The Program (The Program #1)(62)

Dr. Warren purses her lips and puts her elbows on her desk, leaning forward. “We want you to live, Sloane,” she says. “We want you to have a full, happy life. We’ve given you the best chance possible by removing the infected memories. Now it’s up to you. But know, if you get sick again, you will be flagged. And then you’ll be required to stay in The Program until you’re eighteen.”

I swallow hard, thinking that my birthday is still seven months away. That would be a long time to be stuck here, especially without Realm. “I understand,” I tell her.

“Good.” She looks relieved as she straightens. “You’ll have a handler assigned to you for the first few weeks, helping you out at school and accompanying you outside of your house. This is a precaution because of your fragile state. Take it easy, Sloane. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’ll try my best,” I say, looking at the clock on the wall and knowing that my parents will be here any minute. I’m leaving. I’m really leaving.

Dr. Warren stands then, walking around her desk to embrace me. We hug awkwardly, and when she lets me go, she rests her hand on my shoulder. “At first,” she says almost in a whisper, “you may be a little distant—a little numb. But that will eventually go away. You will feel again.”

I meet her eyes, doing a quick evaluation of my emotions. I’m complacent and calm, but I wonder how I should really feel.

There’s a quick knock at the door, and Dr. Warren says to come in. Nurse Kell stands there, her cheeks rosy. “Your parents are here, Sloane.” She beams, looking proud. “And the boys wanted me to give you this.” She holds out a small wrapped package, and my eyes water.

“Why didn’t they give it to me themselves?” I ask, walking over to take it from her hands. Both Derek and Shep are still here, but Dr. Warren promised me they’d be going home soon.

She laughs. “Because they said you would probably cry.”

I unwrap the paper and smile at what’s inside. It’s a deck of cards, but the back design says BULLSHIT. I reach out to hug Nurse Kell. “Tell them thank you for me.”

It’s all so surreal. I stand for a moment looking around the office, the time I spent in here a complete fog. I don’t know what I was like before, but I feel okay now. I guess The Program works.

I say good-bye to Dr. Warren and follow Nurse Kell out, a handler trailing us with a small duffel bag. I don’t remember what I wore when I came into the facility, but The Program has provided me with a few outfits—ones I didn’t pick out—to send me home with. Right now I’m wearing a yellow polo shirt, the collar stiff and itchy.

The halls are empty, but I hear a spirited game of cards being played in the leisure room, new members taking our places. When we get out onto the lawn, I see my dad’s Volvo parked near the gate. He steps out, my mother scrambling to get to his side. I pause, looking at them from afar.

“Good luck, Sloane,” Nurse Kell says, brushing my hair behind my ear. “Stay healthy.”

I nod to her, and look at the handler who tells me to go ahead. And then I run across the grass. When I get close enough my father rushes forward, swooping me up into his arms, tears streaming down his face. Soon my mother is hugging both of us and we’re all crying.

I’ve missed them. Missed my dad’s smile and my mom’s laugh. “Dad,” I say when I can finally pry myself away from him. “First things first—let’s get ice cream,” I say. “I haven’t had any since I’ve been here.”

He laughs, a painful sort of sound, as if he’s been waiting to do it for a long time. “Anything, sweetheart. We’re just so happy to have you home.”

My mother touches adoringly at my hair. “I love this,” she says earnestly, as if she hasn’t seen me in years. “You look just beautiful.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I hug her again. My father takes my bags from the handler and puts them in the trunk as I have one last look back the building—back at The Program.

Something catches my eye, and my smile fades. There’s a girl in the window, sitting on a chair with her arms wrapped around her knees. She’s pretty and blond, but she looks lonely. Desperate. And I can’t help thinking that she reminds me of someone.

“Here we go,” my father says, opening the back door for me. I tear my eyes away from the window and climb into the car, the smell of it bringing me back to the times when Brady and I used to argue over who got to pick the radio station. My brother’s gone now, but we’ve made peace with that. Our family got through it and now we’re all better. I’m better.

My parents climb into the car, glancing back at me as if they expect me to disappear at any moment, and I smile. I’m going home.

PART III

WISH YOU WEREN’T HERE

CHAPTER ONE

I HAD TROUBLE SLEEPING THE FIRST NIGHT HOME. The house was too quiet, the sounds in my head too loud. I missed Realm, missed playing cards with the boys. I missed the freedom and the restrictions of the facility. In a weird way, I’d been on my own.

After we’d stopped for ice cream, my mother came home and cooked a big dinner, chatting away about what I’d missed. Apparently The Program has been picked up in three more states, and France and Germany are adapting their own versions. I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that so I stayed silent.