The Program (The Program #1)(80)

“Over here.” James’s voice comes from the corner, desks and old boxes stacked around him. I can’t see him well, but I keep moving. When his hands touch my upper arms, I jump, making a soft sound. “Sorry,” he says. “I can’t find the light.”

I stare until his outline starts to come into focus; the place so dark it’s like we’re the only people in the world. God, I’m an idiot for being here. I cross my arms over my chest, even though he can’t see me. Just then the room fills with light, and I find James near the wall with his hand on the switch. When he looks at me, my expression is deadly serious.

“How do you know Brady?” I ask.

“I told you that I don’t. I’ve never seen him before. Did you ask him?”

His words sting, and I step back, the air pushed from my lungs.

“Well, did you?” he asks.

“James,” I say, the tears thick in my voice. “My brother is dead.” And the fact that he doesn’t know him—that my brother is gone from his memory—makes me break down. Seeing the picture has stirred up the pain, the grief I must have felt but don’t remember. I put my face in my hands, and then suddenly James pulls me to him as I quietly sob into his shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I had no idea. I’m an ass**le, okay?”

“You are,” I agree, but don’t move away. I’d wanted James to know Brady. I wanted him to tell me about him. And now it’s like I’ve lost my brother all over again.

“Stop crying,” James says softly. “You can’t go back to class like that.”

“I’m not going back,” I say, straightening from his arms. “I hate this place. I hate everything.”

“Believe me, Sloane,” he says. “I can relate. But I don’t want you to do anything stupid. How do you plan on getting out?” James tucks my hair behind my ears. I let him, but lower my eyes.

“Not sure.”

“I can help,” he offers. “I’ve made skipping class into a fine art. I have the clearance code of a Program doctor. The office won’t know it’s expired unless they check into it and see he’s retired.”

“Really?” I sniffle and wipe at my cheeks.

“I’m not an amateur,” he says. “Technically I’m at therapy right now. But if I sneak you out, do you want to grab lunch or something? I’m starving.”

I wait, still wanting to be mad at him for not knowing my brother, but realistically knowing it’s not his fault. “It depends,” I murmur.

“On what?”

“Do you think . . . Do you think we can get our memories back?” I ask.

“No,” he says sadly. “I’ve asked everyone. Researched it. And from what I can tell . . . No.” His voice takes on a hard edge, and I like it. I like the anger there.

“But do you want to try?” I ask. “You can come by my house, look at Brady’s stuff and see if you remember anything?”

“Will you make me a sandwich?”

I smile. “Yeah. I guess.”

James is quiet, and I think he’s going to refuse, but then he takes out his phone and dials, dissolving into the voice of an old man—pretty expertly, I must admit. And when he’s done he looks nervous, as if coming with me might start something he’s not sure of. But we leave anyway. Together.

• • •

“Your parents coming home anytime soon?” James asks as we pause on my back porch.

There is a tiny burst of butterflies, even though I try not to notice them. “No, not for a little while.”

Kevin had rushed off campus after James called in an emergency at the other high school, so luckily I didn’t have to lie to his face. The office bought the phony call without question. I’m almost scared at how good James is at getting around the rules.

“Will they be able to tell if we go through their stuff ?” James asks, as we step inside my cluttered kitchen. The pots from last night’s dinner are still on the stove, dishes next to the sink.

“I hope not.” I push the door closed behind us, and lock it. James looks around the room, taking it in and then glances back at me.

“Familiar?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Sorry. No.”

I’m definitely disappointed as I lead James upstairs, wishing he could tell me what he knows about Brady. I want to find out if he has any details about how my brother died. How I survived it. But he’s nothing short of confused as he follows behind me. We pause at a door.

“This was my brother’s room,” I say quietly. Tears start to itch behind my eyes, but I blink them away.

James passes me and walks inside, looking over the room as if he’s hoping it’ll just hit him. But as the minutes tick by, it seems less and less likely. When his blue eyes finally meet mine, the apology is in them. I turn and walk out into the hallway.

It doesn’t seem real, how part of our lives can just be wiped out. How James and I can share a connection and yet not even know what it is. He knew Brady. How could he forget him? I’m starting down the hall, James behind me, when I hear him stop.

“Your bedroom?”

I turn and see him standing at my door. “Yep.”

“Can I see it?”