The Program (The Program #1)(4)
Author: Suzanne Young

SO DO I.

PLEASE DON’T, I type. I’m terrified that my boyfriend and my best friend will get flagged, and I’ll be left all alone in this barren place. This barren world.

But all I get back is: I LOVE YOU, SLOANE.

• • •

James and I watch as Miller waits in the lunch line, his movements slow and lethargic. He hasn’t been the same since I told him about Lacey, and I hate myself for it. I should have let James break the news.

At the start of lunch, James and Miller decide that after classes we’ll go to Sumpter High—the school for returners—and wait for Lacey to walk out. There’s no way Miller would get more than a few words in at the Wellness Center, not when handlers will be guarding Lacey for three more weeks. Miller is hoping that, in the parking lot of Sumpter (with the proper diversion), he can get Lacey alone long enough to remind her of who he is. He thinks he can get her back.

James is next to me with his head on his folded arms as they rest on the lunch table. He’s trying to look casual, but his eyes are trained on Miller. “At Sumpter, you and I are going to create a distraction,” James says in my direction.

“And if it doesn’t work?”

His mouth turns up, his eyes flicking from the line to mine. “I can be distracting, don’t you think?”

“James, I miss her too. But I don’t want anything to—”

He reaches out his hand to clasp mine. “I know the risk, but what if she’s still in there somehow? Miller has to try, Sloane. I would do it for you.”

“And I would for you,” I answer automatically. But James’s face clouds over.

“Don’t say that,” he snaps. “Don’t even think it.” He lets go of my hand. “I’ll kill myself before they ever take me into The Program.”

Tears burn my eyes because I know it’s not an idle threat. It’s a real possibility. James doesn’t try to console me this time, there’s no point. He can’t promise me he won’t kill himself. No one can.

Six weeks ago, after they took Lacey, I had to fight hard to keep from slipping into the depression that seems to be always waiting. The depression that tells me I’ll never make it. That it’d be easier to just let go. James convinced me and Miller that Lacey was gone forever, as if she was dead, and told us to mourn—privately. But now she’s back and I’m not sure how to feel anymore.

James doesn’t speak again until Miller drops down in the seat, the food on his tray jumping as he does. The room around us buzzes, but it’s quieter than usual. Word of Kendra’s transfer has put everyone on edge.

I notice the dark-haired handler standing by the exit door, not trying to disguise how he’s watching me. I lower my eyes to my half-eaten hamburger. Kendra called to me as she was being dragged out. She made him notice me. I can’t tell James.

Just then James rests his chin on my shoulder as his fingers touch mine. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m a dick, and I’m sorry.”

I look sideways at him, his blond hair curling at the ends near his neck, his blue eyes wide as he stares at me. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I say quietly, hoping Miller won’t hear me and think of Lacey.

James moves to put his arms around my waist to turn me toward him before pressing his forehead to mine, ignoring the fact that everyone can see us. His breath is warm across my lips. “I don’t want anything to happen to me either. But I’ll keep us safe.”

I close my eyes, letting the heat of his body compensate for the cold fear in my chest. “Promise?”

It takes him so long to answer that I give up and let in the dark thoughts once again. The idea that James can be ripped from me at any moment, or that I can get sent away to be changed forever.

But suddenly James buries his face in my hair as he hugs me to him. I stop worrying about the people around us, or even about Miller. I need to hear it. James knows I need to hear it. So then to my absolute relief his mouth is next to my ear and he whispers, “I promise.”

• • •

Sumpter High looms in front of us, looking more like a hospital that an educational facility. The stone facade is washed in white and the large rectangular windows are most certainly sealed. There’s a circular drop-off area near the front, but Miller and I are sitting in the cab of his truck in the back parking lot, staring ahead in silence.

James plans to meet us here after he puts in an appearance at his last class, but Miller and I had study hall, so we took off early with one of the fake passes. There are only ten more minutes until Sumpter lets out, and the anxiety at seeing Lacey again is growing, both in me and in Miller. I turn to look sideways at him.

Miller’s hat is pulled low, shading his eyes. Even though the ignition is off, his knuckles are white as they wrap around the steering wheel. All at once I’m scared of what he’ll do and how he’ll keep it under control. We shouldn’t be here.

“Is there even a real plan?” I ask. “James wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Miller doesn’t seem to hear me as he gazes out the windshield. “Did you know that Lacey was a natural blond?” he asks, sounding far away. “She always had that red dye in her hair and I figured it was brown underneath, but it wasn’t. I saw it in an old picture of her once. I’m a jerk for not knowing, right? I should have known.”

I’ve been friends with Lacey since elementary school, so I can remember when she had yellow pigtails. It’s such a small thing for Miller to feel bad about, but I can tell that he does. As if knowing this detail could have saved her from The Program.

“She loved you,” I whisper, even though it’s almost cruel to say now. “It was all real.”

Miller smiles to himself, but it’s pained. “If you can’t remember, it didn’t happen. And since she won’t . . .” He trails off, staring once again at the large building.

I think about the Lacey we knew before she was taken. Her bright, bloodred hair and black, tight dresses. She was a force of nature. She was a presence. Leading up to The Program she’d been acting differently, and yet, none of us said anything about it—maybe hoping it would go away. We all failed her.

The handlers had been waiting at Lacey’s house the night they came to take her to The Program. We were dropping her off, and I can still remember James joking about the unfamiliar car in her driveway, saying that it was pretty late for her parents to have friends over—maybe they were swingers. Lacey smiled but didn’t laugh. I just thought she was tired. I should have asked if she was okay.