The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(58)

I stare at him, shutting off all of the training that wants to redirect. Truth is, Marie never prepared me for this. There is no answer here, only love. These people will love me, protect me. They could give me a normal life, and even the grief department should understand that—even my father and Arthur Pritchard.

I leap forward and wrap my arms around the man next to me, his body too bulky to reach around. He chuckles at my response, and pats my back gently.

“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you.”

I pull away, and he presses his lips together. I haven’t said yes, but he can tell by the smile on my face that his and his wife’s offer means the world to me.

“Think about it,” he says. My father motions to the patio doors. “Now, we should head back in. I’ve told Angela to behave herself, but you shouldn’t let her get to you. She’ll come to accept you in time. I promise. She’s been through a lot.”

I nod, agreeing that she’s endured too much. I let myself feel compassion for her, let it wash away my anger and hurt. She’s had a chance to vent, so maybe we can finish the meal in peace. At least I hope so. My appetite has finally returned.

* * *

Angie doesn’t speak to me at dinner, but she stays throughout the meal, and even talks to her parents about school. She’s been running on the track in the evenings and told them it helps her clear her head. She glances at me once when she says it, probably thinking about my death. But at least she doesn’t tell me to drop dead or call me a monster. That’s progress.

“Banana cream pie,” my mother says, bringing it in to set in the center of the table. I notice the dusting of almonds on the top, and my anxiety starts to build. I’m allergic to nuts and I don’t eat them. Marie should have advised them about this before I arrived.

My mother dishes out the dessert to each of us. My sister takes a bite immediately and tells my mother it’s awesome. For a brief moment, everyone is happy—and I fit with them. I don’t want to ruin that.

I pick at the pie, not wanting to eat any of it and risk having a bad reaction when I’m supposed to go out with Isaac tonight. They’re all taking a painfully long time, though, and my avoidance becomes obvious.

“Catalina,” my mother says. “You haven’t had any pie.” My father looks over, mildly curious, and this time Angie doesn’t flinch at the use of my name.

“Sorry,” I say, smiling politely. “I’m . . . really full.”

“Nonsense.” She waves her fork. “It’s your favorite. Eat up.” She laughs and takes another large bite. I stare down at the pie, debating letting my face swell just to keep up the illusion. But ultimately, I can’t do it.

“I’m allergic,” I murmur, not looking at her.

“What’s that?” my mother asks, leaning in to hear me better.

I lift my head. “I’m allergic to the almonds.”

She stares at me for a long moment, and a passing flash of recognition immediately followed by grief plays across her expression. “Yes,” she says, and sets down her fork. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

Everyone’s quiet after that, and my mother doesn’t finish her pie. My sister only nibbles on hers. At one point I look at my father and he nods encouragingly, letting me know that it’s okay. That I didn’t do anything wrong. I appreciate his support, his clearheaded resolve in the face of so much tragedy.

So later, after Angela’s gone and my parents watch a bit of television with me, I take special care to say good night to my father, giving him a kiss on the cheek before going to my room.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ISAAC SENDS ME AN INSTANT message on the computer around eleven thirty, telling me he’ll be by in fifteen minutes. Nervousness creeps over me, and I go to the mirror to check my appearance. I brush my fingers through my hair, telling myself once again how much I love the cut. My freckles are hidden, makeup flawless to capture my features just right. Winged eyeliner and soft pink gloss on my lips. I press them together and have a wild thought that maybe they’ll be kissed tonight. I quickly spin away from the mirror, ashamed of where my mind went, and walk to the bed to pull out the plastic aerobic step from underneath.

I open my window and see exactly where I would have hidden it in the bushes. I drop the step into place, glad my return won’t be as difficult as it was last night. One more check of my clothes: a sleeveless turquoise shirt, not entirely weather appropriate but insanely flattering against my skin. I smile, thinking that Isaac will like this. It’s different from what I would have normally worn with him, but in a good way. An idealized way.

I see the shine of headlights quickly flick off, and I know that Isaac is here. Anticipation builds inside of me, and I’m at the window before I realize I left my phone on the side table. I glance back, knowing I should take it in case there’s an emergency, either with me or with Aaron. But then, with a careless turn, I leave it behind. I leave it all behind.

The grass is damp, and as I jog across, my shoes slip, almost sending me headlong into the mud. I steady myself, and when I get to Isaac’s truck, he’s trying to hide his smile.

“That would not have been funny,” I say, although I’m nearly cracking up myself. He turns, and under the interior lights he gets his first glimpse of me. His smile fades; his eyes widen as they take me in. We sit idling at the curb in front of my house, and I briefly wonder what would happen if my parents looked out the window. Would they be mad that I snuck out? Would it be okay because it was with Isaac?