The Program (The Program #1)(34)

“I’m guessing another kicked-dog joke would be in bad taste, right?”

I don’t turn toward the guy’s voice, and instead continue to stare outside. I might even appear catatonic.

“Are you always so mean?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer automatically. I wish he would go away. I wish they all would go away.

“Charming. So anyway, I brought you this and wanted to invite you to our card game tonight if you’re up for it. But leave your horns and pitchfork behind.” He sets a large pretzel stick on the table next to me and I look at it, but not at him. “Very exclusive card game, I might add.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

I lean over and pick up the pretzel stick, examining it for a second before taking a bite. I say nothing and go back to watching the darkening clouds outside of the window. I hope it rains soon.

“You’re welcome,” the guy says, sounding defeated. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

I wait until he’s gone before looking up. He’s on the couch with a red-headed girl, laughing hysterically, as if we weren’t in The Program. As if this was a party in someone’s parents’ basement.

The pretzel becomes dry in my mouth and I think I might choke on it. And just then, the guy glances over his shoulder at me, his dark eyes concerned, and I turn away again.

• • •

“When did you and James start dating?” Dr. Warren asks. I sit back, looking her over as the medication makes the edges of my vision hazy. The doctor has her hair pulled up into a bun, her makeup and pantsuit paired nicely. She’s perfect. She’s fake.

I’ve been in The Program for close to a week now. I take the pills when they’re offered, opting to sleep rather than live an actual life. Even though I don’t trust Dr. Warren—not even a little—I took the pill sitting on her desk when I walked in. In therapy, it’s like my past is more attainable, as if the medication can help me zero in with clarity. And when I’m with James in my head, I’m not so lonely anymore.

“I don’t feel like talking today,” I say, wanting to keep the thoughts to myself.

She sighs. “That’s understandable. But I’m just really curious about you two. He’s such a source of anger.”

“No, he’s not,” I say instantly. “He’s the only thing I care about anymore.”

“But you’re angry.”

“Because you took him. You changed him.”

“I didn’t do those things. James was at another facility. But I’ve had a chance to look through his file.” She lowers her voice. “It says that James attempted suicide in The Program. Would you rather he was dead?”

Her words cut through me and I touch my chest, startled. James tried to kill himself ? Oh my God, the thought of it, just the thought makes tears stream from my eyes. “No,” I whisper. “I wouldn’t want him dead.”

“That’s good, Sloane,” she says, like it answers a question. “That how you’re supposed to react when someone wants to kill himself. Now, tell me more about James. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

I sniffle, putting my forearm over my face as I think back on my and James’s life together. “I used to avoid him,” I start, relaxing into the medication. “He’d be at the house with Brady, and I would duck out of the room, or just pretend he wasn’t there. A few times he asked if I was okay, but I couldn’t look him in the eyes after the camping thing. Brady told me I was acting weird.” I laugh softly and lower my arm, remembering the face my brother would make when he said it.

“After a few weeks,” I continue, “James got annoyed. He even paid Brady five bucks to get him to call me into the room with them. I thought he was making fun of me, but when I stormed off, things changed.”

“How so?” Dr. Warren asks.

“James followed me upstairs, telling my brother he was coming to apologize. When he knocked on my door, I didn’t want to let him in at first. But he said please.” I smile, still able to hear his voice in head. Hear the soft, desperate way his words struck my heart. I was helpless to resist him, even then.

I wait before telling Dr. Warren the rest, wait as the drugs course through my veins, enveloping me in calm. I want to tell her everything. But first, I relive the moment for myself, seeking my own safe place in The Program.

• • •

When I opened my bedroom door, I found James leaning against the frame, looking utterly miserable.

“You hate me,” he said.

“No.”

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

I was thrown off, and looked past him into the hall to make sure no one was around. “What do you care?” I asked. “You already told me I wasn’t allowed to . . .” I motioned between the two of us, my face burning with embarrassment.

“Yeah, I say a lot of stupid things, Sloane. Why did you listen to that one?”

I stepped back then, confused. Was he . . . ? Did he . . . ?

James pushed my door open wider and walked in, closing it behind him. I stared at him, not sure what he was going to do.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I don’t want to like you.” My heart sunk. “I don’t even want to notice you’re pretty. I want to tackle you in the dirt and make fun of your hair. I shouldn’t be thinking about putting my arms around you. And I sure as hell shouldn’t be thinking about kissing you right now.”