The Program (The Program #1)

CHAPTER FOUR

THE MINUTE I GET HOME FROM SCHOOL, I RUN TO my bedroom and begin searching. The place still looks mostly the same as I remember it, except maybe a little cleaner. Although I can tell that things are missing, I have no idea what they could be. I open drawers, push aside the new clothes in my closet, but there are no hints that I ever had a social life. Either I was a nobody, or I had to have the people around me erased.

“Damn it,” I say as I slam the drawer closed. I just wanted something—anything—to give me a clue to what I was like before. I take a minute to look around, see if I missed anything, when I hear my mother call me from downstairs.

“Sloane,” she says. “Dinner.”

I head for the door, disturbed that I didn’t find anything—not even a picture. It’s like someone came in here and swept it all away. What worries me most is the idea that I was ever sick enough to be sent away in the first place. It doesn’t seem possible.

My father is working late, so it’s just my mother and me. I poke at the fried potatoes on my plate. I want to ask her about my past, but I’m afraid that she won’t tell me . . . and that she will. What if knowing really will make me sick again?

“So how was school?” she asks. “Settling in okay?”

“Pretty good, I guess.” I chew slowly. “Mom, what happened to all my clothes?”

“We got you new ones. Do you not like them?”

“No, they’re fine. I just wonder what my old clothes looked like.”

“Pretty much the same. But Dr. Warren suggested that we get you a new wardrobe to give you a fresh start. If you don’t like them, we can go shopping after school.” She smiles. “That might be fun.”

A fresh start. My heart rate begins to speed up. “Great,” I say halfheartedly. “But I was wondering . . .” I swallow hard. “Would you tell me if I asked if I ever had a boyfriend?”

My mother doesn’t noticeably react as she cuts into her chicken. “Sure, honey,” she says, not looking up. “You did date a little, but nothing serious.”

“Oh.” I can’t explain why, but that answer makes me feel bad. “Friends?” I ask. My mother bristles then.

“What’s this about, Sloane? You should be worried about the present, not the past.”

“You’re right,” I say, just to get rid of the crease between her eyebrows. We start eating again, and after a minute, I smile. “Do you know anything about a James Murphy?” I ask, cutting into my meat.

My mother looks up at me. “No. Is he a classmate of yours?”

“We have math together, and my friend said that he’d been in The Program just before me. He sounds kind of bad.” I laugh.

My mother nods, smiling kindly. “Then that should be a real sign to steer clear of him, don’t you think? The last thing you need so soon after returning is more problems. You have to remember that you were unwell, and now you’re cured. You’re not supposed to dwell on the past. You’re supposed to be focused on now.”

“I’m not dwelling,” I say, my face stinging from her scolding me. “I don’t have a past. Can you understand how confusing that is?”

“I’m sure it is. But they took the memories that were corrupted. And if you keep digging around in your head, reality is going to slip away. The doctor told us—”

“How do you know they only took the bad memories?” I challenge. “I can’t remember anything. I don’t even know what happened to Brady, only that he’s dead. What happened to him?”

“He drowned,” my mother answers simply, as if that in itself is an explanation. I knew this already. Dr. Warren had told me in a therapy session. But there were never any details.

“How?”

“Sloane,” my mother says in a warning voice.

“Who’s to say they only erased what they were supposed to?” I ask. “My life has so many holes in it and—”

“This discussion is over,” my mother says quickly. I meet her eyes over the table, and I can see she is in full panic mode. “You tried to kill yourself, Sloane. They told us you were resistant in The Program, too. We could have lost you, just like we lost your brother. The Program kept you alive, and for that I’m blessed. Any inconvenience you may feel now will fade soon enough. And if you just can’t bear it, maybe we should call the doctor and see if there is another treatment available. I can’t go through this again.” She starts to cry. “I just can’t.”

My mother pushes back from the table, leaving her barely touched food behind as she heads toward her bedroom. I feel guilty, as if I’m just a problem that continues to repeat itself.

And so with that, I toss my napkin down and retreat upstairs.

? ? ?

It’s an hour later when my mother knocks at my door, asking if she can talk to me. I let her in, still hating that I upset her. She looks older than she does in my memories, making me think the way I remember things isn’t accurate at all.

“About your brother,” she says, coming to sit next to me on the bed. “It was a very tragic loss, Sloane. One we’d all prefer to forget.”

“What happened to him?” Chills spread over my body. “Brady was a great swimmer. How could he drown?”

“It was a rafting accident. And your doctors had to take the memory because it was very traumatic for you. They felt it contributed to your illness.”

I hadn’t considered that my brother might have hurt himself. Brady wouldn’t do something that selfish. He loved us. We were happy.

“I miss him,” I tell my mother, looking at her.

She blinks back her tears and smiles sadly. “I miss him too. But we had to move on as a family. Your brother drowned in that river and it devastated us. Still, we’ve found our peace again. Please don’t make us relive the pain. Do you promise?”

There’s a tightness in my chest, and I think what she’s asking is unfair, especially because I can’t remember losing my brother. I need a little more closure, a chance to grieve now that I’m home. But instead, I just nod, and she pats my thigh.

“Now,” she says as if everything is cleared up. “Tell me again about all these friends you’re making.”

“Oh . . .” I furrow my brow, surprised by the subject change. “Well, it’s only one friend. The girl Lacey I told you about? She’s really nice. I think you’ll like her.” I’m not sure that’s true, but I’m hoping it’ll make my mother less cautious with me. “I was hoping that maybe she could come over for dinner one night.”

My mother presses her lips together, thinking. “Maybe in a few weeks—when things settle down.”

I don’t like her answer but I don’t tell her.

“And the boy?” she asks offhandedly.

I laugh. “There’s no boy. I was just wondering about someone in my math class. It’s no big deal.”

My mother smiles, but it looks forced, and I feel my heart sink. She’s not going to let Lacey come here, and she certainly isn’t going to let me date anyone—possibly ever. I’m starting to think that I need to find Realm. I’m not sure there is anyone else I can confide in. He’d told me to wait to find him, but I can’t. I need someone to talk to, someone who will understand. I wonder if Kevin will take me to him now.

My mother reaches out to brush my hair behind my ear. “I’m glad we had this talk,” she says, gazing at me lovingly. “We’re so happy to have you home, honey. You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.”

I tell her I missed her, too, but really I’m thinking about the ache that has started deep in my chest, a pain that I can’t place and I can’t understand. It’s like longing, whether for myself or someone else, I don’t know. There is a part of me missing and no matter what I do, I’m not sure I’ll ever fill it.

? ? ?

It’s nearly a week later, and I’m in math class again. Kevin told me that I wasn’t ready to see Realm because I haven’t healed yet, and it’s imperative for my brain to do so. He reminded me that although he’s looking out for me as a favor for Realm, he really is concerned for my health and that it is his first priority.

James Murphy sits in the desk next to me, paying attention as our teacher continues to talk. I lower my head, letting my hair fall forward, blocking the right side of my face enough so that I can stare at James through my dark hair.

The scars on his bicep are white, but they’ve got a weird crisscrossing pattern. I can’t figure out what could have caused that sort of injury, but it’s not angry and pink like a normal scar. Is it a burn?

James glances sideways, catching me looking at his arm. His face is expressionless, and he turns back to the front, as if he didn’t notice me at all. I swallow hard.

I go back to my notebook and copy down a few problems from the board. I look at Kevin, who’s staring out the window, daydreaming. I peek at James again, the thought that he refuses to acknowledge me making me that much more curious about him. And although I’m not checking him out, I do notice how attractive he is—I mean, I can’t really miss it. He isn’t overly styled: in fact, his chin is unshaven, the stubble there a little darker than his hair. When I look at his mouth, there’s a ghost of a smile there, even though he’s staring straight ahead. James leans forward and turns the page of his notebook, jotting something down quickly.

I watch as he turns the spiral-bound notebook sideways, continuing to stare ahead. I’m not sure what he’s doing when he silently taps his finger on the page.

I realize suddenly that he wants me to read it. I lean over slightly.

Why are you staring at me?

He darts a glance in my direction, and I can feel the heat in my cheeks, my embarrassment getting the best of me. I shrug.

James nods and goes back to his notebook, scribbling something else before turning it toward me.

It’s giving me a complex.

A laugh escapes from my lips, and I quickly cover my mouth. Nearly half the class turns toward the sound, but James is the picture of innocence as he flips back to his original page and folds his hands in front of him.

“Is there a problem, Sloane?” the teacher asks. Within seconds Kevin is standing at my side, looking concerned.

“No,” I say. “I’m sorry. I choked on a piece of gum.”

“Perhaps that’s why we don’t allow gum in the classroom,” the teacher responds, sounding annoyed at the interruption.

“Are you not feeling well?” Kevin whispers. “Maybe we should go out into the hall for some air.”

“No,” I say instantly. “I’m fine. Really.”

Kevin shoots a nervous look at James, and then walks to the front and interrupts our teacher midsentence. I don’t dare turn to James, but I can feel him watching me.

“Of course,” the teacher says to my handler. “Sloane, can you come sit in the front, please?”

I gather my things quickly and take an empty desk directly to the side of the teacher. I sit there for the rest of class, feeling kind of humiliated. But maybe just a little bit charmed.

After class Kevin pulls me aside and levels his stare on mine. “What was that about in there?” he asks.

“I laughed. It’s not a huge deal.” I don’t appreciate him being so nosy, but then I think that a regular handler might be a lot more intrusive than Kevin’s being right now.

“Do you know James Murphy?” he asks.

“No.”

Kevin exhales as he straightens. “Then let’s keep it that way. James isn’t the sort you want to get to know, Sloane. I can’t protect you if you’re going to go down that path.”

“And what path is that?”

“A self-destructive one. Just promise me you’ll stay away from him. Please.”

I don’t like being told who I can and can’t associate with. But Kevin’s eyes are pleading with me, so I nod, even though it’s going to be a hard promise to keep.