The Complication (The Program #6)(6)

“I’m trying to save him,” she says in a low voice. Pleading.

“Then I guess you should have saved him from The Program in the first place,” I reply coldly. “Because right now he wants you to leave him alone.” I turn back to Wes, willing him to get up. “Come on,” I say to him, hoping he’s all right.

For his part, Wes looks confused, his easygoing attitude troubled. I watch the clouds gather on his face. I say his name, and he stands up, avoiding my eyes. Avoiding Dr. Wyatt’s glare.

He walks to open the door and leaves without even a backward glance. When I go to follow him, Dr. Wyatt calls my name.

“I hope you feel better,” she says disingenuously, knowing I was lying in the first place. I narrow my eyes and turn around.

“I already do,” I respond. “But thanks for your concern.”

She smiles, motioning that I can leave. I walk out hurriedly, but when I get into the main hall, Wes is already gone.





CHAPTER THREE


I GO THROUGH THE REST of my morning haunted by the expression on Wes’s face after Dr. Wyatt confronted him. I shouldn’t have gone searching for him—rationally, I know that. But if I hadn’t been there, how far would Dr. Wyatt’s interrogation have gone?

Unless . . . I made it worse by showing up. Maybe I always make it worse for him.

When it’s nearly lunch, I walk down the hall as text messages from Nathan blow up my phone. I’m filled with dread. I don’t want to see Nathan right now, but I’ll have to make an excuse to get away from him. And I’ll have to be convincing.

I take a cautious look around, expecting to find strangers watching me—handlers everywhere. My attempt at normalcy is hanging on by a thread.

The hall is filled with students rushing for the parking lot. Lunch recently became open campus, despite the best efforts of a handful of overprotective parents. Even though the school has instituted a monitor, all the newspapers have claimed the epidemic is over. A new board member even suggested that keeping us locked in school could cause further damage. The tide seems to be turning in our favor—at least in public.

But with returners getting sick, I’m not sure how long that good faith will last.

My stomach knots when I see Nathan waiting at my locker, looking down at his phone. For the past few weeks, we’ve been going to Campus Inn for lunch, but I won’t eat with him today. I’ll have to find a way to convince him it’s not because he destroyed my world this morning—even though that much should be obvious.

“Hey,” he says when he sees me. He holds up his phone. “I’ve been texting you.”

“Sorry,” I reply. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” he repeats, studying me. “You took off after class. You didn’t answer my texts. I’m assuming you went looking for Wes. Did you find him?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t,” I lie. “He must have left for the day.” I don’t tell him about Dr. Wyatt, even though Nathan should be the first person I discuss it with. But I don’t trust him; it’s horrible to say. It’s unthinkable. Right now, I don’t trust him, so I don’t tell him that the monitor scared the shit out of me. Or that she might have hurt Wes by bringing up The Program.

Nathan shakes his head. “Nah, I saw Wes walking to class last hour,” he says. “He didn’t even look at me. He really must not remember anything.”

His words sting me—part of that “anything” is my long-term relationship with Wes—and I move past Nathan to spin the combination on my locker.

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching to touch my forearm in apology. Normally it would be comforting, but after everything it feels more like emotional manipulation.

“I’m fine,” I say, turning so that his hand falls away. I’m still trying to figure out how to be on my own for lunch, when Nathan sighs.

“This is really bad timing,” he says. “But would you hate me if missed lunch today? Jana’s not feeling well and asked for a ride home.” He nods down the hall, and I see Jana at her locker, waiting for him.

I nearly sway with relief but quickly catch myself. “Of course not,” I say. “I hope she feels better.”

Nathan waits a beat. “That’s it?” he asks. “You’re not going to give me a hard time about ditching you?” He narrows his eyes. “You’re not even going to call me an asshole?”

“We need something to do later, right?” I say, and try to smile. When he doesn’t buy the act, I shift tactics. “Your girlfriend is sick—I get it. You don’t owe me an explanation. But if it helps, I really do think you’re an asshole.” I smile winningly.

“There it is,” he says. “But if you need me, I’ll stay. Today has been . . .” He pauses. “It’s been a weird day for you. I don’t want to just—”

“Nathan,” I say, putting my palm on his chest and pushing him back a step toward Jana. “I’ll be fine. Between Wes, The Program, and those damn assessments . . . I might just lose my mind. I’m tired of talking about it, thinking about it. So I’m going to work on my and Foster’s missing labs this hour. It’ll be a nice distraction. Just call me when you get back, okay?”