The Program (The Program #1)(68)

I tell Kevin I’m ready to leave, and then say good-bye to Lacey before turning and heading toward the exit. The crowd in the room is suffocating me as I try not to think about what happened on the patio. Try not to think that Liam might have known me before. He called me a freak.

I notice the guy from outside, James, but he doesn’t acknowledge me when I pass. I want to thank him again, but Kevin appears at my side, leading me away.

As we reach the parking lot, Kevin stops me next to his van. “Sloane,” he says quietly, his face showing concern. “Are you feeling all right?”

My lips part to answer. I don’t want to lie, but I’m scared of telling the truth. When I pause, Kevin furrows his brow. “Look,” he says. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I think if I do it’ll help you to trust me more.” He waits a beat as if trying to decide if he should. “I was assigned to you for a reason,” he whispers.

I lift my gaze to meet his. “What reason?”

Kevin looks me over and then shakes his head. “Wait, you didn’t take your pill, did you? I can see the panic in your expression.”

“What reason?” I ask again.

“Michael Realm,” he finally answers. “He’s asked me to look out for you.”

I rock back on my heels. “Realm? But . . . why would you do that? He’s a patient and—”

“I’ve known Michael for a while,” Kevin says quickly. “And he asked this as a favor. He’s hoping that once you’re well, I can take you to see him. Off the grid.” Kevin looks around once, as if he’s worried about being overheard. It occurs to me then that he’s breaking the rules, that he can be arrested for what he’s doing.

And I think that he’s right. I do trust him more now.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say quietly. “And I’d like to see Realm again. But he told me I’d have to wait.”

“You do,” Kevin confirms, starting for the door of his van. “But in a few weeks, you should be okay. Just don’t . . .” He stops to look around again. “Just don’t do anything stupid. And whatever you do, don’t tell anyone about this. You’ll compromise us all.”

“I’ll try.” The nerves in my stomach calm. The fact that Realm is looking out for me makes me feel safer. And it makes me miss him. I don’t want to screw up my chances of seeing him again.

Kevin and I both climb inside the van, and he starts the engine, glancing over his shoulder to back out. “Kevin,” I say. “Let’s never come back here again, okay? This place gives me the creeps.”

He smiles and agrees, and then we leave the Wellness Center behind.

• • •

Lacey is waiting for me outside of class the next morning. Kevin stands off to the side of the door while I stop to talk to her, and Lacey shrugs apologetically.

“I don’t know what happened last night,” she says, quietly enough so that Kevin won’t hear. “But the way Liam tore out of there, I’m guessing he was a dick and you told him off. He can be that way sometimes.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I say. “He probably didn’t even think he was doing anything wrong.”

Lacey nods at this, and moves over as several students file past us into class. “It’s harder for returners,” she murmurs. “People know more about us than we do. There’s no one to trust anymore. It’s enough to make me . . .” She stops and looks to where Kevin is standing. “Never mind,” she says, waving her hand. “We should go in.”

I agree and follow behind her. Kevin enters after us, taking his place at the back of the room. I look around again, thinking that everyone seems content, easygoing. But I didn’t take my pill again today, and the fog of treatment is slowly clearing. Just then Lacey looks back over her shoulder at me and presses her lips into a smile. She’s not medicated, not like the rest. I wonder if we’re the only two lucid students in this room right now.

I begin filling out the daily assessment on my desk, lying on the first question. Because I do feel anxious and overwhelmed. But I’d never tell them that.

• • •

As I walk into my third-period math class, I see a list of problems on the board. I take out my notebook after I sit, and jot them down, hoping to be able to figure out at least one. Math is becoming a huge source of frustration for me. I’m lost in a calculation when a chair squeaks next to me.

I look over, noticing him—James. He looks a little different in daylight, or maybe it’s the fact that my medication has worked its way out of my system, letting images sharpen again.

He has blond hair, cut close to his scalp. He’s wearing a short-sleeved button-down plaid shirt that doesn’t seem to be his, something about it wrong on him. It also doesn’t hide the white scars on his bicep. I see him look at me from the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t turn. In fact, he just leans forward and then takes out his phone to text, or play a game. I’m not sure.

There’s a strange mix of anxiety in my stomach as I watch him. I’m about to whisper a thank-you, even though I’ve already told him. I feel like I should say something, but just then our teacher walks in and tells us to take out our books.

I abandon the math problems from the board, and open to the correct page. I sneak a look sideways to see James continuing to type on his phone.