The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(16)

“Hey, hey,” Deacon tells Shelly, holding out his hand. He looks between me and her, but I don’t acknowledge him. I glare at Shelly, all of the humor in the room sucked away by her ignorance.

“I don’t exploit people,” I say evenly. “They come to me for comfort, for peace. I help them with their grief.”

She scoffs. “Think what you want,” she says. “But around here we know the truth. You’re pariahs, a bunch of—”

“Okay,” Myra calls out, her temper flared. “Enough of you, Little Miss Sunshine.” Myra yanks the comb out of Aaron’s hand and scrambles to her feet. Aaron quickly jumps up and wraps his arm around her waist to hold her back. Myra jabs the comb in Shelly’s direction. “I suggest you take your noisy-ass shoes and walk them out my door before I let Quinlan beat the hell out of you.”

I turn quickly to Myra, sure she knows I’ve never been in a fight in my life. Her braids are unfinished, springing up at the ends and making her look unhinged. Her bluff works, though; Shelly takes a step back.

“Go to hell,” she tells all of us in a shaky voice. She stomps out the door and slams it shut behind her. The pictures on the wall rattle from the force, and Myra slowly works herself back down to the floor, holding up the comb to Aaron so he can finish her hair.

We’re quiet. Deacon’s staring straight ahead, looking sorry that he let the situation get out of hand. He’s apologetic when he turns to me, but it’s not his fault. We’re used to people hating us.

“Well, she was a bitch,” I say.

It takes a second, but then Deacon laughs. “Yeah, I think I missed the warning signs there,” he says, rubbing his jaw.

“Bet she knew one of the assignments,” Aaron comments, sitting back in the chair. “Friend from school, cousin, or something.” He nods, agreeing with himself. “That was some visceral hatred.”

He’s right—she’s probably lost someone in the past and it’s colored her perception. People who aren’t directly involved in the therapy have a different opinion of us, but it’s because they don’t understand. Her words leave a sting on my skin, though, but soon they’re drowned out by my other worries.

Myra taps her braids and then pulls the rubber band from around her wrist. “Here,” she tells Aaron, passing it up to him. “We’ll finish later.” Aaron ties off the ends, and Myra moves to sit next to him in the oversize chair. She looks at me, and when I meet her eyes, her expression softens.

“You’ve really got another assignment?” she asks. “I thought that wasn’t allowed.” She turns to Aaron with concern, maybe afraid he’ll be sent away too. Aaron’s face has gone ashen, his jaw tight as the reality hits him.

“It isn’t really allowed,” he says quietly to Myra. His dark eyes meet mine. “Who is the girl?”

I shrug. “Just a girl,” I say. “There’s nothing in her file that makes her special—it’s a little more in-depth, sure, but not special.” I think on it for a second. “Her death certificate was in there, but it said ‘undetermined.’ ”

Deacon moves to the edge of the couch, his hands folded between his knees as he leans forward. “Her death certificate was in her file? What did your dad say about it?”

“Nothing. Said they were still waiting for the autopsy results. The girl’s parents are his patients and he’s afraid he can’t help them. He said this is an emergency. They’re sending me in for two weeks.” Myra gasps and I hear Aaron curse under his breath.

“They should be in therapy,” Deacon responds. “This breaks every protocol. I can’t believe your father is seriously considering this. He shouldn’t put you at risk to help them.”

“The assignment’s coming from Arthur Pritchard,” I say, and his eyes widen. “Besides, I’ve already agreed. It’s the right thing to do.”

Deacon scoffs and sits back on the couch, grabbing his drink from the side table to take a long sip. He’s only looking out for me, but my job is to provide closure. My dad’s right—I save people.

A heavy silence fills the room, no one sure what to say next, especially when Deacon is clearly pissed off. But I haven’t told them everything yet.

“I’ll have a boyfriend,” I say quietly, and take a sip from my Sprite. They all turn to me.

“What?” Aaron asks, exchanging a look with Deacon.

“Catalina has a boyfriend named Isaac,” I say. “My dad wants him to be part of the closure.”

“Tell him to f*ck off,” Deacon responds. “That’s not allowed.”

I shoot him a pointed look to remind him that he’s talking about my dad. Deacon closes his eyes and I can actually see him try to gather his thoughts before speaking again.

“Sorry,” he says in a controlled voice. “Politely tell your father no, Quinn. You’re not a relationship counselor. If this dude needs closure, it’s because he’s still in love with his dead girlfriend. What if he transfers that to you? What if he falls in love with you instead? That’s why this shit isn’t allowed. And you’re not going to be yourself—you’ll be her.” He says her like it annoys him, like she’s already betrayed him. “What if you . . .” He stops and shakes his head out of aggravation.