The Program

by Suzanne Young

  “You’ve done well,” Kevin tells me as we walk. “I’m honestly impressed with the progress you’ve made so far. Not all returners are so cooperative.”

  “Thanks,” I say, the pass burning a hole in my hand, proving that his trust is misplaced. “I appreciate you saying that.”

  “Realm told me you were remarkable in The Program, and now I see it.” He pauses. “You know, I was at your house that day. I was one of the handlers who brought you to the facility,” he says softly. “And you were . . . really sick. I’m so glad to see you healthy now. I’ve really been pulling for you.”

  I can feel the color drain from my face when he says this. “You were there?” is all I can mumble. Oh, God. They took me from my own house?

  Kevin nods and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I was. And when Realm contacted me about your release, I was hesitant. I didn’t think you’d be a good candidate, but now I see it. You’re very clever.”

  “Candidate for what?”

  Kevin motions toward the office door as if reminding me that I have therapy. As he holds it open, he smiles. “I’ll have Realm get in touch with you soon,” he says. “I think that’d make you both pretty happy.”

  “I would love to see him.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He leaves, but I’m stunned, standing in the middle of the front office. Kevin has seen a side of me that I can’t remember. He said I’d been really sick. I can’t even picture it.

  “Can I help you?” the secretary asks, startling me.

  I look at her and then check back over my shoulder to make sure Kevin is gone. When I’m sure he is, I smile. “Hi,” I say. “Mr. Bellis wanted copy paper?”

  • • •

  I hurry through the empty halls and stash the ream of paper in my locker. My heart is racing with the worry of getting caught, but I feel alive right now—as if I’m escaping more than just fifty minutes of class. I start toward the back door, hoping to sneak through it toward the far lot.

  When I get outside, I remember about the football field. “Damn it,” I murmur. Even though sports aren’t played anymore, they’ve kept the lawn intact, even mowing it short. But it rained heavily last night and the field looks half-flooded. It’s the only way to the far lot unless I walk around the building, possibly getting seen by the front office. I sigh and move closer to the field to check it out.

  The air around me is warm from the sun. It smells new and clean, and I’m suddenly reminded of the times I spent camping with Brady. Sometimes it would pour rain, and we’d be stuck in the tent, playing cards and eating beef jerky. It was still fun, though. We always had fun.

  As my sneaker squishes in the wet earth, I think about how much I miss Brady. It’s like my memories of him end with us happy. Just happiness and then he’s gone, a quietness in its place. I wonder how I handled losing him. My mother said it was tough on me, but I wonder if I was brave. Or I wonder if his dying was what finally broke me.

  “Sloane!”

  I jump and spin around, nearly wiping out on the field as I see James jogging up, his cheeks pink from running. The sun reflects off his hair, casting him in gold. I hate how gorgeous he is.

  “Are you trying to get me in trouble?” I ask the minute he’s in front of me, breathing hard. I look behind him to make sure no one’s watching, but he just smiles.

  “Define trouble.”

  I shake my head and turn, starting across the field, even though my sneakers are getting sucked into the mud. “Freaking hell,” I say, trying to jump from grass patch to grass patch.

  “So you skip class too?” James asks.

  “Obviously. But I don’t try to get caught by yelling people’s name across the field.”

  “Are you pissed because I had a minibreakdown in the car?”

  I stop, and James bumps into the back of me, nearly sending me headlong into the mud. I grab for his shirt and he grabs for my hand and soon we’re both off balance. When we’re finally standing straight, our feet are practically on top of each other’s, James holding me by the wrist. I worry that someone will see us like this. He shouldn’t be this close. And he definitely shouldn’t be looking at me like that.

  “I have to go,” I say, yanking away. Only when I do, James’s foot slides in the mud and then he’s falling back, landing faceup in a pile of mud.

  “I am so sorry!” I say, putting my hand over my mouth. But instead of jumping up and trying to clean himself off, James starts laughing hysterically.

  “You did that on purpose,” he says. “You’re so dead.” He gets up, trying to grab for me, but his knee slides, and he ends up sprawling out on his stomach, covered in mud from head to toe. “Oh my God,” he says. He rolls over and lands with a splat right next to my feet, and I can’t stop myself from bursting out laughing.

  “You laughing at me?” he asks, still staring up at the sky.

  “Yes,” I say immediately. “I absolutely am.”

  He lifts his head, mud smeared on his ear, and grabs my pant leg. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  He knots the jean fabric in his fist, yanking on it playfully. “Do you like getting dirty?”

  “I will beat you senseless.” I see where he’s smeared mud on my clothing already. I’m afraid he might actually drag me down with him. “I have no problem kicking your balls,” I add.

  He chuckles and pulls me again, making me stumble, but I correct myself before I fall. Around us the world smells like earth and life. I try to pull from his grasp without letting my other sneaker slip in the mud.

  “James,” I say calmly, “let me go or I swear I’ll scream.”

  “Really? You would get me thrown back into The Program?”

  And when I think about it, I know I wouldn’t. I kick his hand and yank back, but my other sneaker flips out from under me and I fall.

  James swears and moves quickly, trying to catch me, but I’m faceup in the mud before he can. The cool, mushy earth surrounds me as I catch my breath.

  “Sloane?” James is kneeling next to me, looking concerned. “I wasn’t really going to pull you into the mud.”

  I stare back at him, my fingers digging into a clump of mud at my side. James actually looks worried. He’s such an idiot. With a fierce right hook, I smash a handful of mud on the side of his face, catching him completely off guard as he falls to his side. The minute he’s down I start taking clumps of mud and grass and throwing them at him, burying him.

  He’s laughing, bits of dirt on his teeth before he sits up and lunges, tackling me. “You’re nuts,” he says. “Oh, and I think you’re hungry.” He’s got me pinned, my ears half-buried in the mud, blocking out the sound of his threats.

  He holds up a huge handful of mud, his own face covered nearly completely. He looks ridiculous, his blue eyes standing out against the dark dirt. He holds the mud over my face, little bits of dirty water dripping on my cheek. “You’re going to eat this,” he says.

  “Don’t!” I’m half laughing, half begging, trying to turn my face so he won’t stuff the dirt into my mouth.

  James takes both my hands in one of his, pining them over my head as he moves to straddle me, wiping the mud on my neck, smearing it with his fingers.

  “Ew!” he says dramatically. “This must feel so disgusting.” He shoves it down the front of my shirt.

  The mud is cold and slimy, and I turn from left to right trying to get away from it, giggling the entire time.

  “You pushed me in the mud,” he says, grabbing another big handful from next to my face. “Then you threatened my balls. I think you should pay, don’t you?”

  “No!”

  James lets my hands go, but doesn’t get up. He’s so proud of himself, having pinned a girl half his size, but I don’t point this out. He exhales and throws the clump of mud off to the side, looking down at me as if he doesn’t know what to do with me now.

  “You’re a vicious little thing,” James says as he finally crawls off me. �
�You would have really hurt me if I let you.” His sneakers make a sucking noise as he stands up. When he holds out his hand to me, I look at it doubtfully.

  “Truce?” he asks.

  “Whatever.” I take his hand and let me him help me up, even let him hold my arm as we make it across the muddy field, heading toward the back end of the parking lot.

  “You’re filthy,” he says, like it’s a surprise, pausing at his car. “You should let me drive you home.”

  “And what about our clothes?” I ask, when I stop outside the passenger door.

  “If it were my car, you’d have to ride home naked.” He smiles at the idea. “But since it’s my dad’s, I don’t care if it gets dirty.”

  I decide to at least take off my cardigan, leaving the muddy tank top underneath. James takes off his shirt altogether, and I try not to notice. I have to try pretty hard. When we sit in the car and turn to each other, we both crack up.

  “Maybe you could spray me down with your hose before I head home?” James asks, starting the car.

  “Like a dog.”

  “You can scratch my belly if you want.”

  “Gross.”

  • • •

  When we get to my house, my parents are just climbing out of their car. I forgot it was their support group day and they’d be home early. As we stop at the curb, James laughs. “Good thing you didn’t really ride home naked.”

  “Not sure this is much of an improvement.” I flip down the mirror and see my mud-covered skin and then glare at James. “I think you’re a bad influence,” I tell him.

  He grins. “I hope so.”

  I shake my head and start to open the door. “It might be weird if I spray you down on my front lawn while my parents watch,” I say. “Although you strike me as an exhibitionist.”

  “Oh, I am. But that’s fine. I’ll wash up at home.”

  I get out, but before I close the door, James calls my name. “What?” I ask, a smile teasing my lips.

  “It was a good day,” he says simply. “Thanks.”

  I agree, then close his door, watching as he drives off. I almost wish I’d stayed in the car. That was . . . nice. In a really strange and dirty way.

  “Sloane?” my mother calls, her voice tight. When I turn, the looks on my parents’ faces are almost comical in their confusion.

  “Sorry,” I say, although I don’t sound it. “I fell in the mud, and James brought me home.”

  “James?” my mother says, exchanging a concerned glance with my father. It stops me cold.

  “What?” I ask.

  “It’s just . . .” My mother pauses as if debating something. “Sloane, you’re not supposed to date after—”

  “Oh, we’re not,” I say quickly. “It’s not like that.”

  My mother lets out a held breath. “That’s good. We just want to keep you safe, honey.”

  Her tone is tense, but rather than press her, I go inside to clean up. I don’t want to ruin my first fun day in what seems like forever. Or at least, the first one I can remember.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I’M SURPRISED WHEN I WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING to find Kevin waiting at my front door. I thought we’d gotten past the escorting me to school stage of our relationship. “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “We just want to make sure you’re not doing anything to jeopardize your health, Sloane,” my mother says calmly. “So I’ve asked Kevin to watch you a little more closely.” I step back from her as if I’ve been slapped in the face.

  “You called the handler on me?” I turn to Kevin. “And what did she say? That I was smiling too much?”

  Kevin bristles. “She said you were riding around with James Murphy. Is that true?”

  My first instinct is to deny it, but I know there’s no use. “So? We’re friends.” My mother tsks next to me as if I’m confirming her fears. Kevin tilts his head like he’s disappointed.

  “This is your warning, Sloane,” he says firmly. “You’re not to have contact with Mr. Murphy anymore. Do you understand?” Kevin looks completely serious, and I think that I’ve killed whatever bond we had. He doesn’t trust me anymore, and like he’d told me before, his main objective is to keep me well, not to help me break the rules.

  “Yes,” I say to Kevin, the bitterness clear in my voice. I look over at my mother then, anger rolling over me. “I just got home and already you’re trying to get rid of me?” The minute the words are out, I regret them as her face falls.

  But instead of apologizing, I straighten my back and walk out, leaving Kevin to trail behind me.

  • • •

  My handler takes the seat next to me in math class, blocking my view of James. I’m so surprised by Kevin’s change in demeanor that I don’t bother talking to him. He’s like a real handler now.

  I wonder if James has been warned as well, especially with how severe a reaction Kevin is having. Then again, if they’d ordered James to stay at least fifty feet away from me, it’d probably make him want to talk to me more, so I smile. I’d thought that maybe he was a jerk, or difficult. But after yesterday, I feel light. As if James reminded me what it was like to have fun again.

  After class, I walk down the hallway with Kevin carrying my books like I’m helpless, when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I’m not sure who would text me other than my mother, and I definitely don’t want to talk to her. But then I see James down the hall, leaning against the lockers. He’s got a phone in his hand, twisting it between his fingers as if he’s waiting for something.

  “I have to run to the bathroom,” I say to Kevin, catching him by surprise.

  “But—”

  “Does The Program limit how many times I can relieve my bladder now?” I ask.

  Kevin smiles. “No,” he says. “That still belongs to you. I’ll wait for you though.” He stands at my locker and I cross the hall, rushing into the girl’s bathroom. Once inside a stall, I take out my phone.

  I THINK YOU HAVE AN ADMIRER. HE LOOKS GOOD IN WHITE.

  I don’t recognize the number, but I know it’s James. I lean against the wall and respond: WELL, APPARENTLY YOU’RE BAD NEWS. NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK YOU AGAIN. EVER.

  I bite my lip, wondering how he’ll answer. If he’ll say that maybe they’re right, that we shouldn’t be around each other. But my phone vibrates instantly.

  YEAH. THAT’S PROBABLY NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. WANT TO SKIP OUT?

  I laugh, thrilled at how quickly he dismissed the idea. HOW?

  I’LL DISTRACT YOUR BOYFRIEND. MEET AT MY CAR IN TEN?

  God, James is going to get me flagged. But at the same time, I can’t help it. I really, really want to leave with him right now. And my mother . . . How dare she turn me in. I’m so mad at her I almost want to get caught just to spite her.

  But I push that idea away, knowing that I don’t want to go back to The Program. I couldn’t do it again, especially without Realm. I close my eyes, my heart racing in my chest. I want to go with James. But it’s too early to use another pass. They’ll be suspicious.

  I CAN’T RIGHT NOW, I type back. ANOTHER TIME?

  James doesn’t answer right away, and I worry that he’s annoyed or that he’s already started some elaborate plan to get us out. I wonder how much longer I should wait when a message pops up.

  ANOTHER TIME.

  • • •

  “Your handler looks like he’s got a stick up his ass today,” Lacey says. She reaches into her lunch bag, but instead of taking out cupcakes, she holds a shiny red apple. When she sees me notice, she bites into it. “Need to watch my figure.”

  “You look great,” I tell her, but she waves me away.

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” she says. “What did you get busted for? I’ve seen him crowding you today.”

  I sigh. “It might have been because I was with James Murphy yesterday. And when he dropped me off he was shirtless and covered in mud. But nothing happened.”

  “Clearly.”

  I smile, but soon it f
ades as I think about how Kevin found out. “My mother betrayed me,” I say quietly. “She called the handler on me.”

  “Whoa,” Lacey says. “That’s pretty harsh.” We don’t talk for a while as I pick at my food and Lacey polishes off her apple. When we’re both done, she meets my eyes from across the table. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know what I’d do if my parents did something like that to me. It’s . . .” She exhales. “I’m just sorry.”

  I smile gratefully and let the conversation ease back into normal things. Lacey is going out of town this weekend with her new, older boyfriend. I’m a little envious, but I’m glad she seems happy. I run my eyes over the cafeteria until I find the spot where James always sits, but today the seat is empty.

  James is nowhere in sight.

  • • •

  My mother doesn’t speak to me at dinner, which is just as well because I don’t want to talk to her. My father looks between us helplessly, but neither me nor my mother bother to explain. When I’m done, I dump my plate in the sink and go to hide out in my room.

  I read over James’s texts a dozen times, thinking that he’s definitely flirting. He made it sound like they couldn’t keep him away from me, and that in itself is incredibly romantic. Unless I’m reading too much into it, which is entirely possible. Maybe he just likes the challenge of getting around The Program. Or maybe he just wants to piss them off.

  I wonder how he got my number. Like Realm, he might break into things, steal files. I definitely wouldn’t put it past him. James is bad. And that makes him sort of good.

  There’s a noise from downstairs, like a plate breaking. It startles me, and I turn toward my door. My father’s voice is loud, carrying up the stairs as he tells my mother to stop. That she’s causing it. I hold my breath when he says that it’s her fault.

  Are they talking about me?

  I’ve never heard my parents argue before, but it feels familiar somehow. Tears begin to well up in my eyes as emotions flood me, emotions I can’t remember and yet they hurt. They sting. My mother’s voice is barely audible from here, so I ease to the door to listen more closely. Then it hits me—a sudden pain in my head.