The Program (The Program #1)(58)
Author: Suzanne Young

She smiles. “That’s James Murphy who you’re currently eye-humping. He’s in my science class, but he doesn’t say much. And when he does, it’s usually obnoxious or combative.”

I can feel my cheeks redden. “I wasn’t . . .” I stop to laugh. “Okay, not the point. So are you friends with him?”

“Nope.” She bites into her cupcake. “I’m pretty sure that he hates everyone here. He’s been in and out of the office since transferring. I would have recruited him to my ‘Lacey Against the World’ plan, but he’s too unpredictable. He ended up assigned two handlers because he kept going off the grid. Can’t believe they didn’t send him back. Trying to keep up appearances, I guess.”

She crumples up her wrapper, and I pick through the rest of my lunch, careful not to look at James again. If Lacey thinks he’s trouble, that has to be saying something. But I might ask Kevin about him later.

“Wait,” Lacey says, looking up. “Is he the one that scared Liam yesterday?”

“Uh-huh.” I don’t go into details, but I’m not sure why. It’s like I’m suddenly protective of James’s reputation, even though I barely know him. Still, I owe him for sticking up for me. So I don’t mention that he threatened to turn a non-sick person into The Program. That could get him arrested, I bet.

Something tickles the back of my mind, but I can’t put it into words, this odd feeling I have. A feeling that has no meaning because I can’t remember what it relates to. It’s like I’m about to discover it when a memory of my brother sitting alone at the table calling out fractions on flash cards echoes in my mind. I blink quickly and try to clear it away.

“Well, who knows then,” Lacey says, not noticing my temporary distraction. “Maybe he’s not a total tool. So . . . do you remember having any boyfriends or anything? Evan is the first that I can remember. How sad is that? He uses way too much tongue.”

“Ew.” I pop the tab on my Diet Coke. “Not sure I needed to know that.”

Lacey leans her elbows on the table, the smile fading from her lips. “They watch you, you know. They monitor us all the time, even when we don’t realize.”

A chill runs over me as I stare back at her. Her dark eyes are painted with blue shadow, the liner dramatically cat-eyed. Her blond hair is flipped up at the ends, very preppy—almost comically so. It occurs to me suddenly that this is not how she wants to dress. That this is fake.

“Are they watching right now?” I whisper, suddenly paranoid as I lean closer to her.

“The place isn’t bugged or anything, but they take note of who we interact with. Where we go. They’re looking for signs of failure.”

“And if they find it?”

Lacey straightens then. “We don’t know. No one has failed. Yet.”

I lower my eyes, thinking that I don’t want to be the first person to get sent back to The Program. I don’t think I could bear being locked up there alone. I feel fine—a little confused, but not depressed. Although to be honest, I’m not even sure what depressed would feel like.

“Anyway.” Lacey sighs as if wanting to go back to the easy conversation. “If you want me to introduce you to James, I can.”

I shake my head, trying to relax the tension that is now squeezing my shoulders. “That’s okay,” I say. “I doubt he’s my type.”

Lacey snorts. “How would you know? I’m sure they’ve wiped out your dating history, too.”

She’s right. I don’t know anything about myself anymore. I don’t even know if I’ve had a boyfriend before.

“Maybe you like dudes on motorcycles.” Lacey grins. “Or supernerdy guys.” She giggles, but it’s deep and throaty. “I’ll tell you one thing, now that I’m free to date, I’m going to try all thirty-one flavors. It’s like I have a clean slate. I’m a born-again virgin.”

“Just remember that some of those thirty-one flavors will be disgusting,” I say. “Like, who would be the pistachio cream?”

Lacey smiles. “Already had him.”

I laugh again, shaking my head. “Have you ever asked anyone about your past? About who you dated before?”

Lacey seems to freeze at this. “I did actually, and my parents nearly died when I brought it up. They wouldn’t tell me a thing. Everyone else ignored the question because they didn’t want to get flagged. You know that, right? If anyone tells you about who you were, what you did before The Program, they can get flagged or arrested for messing with a returner.”

I lower my eyes, the thought troubling me. The fact that The Program has such complete control of what and who we’re exposed to.

Lacey continues. “After all the strained glances between my parents, I finally just went to search my room, looking for anything—a picture, a birthday card. But it’s all gone. Probably a good thing, though. I mean, how healthy could my past relationships have been if I was suicidal?”

She has a valid point. “Still,” I say, “I’d like to know. Just seems weird that other people can know and not tell me.”

Lacey pushes her lunch bag away and levels her stare at me. “It is weird. And trust me, it doesn’t get any less weird. But there are a lot sick people out there. You and me, we’re not like them anymore. Sure, I get a little irritated when I can’t remember something, but I’m not trying to slash my wrists, either. The Program worked. For better or for worse. Truly,” she says, looking down. “I’m not sure which it is.”

The expression that crosses her features is one of regret with a touch of sadness. I glance over at Kevin, hoping he hasn’t noticed Lacey’s change, but he’s watching us. He’s clearly seen.

“I did meet a guy while I was at The Program,” I offer, completely downplaying how complicated my and Realm’s relationship was to make it sound like gossip. With that, Lacey’s lips twitch with a smile.

“Really, now? That is scandalous, Sloane. A boyfriend?”

“No. Just a friend.” Lacey crinkles her nose as if I’ve disappointed her. “But,” I add, “he was the type of friend I’d sometimes kiss.”

The bell rings overhead, and I straighten, glad I snapped her out of whatever she was thinking about. She smiles broadly at me.

“I have to go,” she says, standing. “My chem teacher is giving me a hell of a time about not catching up. Maybe she’ll eventually take the hint that I hate science and have no plans to ever catch up.” She sighs and then waves before turning to leave.