The Program

by Suzanne Young

  Your brain is like fine china.

  I open my eyes, squinting as I look out the windshield. I have to find Realm. Something is wrong with me. I think I’m breaking.

  • • •

  It’s dark as I drive up Realm’s long driveway, my headache finally resolving into a bearable throbbing. It started raining the minute I pulled away from James’s house—a sign of things to come, I guess. Now the pattering on my windshield comes harder. I hope Realm’s home. He has to be.

  I knock impatiently on the door, soaked from the walk to his porch. My shirt clings to me, and my pulse is loud in my ears as the headache continues, making me weak all over. When I hear the locks click, I practically push my way in.

  “Sloane?” Realm stands there, rubbing at his hair, wearing just pajama pants and a terrified expression. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m falling apart,” I tell him, sounding desperate. “I’m completely falling apart.”

  “Sweetness.” Realm hugs me, and I put my cheek against the warm skin of his chest. “Sit down,” he says, leading me to the couch. Outside, thunder booms in the sky, but Realm’s living room is warm with the remains of a fire burning out. He sits next to me as I continue to shake, my wet clothes uncomfortable. “What’s going on?” he asks.

  “Headache,” I say. “And pain in my chest as if my heart is being torn out. It’s overwhelming. I don’t think I can survive it.”

  “Shh . . . ,” Realm says. “Of course you can. You survived The Program, didn’t you?” He pauses, letting out a harsh breath. “Is this because of what I told you about Brady? Did I cause this?”

  “No. It’s not your fault. I asked my dad, and he confirmed that my brother killed himself.” I close my eyes, hating saying the words out loud. “And then I went to the Wellness Center, and this guy said I was nothing without my memories.” I look up to meet Realm’s gaze. “Am I nothing?”

  “No. You’ve just been cured.”

  Cured. There was a time when I felt lucky to have been spared from the epidemic. But now it’s left me a bundled mess, lost in my own life. “That guy from the center,” I say. “He died in front of me tonight—QuikDeath. Afterward I went to tell James, but he was so cruel. Distant. And I don’t know why, but it crushes me, the way James acts sometimes.” I pause. “That’s when the headache got worse, and the pain in my chest started. God, Realm. It’s like I’m losing my mind.”

  Realm stares into his lap, his brow furrowed as if he’s thinking. When he doesn’t say anything, I take his hand. “Why do I hurt so badly?” I ask. “I haven’t seen this in any other returners. I think I need my memories back.”

  “You don’t,” he says. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

  I look at his downcast dark eyes, his scarred neck. I think about how he loves me, how he saved me in The Program too many times to count. My head pounds, my body aches, but I think that in this moment, maybe what I need is for someone to care about me.

  So I lean forward and kiss him, ignoring the sharp guilt that attacks my conscience. I push it away and let my mouth capture Realm’s. It takes a second for him to react, and then he’s kissing me, his hand around my waist as he pulls me onto his lap, peeling off my wet shirt.

  I want to forget about everything. I want to forget about James.

  My chest fills again with jagged pain, but then Realm rolls me off the couch, getting on top of me as we lie on the carpet. He’s kissing my neck, his hands searching my body as I try to feel him. Feel what it would be like to be with him.

  But I’m a million miles away, and all I feel is lost and abandoned. I’m alone.

  Realm’s mouth stops at my ear, panting wildly. I realize that I’m on my back, staring at the ceiling as tears leak from the corners of my eyes. Realm’s hand slides away from my breast, and he turns me toward him.

  “You don’t want this,” he says, sadness in his voice. “You still love him.”

  His words startle me, but I don’t argue. He’s put a name to the emotion raging inside of me. I know suddenly that I do love someone. Someone else.

  Realm tries to laugh it away, shaking his head. “God,” he says. “He’s such a dick, too.” Realm lies next to me, shoulder to shoulder, as we both gaze up at the wooden-beamed ceiling.

  “It’s James, isn’t it?” I ask softly, not sure what to do now.

  “Yep,” Realm answers. “You love him. Always have. And not being with him is confusing. You may not remember him, but your heart does.” Realm turns his face toward me. “I wanted to be the one to make you happy, but you’ll always be his.”

  I swallow hard, not disbelieving it, but not understanding it either. Loneliness crawls over me. “No,” I say. “That part of my life is over. I don’t think he feels that way about me. At least not anymore.”

  “He does.” Realm sighs. “He definitely does.”

  “Was it because of Brady?” I ask, thinking it’s the clear explanation. “Is that why James was with me, because my brother died?”

  “No. You loved each other. I believe the word you used was ‘madly.’” He pauses. “You’ve always loved each other. You always will.”

  I lie next to Realm, half-naked on his floor, as he tells me that I love someone else—something I can’t remember, but something I can feel. The frustration I came in with eases, although the headache is still there.

  “And my headache?” I ask.

  “Your brain is repairing itself. That one memory you had cracked the smooth sequence of events they placed in therapy. Your mind knows something is wrong. Now it’s slowly binding back together. Let’s just be glad it was one memory, and not all of them.”

  I look sideways at him, wondering if he truly believes that I’m better this way. “Why don’t you want me to remember everything?” I ask. “What could I have told you that was so awful that it’s worth living like this?”

  Realm smiles sadly. “Some things are better left in the past. For all our sakes.” Tears run from his eyes then, and I think about what I’ve done to him tonight, how I’ve wronged him.

  “So if I have these feelings about James, where does it leave you?”

  “In love with a girl who loves another. Very Shakespearean, if you ask me.”

  I lean into him, putting my hand over his heart and wishing I could care about him in the same way. But even now, even when James is still so far away from me, I know that I can’t love Realm. He’s not mine.

  We settle in next to each other, the coals in the fireplace burning out. “The guy that died,” I say quietly. “He said the epidemic is spreading to adults.” Realm tenses. “What happens if that’s true?” I ask.

  “You shouldn’t worry about things like this so soon after treatment,” he says. “You should be focusing on recovery, listening to your handler when he warns you of—”

  It occurs to me that I haven’t told him about Kevin. “Realm,” I say. “They pulled Kevin off my recovery.”

  He looks over at me immediately. “When did that happen?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Realm swears under his breath but then apologizes. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll check into it. I’m sure you’re just too damn healthy to need a handler or something.”

  He lies back, but I notice a crease between his eyebrows as he stares away. I trust him to find out what happened. I think then that I should get up, put my shirt on at least, but instead we stay like this for a long time, not saying anything else.

  • • •

  It’s nearly three a.m. when I get back out to the car, my headache little more than a dull throbbing now. I’d thought Realm would ask me to stay the night, but then he reminded me that my parents would probably report it if they woke up to find me missing. I didn’t want to leave, though. I liked the freedom of being off the grid, if even for a few hours. No one watching me—dissecting my movements. Tomorrow I might have a new handler to face, or at the very least, I’ll have to face my parents. I’ll have to f
ace James.

  Just then my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I smile, thinking it’s Realm, who wouldn’t give me his number but took mine. But when I look at the message, my heart skips a beat. It’s James.

  “Don’t read it, Sloane,” I tell myself, dropping it onto the passenger seat before turning up the radio. I’m finally feeling decent for the first time in a while, and I don’t need him screwing it up. I make it through one light before picking the phone back up and checking it.

  ARE YOU OKAY? FOR YES, FOR NO.

  Idiot. I ignore him, continuing to drive home, thinking about what Realm said. That sometimes it’s better not to know. Maybe I should believe him. He has no reason to lie to me.

  In my lap my phone buzzes with another message.

  I’M IN FRONT OF YOUR HOUSE. COME OUTSIDE.

  What is he doing at my house? I pull to the side of the road to type back a reply. A bitchy one. NOT HOME. JUST LEAVING REALM’S.

  The minute I write it I want to take it back, the spike of guilt slamming me hard. Realm said that I’d loved James. Not just that he was my boyfriend, but that I loved him “madly.” I look at my phone, but it’s silent. I hate myself right now.

  ON A ROMANTIC STORMY NIGHT? I’M SURE THAT DIDN’T GIVE HIM THE WRONG IDEA.

  I groan. THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T CARE? First he pushes me away, and then has the nerve to—

  I DON’T. NIGHT.

  It’s like the bottom drops out, leaving me sick to my stomach. But I know what it is now—the emotion. Should I tell James about our past? Does he even deserve to know that we’d had a relationship?

  I glance at the clock. It’s late, and I decide to shut off my phone, blocking James out of my life. I have to stay away from him. He’s toxic to me. And I don’t want to go back to The Program. I could never get through it again. So I pull back out onto the wet streets and find my way home, sneaking in without my parents ever hearing a thing.

  • • •

  I’m exhausted as I pull into Sumpter’s parking lot before school. There was no handler waiting on my porch when I left, so my mother let me borrow her car. I thanked her, even though it took all my restraint to not call her out on her lies about my brother. Either way, I assume I’m free from monitoring now—although I’ve gotten no confirmation from Realm or The Program.

  When I get out, James is standing next to his father’s car, texting on his phone. Mine vibrates in my pocket, but I don’t even look at it. When I turned it on this morning, I had five missed messages. But even now, I don’t read them and just go inside the school.

  In the past day have you felt lonely or overwhelmed?

  NO. I scan the rest of the questions as I sit in first period and realize that I’m going to have to lie on this entire questionnaire. Filling in the rest, I stop at the last question, taking a breath.

  Has anyone close to you ever committed suicide?

  Yes. My brother—maybe others, too. But what do I fill in? The Program doesn’t think I know. They think they’ve stolen the memories away. I nearly break off the tip of my pencil filling in NO.

  • • •

  “Are you ignoring me?” James whispers as he walks past my desk in math class. He doesn’t wait for me to respond as he goes to sit in his seat, but his tone is clear. He’s annoyed. Well, he can go to hell because I’m not taking the bait this time.

  I stare down at my desk, pretending he didn’t ask, and open my notebook. The class drags on, and I hear someone clear their throat repeatedly from the back. At one point, I sigh heavily and turn around to see James staring at me. I roll my eyes and go back to my math problems.

  My phone buzzes, and I think that I shouldn’t look. That I shouldn’t give in to his tantrums. Discreetly, while the teacher is reading aloud from the textbook about a formula I can’t quite remember, I check my phone.

  YOU LOOK NICE TODAY. OH, AND I’M AN ASSHOLE. SORRY.

  I press my lips together, trying not to smile. I will not let him make me smile.

  NOT ACCEPTED. Way to take the high road, Sloane.

  DID YOUR TONGUE SAY GOOD-BYE TO YOUR FRIEND AGAIN LAST NIGHT? I BET HE LIKED THAT.

  YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T CARE. GET OVER IT.

  MAYBE I’M CONCERNED ABOUT YOUR REPUTATION.

  I stifle a laugh. REALLY?

  NO. I’M JEALOUS.

  I glance over my shoulder at him again, and meet James’s blue eyes. He shrugs, looking a bit pathetic. Like maybe he is actually sorry. I turn back around and put my phone in my pocket, trying to think things over. I know I don’t want to be with Realm, not like that. But honestly, James is a little much for me to handle, especially when he seems to like and then dislike me on a daily basis.

  God, if I just had my memories, I’d understand everything so much more. I’d know what happened to my brother, to me and James. I’d know who my friends are. I’d know what happened with my parents. There’s so much that is just out of my reach, but if I could only—

  The bell rings, startling me. I get up slowly, trying to decide my next move. Just then I see James walk by, a small smile on his lips as he passes. “See you around, Sloane,” he says, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

  And I know from the way my body reacts that Realm was right. I loved James. But maybe we’re better off this way.

  At the end of the day I wander around the halls for a bit, examining everyone as I pass them, trying to discern if I had possibly known them. I’m still getting headaches, but nothing like the one I had last night. I wonder if my brain has nearly finished repairing itself.

  “Took you long enough.”

  I stop a few feet from my locker to see James standing there, looking bored in the now deserted hallway. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I’m sneaking around with you. Let’s go.” He motions toward the back door.

  “Um, no. You were pretty quick to dismiss my feelings last night. Something about not pretending that things were ever good . . .”

  He smiles. “I say stupid things, Sloane. All the time. But maybe the thought of not talking to you again made me crazy. Maybe I couldn’t even sleep. And maybe I’m trying to make it up to you.”

  “By possibly getting me in more trouble?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  And I can’t help it, I laugh. The devious spark in James’s eyes makes me think that trouble from The Program is exactly what he wants. Is that what I’d liked about him before? His defiance?

  “If anyone sees us together, they’re going to call my mom. And then she’ll call The Program,” I say.

  “Then we should hurry up and get out of sight. You ready?”

  I debate whether I want to purposely break the rules even more. Realm told me to stay alive, to stay safe. This could jeopardize both.

  “You will have so much fun with me,” James whispers.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ll try like hell.”

  I sigh, taking one more cautious look around the hallway, and then before anyone can notice, I grab my stuff and follow James out of the school.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “SEE YOU HAVE YOUR DAD’S CAR AGAIN,” I SAY AS we drive.

  “Stole it. He doesn’t like me to take it anymore. Something tells me that he never did, but he was trying to be nice after I got back from The Program.”

  I twist my hands in my lap, not sure if I should bring up our past relationship. I notice as he drives that James has the string from my shirt still around his pinky. “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “There’s this spot I found the other day. It’s . . . beautiful. I wanted to show someone, but, well. I don’t really have any friends.”

  “Maybe it’s your sparkling personality.”

  He laughs. “Come on, Sloane. I’m not that bad, am I?”

  “You’re awful.”

  His smile fades as he seems to think, taking us past fields and pastures. “I don’t like getting hurt,” he says. “I remember that, even from being a kid. I think it has to do with m
y mother leaving—even if I don’t know why or how—but I like to keep everything at a distance. That way it can’t destroy me.”

  “You must have let Brady in,” I say quietly. He must have let me in once too.

  James nods. “And now that relationship is gone and it kind of hurts. Knowing that I had something that isn’t there anymore. It’s like a hole in my chest. Sometimes I think that pain might kill me.”

  I understand what he means. This emptiness that doesn’t seem to have a reason. Something that can’t be filled in. I know now what Realm meant when he said keeping one or two memories could drive you mad.

  James exhales heavily and then goes to turn on the radio. “You’re ruining the fun, Sloane. This was supposed to cheer us up.”

  “You’re right.” I settle back in the seat and watch him for a minute, liking the easy, calm expression on his face, especially when I know there’s something darker underneath. And that maybe the other side of that darkness is fierce love.

  A love he had for me.

  James turns onto a two-lane street, and I notice his arm again, the white scars that are there. Absently I reach out and run my index finger over them, and he takes in a quick breath.

  “Sorry,” I say, dropping my hand. “I’m just wondering what they’re from.”

  “It’s okay,” he says. “When I got back I asked my dad about them. He said I had had an ugly tattoo, and The Program removed it. Strange, right? That they’d just take ink off my body. If I’d known they were going to do that, I might have gotten a special message for them tattooed on my ass.”

  “Graphic.”

  He laughs. “Sorry.” James looks at me, his eyes traveling over me like he’s trying to figure me out. “It felt nice,” he says quietly. “When you touched me like that.”

  Butterflies flutter in my stomach, but James goes back to watching the road. I reach out again, my fingers trembling slightly as I run them carefully over his scars. Tracing the patterns there.

  I watch as his shoulders relax and his mouth softens into a smile. His skin is so warm, and I think that I must have liked touching him before. I lean forward and press a gentle kiss onto his scars. And then I straighten and look out the passenger window, desire filling my entire body.