The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(42)

Deacon curses, recognizing that we have to intervene in some way. I wonder where Angie’s friends are. How could they leave her alone when she’s obviously a mess?

My sister splays out on the pavement, her head falling into the edge of the grass in front of a beat-up old house. She stares up at the sky, letting the rain run over her face. God, is she going to pass out like this?

Deacon and I wait another minute, but no one comes for her. Whether Angie’s isolated herself or she’s always been this alone, I’m not sure. All I know is that I feel incredibly sorry for her. With a sore heart, I turn to Deacon.

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, and nods out the window. “I can go,” he offers. I consider it. Deacon’s a stranger, and he can try to help her get back inside. Then again, my sister doesn’t exactly look up to walking. She might cause another scene, and the cops might get called. Deacon can’t be involved if that happens. He’s not supposed to even see me when I’m on assignment.

“No,” I tell him. “She’s my responsibility. I’ll bring her back to the bar.” I don’t mention that Isaac is inside and that part of me doesn’t want Deacon to see him.

Deacon weighs it out and then agrees, acknowledging it’s a bad situation all around. But he also knows helping her is the right thing to do. I smile, once again reminded of how well Deacon knows me. How deep our connection runs. I lean in and hug him, our bodies pressed together, my cheek against his neck. His skin is burning hot in the cold air, and longing sweeps over me. Invades me. I pull back slowly, our eyes locked like this moment can last if we want it to. If we let it.

He smiles slightly, acknowledging that he feels it too. His fingers brush my thigh as I move away. Lights from a passing car illuminate the space around us, highlighting the passion in his eyes. I could get lost in here forever.

“I’ll be right back,” I mumble, quickly opening the door and climbing out into the rain. The cold night air hits my damp face, sobering up the crazy I just indulged in. Another minute and we might have ended up in the backseat. But Deacon and I are just friends, that’s it. It’s too dangerous to be anything else.

I wrap my arms around myself, heading toward the sidewalk. My sister laughs from where she’s lying on the pavement, and I start jogging in her direction. I pull up my hood, hoping that with a bit of cover I won’t elicit such a violent reaction from her. I slow down when I get close, and come to pause far enough away so I won’t startle her.

“Angie,” I say softly. She turns her head in the wet grass, a bit of dirt smudged on her cheek. She runs her eyes over me and then scoffs.

“Go away, impostor,” she calls. Her arms are bare, her pale skin glowing in the streetlight. I sit on the pavement next to her, folding my legs under me, and settle in. I won’t leave her like this.

“Can I at least help you back inside to your friends?” I ask, using my natural voice. Angie doesn’t want to know me as Catalina. I can spare her that pain since she’s not technically part of the assignment. At least until I know more about what she needs.

“I don’t have any friends,” she tells me, staring at the sky. “I don’t want any.”

At baseball practice she was with another girl, so I assume she has at least one friend, but she doesn’t want to think about that. She wants to feel sorry for herself, hate herself so she’ll have to reason to withdraw. She’s sad. She’s so deeply sad that I can’t believe she’s gotten this far without anyone noticing.

“Does your mother know how you feel?” I ask, keeping my voice steady but quiet. Angie winces at the mention of her mother.

“Of course not,” she says bitterly. “Only thing anybody sees is Catalina. ‘Catalina’s depressed,’ ” she mimics in her mother’s voice. “ ‘Catalina’s fighting with Isaac. What’s wrong with Catalina?’ ”

As I listen, my heart rate speeds up, finally about to get some answers to this assignment. There was nothing in the file about a change in Catalina’s state of mind. “And then what happened?” I ask.

Angie turns to me, her mascara bleeding black over her cheeks. “Then she died,” she says coldly. “She died right in front of me.”

I take in a sharp breath, the answer completely unexpected. This should have been in the file. This most definitely should have been in the file. “How did she die?” I ask, getting up on my knees.

For a moment I think she’s going to tell me everything. I watch pain cross her expression, pull and distort her features. But rather than answer, Angie turns away, staring straight up into the sky, hitching in uneven breaths like she’s about to break down. “She just died,” she says.

I start to move closer when I hear a shout from the bar. I look over my shoulder; my body exploding in panic as I see Isaac running toward us, his shoes sloshing in the puddles on the wet pavement. “Angela,” he yells.

“Oh, shit,” I mutter, and quickly get to my feet. I can’t talk to Isaac right now. I’m completely out of character, and my makeup has probably run off. I turn back to the car, where Deacon looks equally concerned. But just as Marie would, he holds up his hand and tells me to be steady.

Isaac runs right past me to where Angie is crumpled on the ground, and he helps her sit up. For a moment I watch them, wondering if I could hurry back to the car, cut my losses, and start again tomorrow. But before I can make the decision, Isaac looks back at me and stills. He didn’t know I was the person waiting here with Angie.