I’ve been in The Program for close to a week now. I take the pills when they’re offered, opting to sleep rather than live an actual life. Even though I don’t trust Dr. Warren—not even a little—I took the pill sitting on her desk when I walked in. In therapy, it’s like my past is more attainable, as if the medication can help me zero in with clarity. And when I’m with James in my head, I’m not so lonely anymore.
“I don’t feel like talking today,” I say, wanting to keep the thoughts to myself.
She sighs. “That’s understandable. But I’m just really curious about you two. He’s such a source of anger.”
“No, he’s not,” I say instantly. “He’s the only thing I care about anymore.”
“But you’re angry.”
“Because you took him. You changed him.”
“I didn’t do those things. James was at another facility. But I’ve had a chance to look through his file.” She lowers her voice. “It says that James attempted suicide in The Program. Would you rather he was dead?”
Her words cut through me and I touch my chest, startled. James tried to kill himself ? Oh my God, the thought of it, just the thought makes tears stream from my eyes. “No,” I whisper. “I wouldn’t want him dead.”
“That’s good, Sloane,” she says, like it answers a question. “That how you’re supposed to react when someone wants to kill himself. Now, tell me more about James. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”
I sniffle, putting my forearm over my face as I think back on my and James’s life together. “I used to avoid him,” I start, relaxing into the medication. “He’d be at the house with Brady, and I would duck out of the room, or just pretend he wasn’t there. A few times he asked if I was okay, but I couldn’t look him in the eyes after the camping thing. Brady told me I was acting weird.” I laugh softly and lower my arm, remembering the face my brother would make when he said it.
“After a few weeks,” I continue, “James got annoyed. He even paid Brady five bucks to get him to call me into the room with them. I thought he was making fun of me, but when I stormed off, things changed.”
“How so?” Dr. Warren asks.
“James followed me upstairs, telling my brother he was coming to apologize. When he knocked on my door, I didn’t want to let him in at first. But he said please.” I smile, still able to hear his voice in head. Hear the soft, desperate way his words struck my heart. I was helpless to resist him, even then.
I wait before telling Dr. Warren the rest, wait as the drugs course through my veins, enveloping me in calm. I want to tell her everything. But first, I relive the moment for myself, seeking my own safe place in The Program.
• • •
When I opened my bedroom door, I found James leaning against the frame, looking utterly miserable.
“You hate me,” he said.
“No.”
“Then why are you ignoring me?”
I was thrown off, and looked past him into the hall to make sure no one was around. “What do you care?” I asked. “You already told me I wasn’t allowed to . . .” I motioned between the two of us, my face burning with embarrassment.
“Yeah, I say a lot of stupid things, Sloane. Why did you listen to that one?”
I stepped back then, confused. Was he . . . ? Did he . . . ?
James pushed my door open wider and walked in, closing it behind him. I stared at him, not sure what he was going to do.
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I don’t want to like you.” My heart sunk. “I don’t even want to notice you’re pretty. I want to tackle you in the dirt and make fun of your hair. I shouldn’t be thinking about putting my arms around you. And I sure as hell shouldn’t be thinking about kissing you right now.”
I tiny gasp escaped my lips, and my entire body warmed at his confession. But I was terrified of what would happen next, what it would mean. “You can’t kiss me,” I said, taking another step back. “You’ll ruin everything.”
“I know!” he agreed. He looked around my room, clearly annoyed, and then back at me. “What have you done?” he asked me.
“Me?”
“God,” he said, ignoring my question. “Do you know how many girls I don’t like? And then the one I do . . . It’s my best friend’s little sister?”
Butterflies went crazy in my stomach. “You like me?”
His eyes met mine, and then he furrowed his brow like he thought I was stupid. “Yes, Sloane.”
“And you’re being mean to me because . . .”
Then suddenly, James’s face cleared and he laughed. “I don’t know exactly. But I’ve been trying to not like you since you gave me a hard-on in the tent so—”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about it. Okay, so listen. We’re not going to kiss or anything,” he said, as if I’d propositioned him. “Maybe . . . I don’t know, maybe if we hang out—just the two of us—we’ll realize that we don’t really like each other. You could end up hating me. I can be a total shithead.”
My mouth twitched with a smile. “James, I’ve known you since I was in second grade. I’m not sure spending more time together is a great idea.”
He watched me for a while, thinking it over. “Probably not,” he said quietly. “But I want to anyway.”
“Oh.”
He shrugged. “Come here.”
I widened my eyes, startled. I thought he said we wouldn’t kiss. “No.”
James didn’t wait and instead moved to wrap his arms around me, pulling me into a hug. He rested his cheek on the top of my head, and I wasn’t sure what to do. We didn’t move for a long moment, and eventually I slid my hands from my side and put them around his waist. He sighed when I did.
“Freaking hell, Sloane,” he breathed into my hair. “We’re gonna end up making a mess of things.”
“I know.”
He squeezed me one more time and then dropped his arms, turning and leaving the room without another look back at me. I was stunned, standing there alone in my room. But after a moment, I put my hand over my heart and smiled.
• • •
I startle when the buzzer sounds the minute I’m done talking, signaling the end of therapy. I feel better, the remembered moments with James enough to make me want to live another day. Even if it’s just today.
I stand to leave when Dr. Warren calls my name. I turn back and she smiles, sliding the Dixie cup with a yellow pill toward me. “You forgot your medication,” she says.
Even though the calming effects of the last pill are still heavy in my system, I get a sudden sense that something is wrong. I look down at the medication, trying to figure out what’s really going on.
“What’s in the pills?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at Dr. Warren.
“I told you, just something to relax you.”
“Then I don’t need it,” I say. “The last dose is still with me.”
Her expression doesn’t falter. “Take the pill, Sloane.”
My heart kicks up its beats, and I move back a step. “No.”
Dr. Warren removes her glasses, setting them beside her before folding her hands on the desk. “This is an important step in your recovery,” she says. “You must take it or we’ll have to give it to you intravenously. And that’s never pleasant.”
“You’d force me?” I ask. Even though I knew the situation all along, knew that I was in The Program against my will, the idea of being physically restrained again is enough to make me panic.
“This is treatment,” Dr. Warren says. “Think of it as your antibiotic. We need to treat the virus, and then you’ll be free of it. Take the pill and go home, Sloane. It’s as simple as that.”
I consider arguing, fighting my way out. But there’s nothing outside this office but the stark white halls of The Program. And so I throw the doctor a hateful glare and lean forward to grab the yellow pill, swallowing it down before walking out.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT’S NEARLY DINNERTIME WHEN NURSE KELL COMES in
to get me, saying that Dr. Warren has denied my request to eat in my room. The nurse helps me get dressed because I’m still groggy from my therapy session. I’m not sure I’ve had one clear moment since coming to The Program.
Nurse Kell holds my arm as we walk to the dining room, and the moving around actually helps me wake up a little. I try to think back on where the day went, but it’s all a blur. “Stop drugging me,” I mumble. “It’s too strong.”
Nurse Kell looks concerned. “Oh, dear. Well, I’ll certainly mention it to Dr. Francis. Maybe he can change your dose.”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling my arm from hers now that I can stand on my own. “I’m sure he will.” I turn away and head toward the serving line, looking over the different foods set out on trays. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to talk. What I want is to take this tray and smash things with it, but I know that won’t get me home any faster.
I grab my food and head to a table in the corner and sit down. I want to go home. I just want to go home.
“Are you going to eat or are you a starver?”
I look up to see the guy from the leisure room, the one who gave me a pretzel, standing at the end of my table with a tray.
“A starver?”
He shrugs. “It’s pretty common around here.”
I glance around, noticing how several patients are just poking at their food with plastic spoons. It makes sense, I guess. With no will to live, why eat?
“How can I resist a menu like this?” I murmur, looking down at my plate. There are chunks of meat and potatoes in gravy, along with a side of broccoli and orange Jell-O.
The guy laughs. “So you’re funny? That’s refreshing. Mind if I sit?”
I don’t really care either way, so I just shrug. The guy pulls out the chair across from me and then exhales heavily. “My name’s Realm,” he says.
“Realm?” I look at him.
“It’s Mike Realm, but everyone just calls me Realm.”
“So can I call you Mike?”
“Nope.”
My mouth twitches with a smile, but I immediately straighten my expression.
“It’s okay sometimes,” Realm says, grabbing the roll off his tray and dipping it in the mashed potatoes. “Your face won’t break if you smile.”
I look him over. His hair is crazy, but now I see it’s styled that way. The scar on his neck stands out pink against his skin, and he still has shadows under his eyes like he’s been inside too long. But he’s cute—I’m sure under normal circumstances he is.
“If I smile they’ll think they got to me.”
Realm pauses before answering. “And that’s a bad thing? You want to stay here?”
“No. But I don’t want them to win, either.”
“Ah, well, sweetness. You’re gonna have to decide which you want more if you plan on going home.” He takes a bite, chewing slowly before talking to me again. “What’s your name?” he asks. “I tried to steal your chart, but I got busted.”
“You were going to steal it?”
He nods as if he’s proud.
“My name’s Sloane Barstow, but you can call me Sloane.”
“Can’t call you Barstow?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.”
Realm doesn’t go on, and he finishes his food in silence while I pick at mine. “If you eat more,” he says, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, “the drugs won’t hit you as hard. I’m guessing they’ve got you pretty doped up. Keeping you under control.”
“Seeing that I can’t remember large chunks of time, you’re probably right.” I take a bite of my now-cold mashed potatoes.
“What color pills do you take?” he asks, leaning forward on his elbows.
“Red before therapy, yellow after.”
He nods and looks away, fidgeting with the hem of his scrubs.
“And then,” I continue, “there’s what the handler gives me.”
Realm looks up suddenly and tilts his head. “What? What do you mean?”
I take a sip of my milk and flip my gaze over to where the dark-haired handler is standing, not looking at me for once. “The one by the door,” I say behind my cup. “He injects me with sedatives.”
“What?” Realm says loud enough to earn a few stares. “That asshole! What’s he giving you?”
“I don’t know exactly,” I say. “But it pretty much just knocks me out where I stand.”
Realm ducks his head as he lowers his voice. “Are you being serious about this?”
I scoff. “Why would I lie to you? To impress you with my tales of Program misadventures? Yes. He injected me the day I came here, and again in the hall after therapy. I haven’t seen him today, at least not until now.”
“Sloane,” Realm whispers, his dark eyes a different shade of worry. “If he does that again, if he hurts you, you need to tell Dr. Warren.”
“I tried. But she—”
“Tell her I made you tell. She’ll believe me.” Realm looks around then, noticing how others have finished their dinner and are headed out to watch TV or play cards. “I should go,” he says like he doesn’t want to. “But remember, the card game invitation stands, okay?”
I nod, having forgotten until he mentioned it. I watch as he leaves and notice that he goes out of his way to walk past the handler. When he passes, Realm looks sideways at him with a death stare, and for a second I think he’s going to get in a fight. But instead, the dark-haired handler, the one I’m scared of, pushes off from the wall and leaves the room.
It’s odd that Realm has that effect on him, but then again, maybe they’ve gotten into it before. Realm did seem pretty pissed when I mentioned the handler drugging me. I decide then that Realm is someone I should stay close to for a while. At least until I figure out how to navigate The Program on my own.
• • •
“You made it,” Realm calls the minute I stop at their makeshift card table. The other guys stare up at me with eager eyes, but I pretend not to notice. Realm pushes the kid nearest to him over and grabs a chair for me, sliding it in its place.
“I was sitting there,” the other guy says.
“And now you’re not.” Realm collects all the cards, even though it seemed as if they were mid-hand. He starts reshuffling them. I sit next to him, feeling the stares of everyone at the table on me.
“You let her join and not me?” A girl’s voice cuts through the air. A redhead stands across from me, pointing her finger in my direction. “I thought you said no new members, Realm?”
He tilts his head like he’s trying to apologize, but I hear the guy next to me suppress a laugh. “My darling Tabitha,” Realm begins, “I’ve told you that we are very exclusive. But I promise, if Sloane drops out, you can have her spot.”
She shoots me a vicious glare. “Oh, I—” I start to say as I stand, but Realm catches my thigh and eases me back down. When I look at Tabitha again, her eyes are angry.
“Whatever. You’re a bunch of losers anyway.”
“Nice chatting with you, Tabby,” one of the guys at the table calls out as she walks away.
“Don’t mind her,” Realm says as he deals the hand. “She’s always bitchy, and no, she’s not going to do something horrible to you later. She’s going to forget. She always forgets, which is why we don’t let her play. She can never remember the rules.”
Something about the coldness of this statement hits me, and I’m ready to run away. Realm must notice because he looks at me. “It’s a side effect of her suicide attempt. She took QuikDeath and, even though they revived her, she has some brain damage. She’s getting better, though, which is why she remembered me saying she can’t play. But twenty bucks says she’s back here tomorrow asking why you can play and she can’t.”
“Enough whispering,” the guy next to me says. “Deal the cards.”
Realm smiles at him, and then grabs a pretzel and balances it between his lips. “Boys, this is Sloane. Hands off.”
They all laugh, shooting odd looks
at Realm, and I wonder if I’ve somehow been claimed. But then Realm introduces me to Derek and Shep. They seem all right—although Shep’s BO is a little strong next to me. He’s fifteen, and Derek is seventeen. They’ve all been here close to three weeks, hoping to get out in six. From what I can tell they look pretty balanced, other than the fact that Shep is scratching absently at his thigh to the point where I think he’s going to draw blood from underneath his scrubs.
Realm offers me a pretzel, but I shake my head. “So what’s the game?” I ask as they pick up their cards. Realm smiles, not looking at me.
“What else? Bullshit.”
They all start laughing, and I remember the game from junior high. James, Brady, and I would sit around my kitchen table and play when my parents were out. Sometimes Lacey would come by and join us.
James used to be the master at this game. He knew just how to act and would trick us all into calling bullshit, only to prove he was telling the truth. Thinking about that now, my cards shake in my hand.
“You know how to play?” Realm asks.
I nod but can’t answer.
“Bullshit, Sloane!” James would yell out, slapping his hand on the table. “You are the worst liar ever!” He and Brady would laugh hysterically, and I wouldn’t even bother flipping over my cards. I would just pick up the deck. It got to the point where I wouldn’t try to lie because James would always bust me. Every time.
“Your turn,” Realm says, nudging my elbow.
I glance at my hand and see that I’m supposed to come up with a ten. I have the ten of clubs, but I pull out a two of diamonds and set it down. “One ten,” I say.
There’s only the briefest moment of silence before Shep moves next to me. “One jack,” he says. Derek goes after him and the game continues, but I stare at my ten.
There’s no one to call me on my bullshit anymore.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Program Page 11
