The Program (The Program #1)(40)

I smile, clenching my teeth so hard I’m afraid they’ll break. A difficult transition? Yeah, that’s a fair assessment. Dr. Francis waits as I go in the bathroom and change into my clean scrubs, wrapping my robe tightly around me. I still try to search my mind for the story of the ring, but I know it’s gone. I’ve lost a piece of James and it’s so devastating that I have to stare at my reflection for nearly a minute before I can pull myself together.

As I head out behind the doctor into the hallway, I keep my mind trained on a single thought, holding it close to me. James, James, James.

CHAPTER SIX

AFTER TIME IN THE EXAMINATION ROOM WITH DR. Francis—just a basic physical and blood test to make sure I’m taking my meds—I’m sent to lunch, where I sit alone in the corner. I drink some juice and take bites from an apple, but don’t bother with anything else. I’m too upset about the ring. When I leave and find myself in the mostly deserted leisure room, I sit again at the window and stare out.

I continually take cautious glances around for Roger, wondering when his slimy self will show up, asking for a trade. Wondering if I could say no when it means keeping a part of myself.

“Psst . . .” I look over my shoulder and see Realm by the door, holding something behind his back. No one else notices him, and I feel myself smile. Come here, he mouths.

I’m not sure I should go, but the room is quiet and I’m bored. I get up to find out what he’s doing. Realm grins madly when I approach, and I follow him into the hall. “Wait here,” he says, poking his head around the corner toward the nurses’ station.

“What’s behind your back?” I ask, trying to look over his shoulder between him and wall.

“Hey, hey, sweetness,” he says, glaring at me. “No peeking.” He checks one more time and then does some weird hand signals like we’re in the military.

“What?” I ask.

“Run.” He rushes ahead of me, and we dash down the hall and through the stairwell door. He eases it shut and I stand there, sort of shocked.

“That was close,” he says.

“What are we doing?”

“Hiding out. I have contraband.”

“But if they find us—”

“They won’t. No rounds for another twenty minutes. Sit.” He points to the stairs behind me.

Since I’ve already broken the rules by coming out here, I sit down on the concrete, crossing my legs as I stare at him. “Now will you show me what you have behind your back?”

He smiles broadly and pulls out a white bag, the logo on the side unmistakable.

“No way.”

“A little birdie told me you wanted chicken nuggets.”

“Realm! How did you—”

“Shh . . . ,” he says, looking toward the door. “This isn’t on the menu, so if they see it, they’ll take it. Now do you want it or not?”

My brother and I used to beg our parents for McDonald’s every Saturday. We’d have to clean our rooms, do the dishes, all sorts of chores that we totally blew off, knowing our parents would get it anyway because my father was hooked on the fries.

And here in this stairwell, I’ve never been so happy to see greasy food—almost like a little piece of home, which I guess is sad in a way.

Realm comes to sit next to me, reaching in the bag to take out a napkin, which he lays on the stair. He pulls out a box of McNuggets, folding back the cardboard and then dumping some fries in the top.

I immediately dive in, even though I have a ton of questions. “How did you get this?” The food is a little cold but still so good. Better than the mashed and bland starches we’ve been getting here.

“I have a friend who has a friend.” He smiles and puts a fry into his mouth.

“What? Realm, can you get us outside?” I ask, my mind suddenly flooded with dreams of escape. He widens his eyes at my reaction.

“No,” he says. “Of course not. My charms go only so far, and sweet-talking my way into some drive-through isn’t the same as a jailbreak. I just thought . . .” He looks down. “Shit, Sloane. I thought this would cheer you up.”

I feel horrible and ungrateful, and I reach out to touch his hand to get his attention. “Sorry,” I say. “This is awesome. And it does cheer me up.” I force a wide, overly enthusiastic grin. “See?”

Realm chuckles, a soft smile staying on his lips as we go back to eating.

“So how did you know about the chicken nuggets?” I ask, pulling my leg underneath me and settling in.

“Finally got my hands on your chart. Imagine my surprise when Dr. Francis noted that you were craving them. Did you really tell him that?”

“Yes.” I laugh and slap his shoulder. “But you can’t read my chart!”

“I can, but I definitely shouldn’t. You won’t tell on me, will you? Are you a rat, Sloane?” He looks at me suspiciously.

“I’m not going to sell you out, but you have to tell me what you read.”

He stiffens at this, and then scratches his chin. “Um . . . not much.”

A wave of sickness washes over me. “You’re lying.”

Realm’s eyes meet mine. “Who’s James?”

The tender way he asks makes me nearly fall apart. How can I even explain who James is to me? “He was everything,” I say. “And now he’s nothing.” I close my eyes.