The Program (The Program 1) - Page 60/83

“I miss him,” I tell my mother, looking at her.

She blinks back her tears and smiles sadly. “I miss him too. But we had to move on as a family. Your brother drowned in that river and it devastated us. Still, we’ve found our peace again. Please don’t make us relive the pain. Do you promise?”

There’s a tightness in my chest, and I think what she’s asking is unfair, especially because I can’t remember losing my brother. I need a little more closure, a chance to grieve now that I’m home. But instead, I just nod, and she pats my thigh.

“Now,” she says as if everything is cleared up. “Tell me again about all these friends you’re making.”

“Oh . . .” I furrow my brow, surprised by the subject change. “Well, it’s only one friend. The girl Lacey I told you about? She’s really nice. I think you’ll like her.” I’m not sure that’s true, but I’m hoping it’ll make my mother less cautious with me. “I was hoping that maybe she could come over for dinner one night.”

My mother presses her lips together, thinking. “Maybe in a few weeks—when things settle down.”

I don’t like her answer but I don’t tell her.

“And the boy?” she asks offhandedly.

I laugh. “There’s no boy. I was just wondering about someone in my math class. It’s no big deal.”

My mother smiles, but it looks forced, and I feel my heart sink. She’s not going to let Lacey come here, and she certainly isn’t going to let me date anyone—possibly ever. I’m starting to think that I need to find Realm. I’m not sure there is anyone else I can confide in. He’d told me to wait to find him, but I can’t. I need someone to talk to, someone who will understand. I wonder if Kevin will take me to him now.

My mother reaches out to brush my hair behind my ear. “I’m glad we had this talk,” she says, gazing at me lovingly. “We’re so happy to have you home, honey. You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.”

I tell her I missed her, too, but really I’m thinking about the ache that has started deep in my chest, a pain that I can’t place and I can’t understand. It’s like longing, whether for myself or someone else, I don’t know. There is a part of me missing and no matter what I do, I’m not sure I’ll ever fill it.

• • •

It’s nearly a week later, and I’m in math class again. Kevin told me that I wasn’t ready to see Realm because I haven’t healed yet, and it’s imperative for my brain to do so. He reminded me that although he’s looking out for me as a favor for Realm, he really is concerned for my health and that it is his first priority.

James Murphy sits in the desk next to me, paying attention as our teacher continues to talk. I lower my head, letting my hair fall forward, blocking the right side of my face enough so that I can stare at James through my dark hair.

The scars on his bicep are white, but they’ve got a weird crisscrossing pattern. I can’t figure out what could have caused that sort of injury, but it’s not angry and pink like a normal scar. Is it a burn?

James glances sideways, catching me looking at his arm. His face is expressionless, and he turns back to the front, as if he didn’t notice me at all. I swallow hard.

I go back to my notebook and copy down a few problems from the board. I look at Kevin, who’s staring out the window, daydreaming. I peek at James again, the thought that he refuses to acknowledge me making me that much more curious about him. And although I’m not checking him out, I do notice how attractive he is—I mean, I can’t really miss it. He isn’t overly styled: in fact, his chin is unshaven, the stubble there a little darker than his hair. When I look at his mouth, there’s a ghost of a smile there, even though he’s staring straight ahead. James leans forward and turns the page of his notebook, jotting something down quickly.

I watch as he turns the spiral-bound notebook sideways, continuing to stare ahead. I’m not sure what he’s doing when he silently taps his finger on the page.

I realize suddenly that he wants me to read it. I lean over slightly.

Why are you staring at me?

He darts a glance in my direction, and I can feel the heat in my cheeks, my embarrassment getting the best of me. I shrug.

James nods and goes back to his notebook, scribbling something else before turning it toward me.

It’s giving me a complex.

A laugh escapes from my lips, and I quickly cover my mouth. Nearly half the class turns toward the sound, but James is the picture of innocence as he flips back to his original page and folds his hands in front of him.

“Is there a problem, Sloane?” the teacher asks. Within seconds Kevin is standing at my side, looking concerned.

“No,” I say. “I’m sorry. I choked on a piece of gum.”

“Perhaps that’s why we don’t allow gum in the classroom,” the teacher responds, sounding annoyed at the interruption.

“Are you not feeling well?” Kevin whispers. “Maybe we should go out into the hall for some air.”

“No,” I say instantly. “I’m fine. Really.”

Kevin shoots a nervous look at James, and then walks to the front and interrupts our teacher midsentence. I don’t dare turn to James, but I can feel him watching me.

“Of course,” the teacher says to my handler. “Sloane, can you come sit in the front, please?”

I gather my things quickly and take an empty desk directly to the side of the teacher. I sit there for the rest of class, feeling kind of humiliated. But maybe just a little bit charmed.

After class Kevin pulls me aside and levels his stare on mine. “What was that about in there?” he asks.

“I laughed. It’s not a huge deal.” I don’t appreciate him being so nosy, but then I think that a regular handler might be a lot more intrusive than Kevin’s being right now.

“Do you know James Murphy?” he asks.

“No.”

Kevin exhales as he straightens. “Then let’s keep it that way. James isn’t the sort you want to get to know, Sloane. I can’t protect you if you’re going to go down that path.”

“And what path is that?”

“A self-destructive one. Just promise me you’ll stay away from him. Please.”

I don’t like being told who I can and can’t associate with. But Kevin’s eyes are pleading with me, so I nod, even though it’s going to be a hard promise to keep.