sumpter (with the proper diversion), he can get Lacey alone long enough to remind her of who he is. He thinks he can get her back.

James is next to me with his head on his folded arms as they rest on the lunch table. He’s trying to look casual, but his eyes are trained on Miller. “At Sumpter, you and I are going to create a distraction,” James says in my direction.

“And if it doesn’t work?”

His mouth turns up, his eyes flicking from the line to mine. “I can be distracting, don’t you think?”

“James, I miss her too. But I don’t want anything to—”

He reaches out his hand to clasp mine. “I know the risk, but what if she’s still in there somehow? Miller has to try, Sloane. I would do it for you.”

“And I would for you,” I answer automatically. But James’s face clouds over.

“Don’t say that,” he snaps. “Don’t even think it.” He lets go of my hand. “I’ll kill myself before they ever take me into The Program.”

Tears burn my eyes because I know it’s not an idle threat. It’s a real possibility. James doesn’t try to console me this time, there’s no point. He can’t promise me he won’t kill himself. No one can.

Six weeks ago, after they took Lacey, I had to fight hard to keep from slipping into the depression that seems to be always waiting. The depression that tells me I’ll never make it. That it’d be easier to just let go. James convinced me and Miller that Lacey was gone forever, as if she was dead, and told us to mourn—privately. But now she’s back and I’m not sure how to feel anymore.

James doesn’t speak again until Miller drops down in the seat, the food on his tray jumping as he does. The room around us buzzes, but it’s quieter than usual. Word of Kendra’s
transfer
has put everyone on edge.

I notice the dark-haired handler standing by the exit door, not trying to disguise how he’s watching me. I lower my eyes to my half-eaten hamburger. Kendra called to me as she was being dragged out. She made him notice me. I can’t tell James.

Just then James rests his chin on my shoulder as his fingers touch mine. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m a dick, and I’m sorry.”

I look sideways at him, his blond hair curling at the ends near his neck, his blue eyes wide as he stares at me. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I say quietly, hoping Miller won’t hear me and think of Lacey.

James moves to put his arms around my waist to turn me toward him before pressing his forehead to mine, ignoring the fact that everyone can see us. His breath is warm across my lips. “I don’t want anything to happen to me either. But I’ll keep us safe.”

I close my eyes, letting the heat of his body compensate for the cold fear in my chest. “Promise?”

It takes him so long to answer that I give up and let in the dark thoughts once again. The idea that James can be ripped from me at any moment, or that I can get sent away to be changed forever.

But suddenly James buries his face in my hair as he hugs me to him. I stop worrying about the people around us, or even about Miller. I need to hear it. James knows I need to hear it. So then to my absolute relief his mouth is next to my ear and he whispers, “I promise.”

•  •  •

Sumpter High looms in front of us, looking more like a hospital that an educational facility. The stone facade is washed in white and the large rectangular windows are most certainly sealed. There’s a circular drop-off area near the front, but Miller and I are sitting in the cab of his truck in the back parking lot, staring ahead in silence.

James plans to meet us here after he puts in an appearance at his last class, but Miller and I had study hall, so we took off early with one of the fake passes. There are only ten more minutes until Sumpter lets out, and the anxiety at seeing Lacey again is growing, both in me and in Miller. I turn to look sideways at him.

Miller’s hat is pulled low, shading his eyes. Even though the ignition is off, his knuckles are white as they wrap around the steering wheel. All at once I’m scared of what he’ll do and how he’ll keep it under control. We shouldn’t be here.