The Program (The Program #1)(28)

When I take in a breath, it’s a wheeze so filled with pain that the room goes silent. People turn to watch me as I stumble over to pick up my ring from the floor, so bright and hopeful on the linoleum tiles. The corner of the heart is chipped.

“Honey?” the woman behind the desk asks, the worry thick in her voice. I know I should pull myself together and answer. That I have to. But instead I walk out the door, wishing for the day to end.

• • •

The first time James kissed me we were at the river after my brother had bailed on us to go meet his girlfriend, Dana. James asked me to go with him anyway, and although I was nervous, I went. It’d been nearly three months since my feelings for him changed, since I’d noticed him.

I sat on a towel, skipping stones as James swam out to the small boat dock and did backflips into the water, the sun glistening off his skin. When he came back over to me, he was shivering. “Warm me up, Sloane,” he said playfully, and got down on my towel, his dripping body cold.

“You’re all wet.” I laughed, trying to push him off as he tackled me.

“Now you are too.” He used the bottom of my shirt to wipe his face, and I giggled, pulling it out of his hands. I was on my back and he hung above me, resting on an elbow, grinning down madly. “That’s probably the closest you’ll ever come to swimming,” he said and shook his wet hair out, spraying me with droplets of water.

I held up my hands defensively, but when he stopped, his smile started to fade. He was watching me, almost curiously. I furrowed my brow. “What?” I asked.

“Would you let me kiss you?”

Tingles raced over my body and I felt my cheeks warm. I didn’t know what to say . . . so I just nodded. James grinned, looking nervous. He leaned closer, stopping just when his lips touched mine. I was so scared of what would happen next. My first kiss.

“This is probably a big mistake,” he murmured, and slid his hand into my hair, cupping the back of my neck.

“I know.”

And then his lips pressed against mine, hot and soft. My arms wrapped around him and I pulled him down and he kissed me harder, his tongue touching mine. It was the most amazing feeling in the world, like an out-of-body experience. We kissed forever, or at least until the sun started to set.

When we finally stopped, James collapsed on his back, staring up at the sky. “Well, damn, Sloane.”

I laughed, touching my lips with my finger. They felt swollen, but alive. Tingly. “That was fun,” I managed to say.

James turned and looked over at me. “You know I’m never going to be able to not kiss you again, right?” he said. “For the rest of my life, every time I look at you, I’ll have to kiss you.”

I smiled. “The rest of our lives is a long time, James. I’m sure there will be other lips.” The minute I said it, I hated the words. But James just slowly shook his head.

“Naw,” he said, rolling to lean over me once again. “These are the only ones I’ll ever want.” And he kissed me again.

Maybe that’s why I find myself at the river now, sitting on the bank watching the water. James had meant what he said, but that part of his life is over. Now he’s someone else. Now my lips aren’t his anymore.

He captured me that day. I’d liked him before, but after that, I couldn’t go back to avoiding him. We spent every second we could together, even if no one knew. I wonder if things would have turned out differently if we’d told Brady. But then I wonder if my brother hung on as long as he did for us, to make sure we were okay.

It was two weeks after my brother died when James told me that he loved me. That he’d never leave me. That he would save us both. He promised.

He promised.

• • •

My parents ask about James, and I tell them he looks great. I smile. I joke that maybe he’ll be good at math now. It’s so fake that I see my mom and dad exchange a frightened glance, and then I excuse myself to my room. While I lie on my bed, I consider never leaving it again. But what good would that do? The handlers would just come and take me.

When I get up in the morning, I slip into a pair of jeans and a mismatched pair of socks. I don’t bother brushing my teeth or combing my hair. I stare at the cereal in my bowl, not wanting to eat. Not wanting to feed this body. The idea of wasting away sounds so good that when my mother isn’t looking I dump the food into the sink and leave the house.

I skip school. I can’t even think about meeting with the therapist. Listen to the “good side” of The Program. Lie about how I feel about James being back. I won’t go back to the Wellness Center again. I don’t want to see James washed out. In a few weeks, he’ll start talking, maybe even smile at someone. I wonder what I’ll do if he gives another girl a plastic heart ring.

James doesn’t know me, not even a flicker of recognition. It’s like I never existed. We had so many secrets together and now they’re just mine. The weight of them is too heavy for me to carry.

I park outside of a farm and take out a notebook, writing down my feelings. I have no one to tell anymore—not one person I can trust. I’m so alone it’s like being dead but still conscious. In forty-five minutes, I’ve scribbled down so many words that they start to lose meaning.

Kiss, death, love, loss . . . the words are crashing into each other, and my tears soak the page. Then I give into the urge to cross off the words, pressing harder with each pass, making large circles. Soon I’ve gone through all the pages and I’m digging into the cardboard cover. I press so hard it’s going through to my lap, scraping against my jeans. My skin. I press as hard as I can, and I whimper because it hurts. But I don’t care. I can’t care anymore.