The Program (The Program #1)(75)

“What is it?” I ask, bringing it onto my lap to look it over. It’s a small pad of paper with the name of the school psychologist at the top. The entire pad has been filled out with his signature, requiring only the date and time. I look across the table at Lacey, my eyes wide.

“If you need some time off,” she whispers. “Just fill it in and give it to your teacher. They never check. They expect us to be in therapy—they definitely don’t expect us to skip. We’re the good ones, remember? Sorry that I’ve used up half the passes already.” When I look at her questioningly, she shrugs. “What? How did you think I found the time to sample so many flavors?”

I laugh, thinking about Lacey sneaking around school, making out with guys behind the building or in the custodian’s closet. And then, completely not meaning to, I take another look back at James. And he smiles.

“Not interested at all,” Lacey says offhandedly. “So sure.”

• • •

I don’t waste any time using the pass. It’s like having the key to an intricate lock right there in your pocket. Before my final class, I fill one out and then pause at the entryway, trying not to give myself away. After a deep breath, I turn to Kevin.

“I actually have a session with Mr. Andrews,” I say, motioning back toward the office. “It’ll probably last through the end of the day.”

Kevin glances at his watch and then nods. “I’ll walk you there.”

I smile as my heart explodes with panic in my chest. “Oh. Sure. Okay.” Kevin waits as I show my teacher the fake pass, letting him mark me as present in the roster. Then he dismisses me.

I don’t talk as Kevin and I head down the empty hall toward the office. I don’t know what I was thinking. My handler is going to see that I don’t have a session, and then he’s going to check the pass. I’m going to get so busted. I don’t think he’ll be able to ignore this, no matter what sort of favor he’s doing for Realm.

And where will I tell him I got it from? I won’t turn Lacey in. They can put me back in The Program if they have to.

The Program. An acute sense of dread slips over me, and I consider confessing to Kevin that I don’t have a session; asking him not to turn me in. But that would just be stupid. I have to ride this out, and if that fails, deny, deny, deny.

“You’ve done well,” Kevin tells me as we walk. “I’m honestly impressed with the progress you’ve made so far. Not all returners are so cooperative.”

“Thanks,” I say, the pass burning a hole in my hand, proving that his trust is misplaced. “I appreciate you saying that.”

“Realm told me you were remarkable in The Program, and now I see it.” He pauses. “You know, I was at your house that day. I was one of the handlers who brought you to the facility,” he says softly. “And you were . . . really sick. I’m so glad to see you healthy now. I’ve really been pulling for you.”

I can feel the color drain from my face when he says this. “You were there?” is all I can mumble. Oh, God. They took me from my own house?

Kevin nods and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I was. And when Realm contacted me about your release, I was hesitant. I didn’t think you’d be a good candidate, but now I see it. You’re very clever.”

“Candidate for what?”

Kevin motions toward the office door as if reminding me that I have therapy. As he holds it open, he smiles. “I’ll have Realm get in touch with you soon,” he says. “I think that’d make you both pretty happy.”

“I would love to see him.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He leaves, but I’m stunned, standing in the middle of the front office. Kevin has seen a side of me that I can’t remember. He said I’d been really sick. I can’t even picture it.

“Can I help you?” the secretary asks, startling me.

I look at her and then check back over my shoulder to make sure Kevin is gone. When I’m sure he is, I smile. “Hi,” I say. “Mr. Bellis wanted copy paper?”

• • •

I hurry through the empty halls and stash the ream of paper in my locker. My heart is racing with the worry of getting caught, but I feel alive right now—as if I’m escaping more than just fifty minutes of class. I start toward the back door, hoping to sneak through it toward the far lot.

When I get outside, I remember about the football field. “Damn it,” I murmur. Even though sports aren’t played anymore, they’ve kept the lawn intact, even mowing it short. But it rained heavily last night and the field looks half-flooded. It’s the only way to the far lot unless I walk around the building, possibly getting seen by the front office. I sigh and move closer to the field to check it out.

The air around me is warm from the sun. It smells new and clean, and I’m suddenly reminded of the times I spent camping with Brady. Sometimes it would pour rain, and we’d be stuck in the tent, playing cards and eating beef jerky. It was still fun, though. We always had fun.

As my sneaker squishes in the wet earth, I think about how much I miss Brady. It’s like my memories of him end with us happy. Just happiness and then he’s gone, a quietness in its place. I wonder how I handled losing him. My mother said it was tough on me, but I wonder if I was brave. Or I wonder if his dying was what finally broke me.