The Program Page 0,29

picked up the money triumphantly. “Told you she was smarter than you.”

“I never said she wasn’t,” James answered, finally darting a glance at me. “I already know your sister is smarter. She’s prettier than me too, but I didn’t bet on that. I just wanted you to call her in here so she’d look at me again. It was worth the five bucks.”

Before I could even understand what he’d said, James was flipping though his book, the corner of his mouth turned up in a half grin. Brady handed me the five.

“You deserve this,” he said, “for always putting up with his shit.” Brady laughed it away as if James was just teasing me, and my face burned with embarrassment. Humiliation.

I crumpled up the money and tossed it at James, bouncing it off his cheek. He looked up, surprised, and Brady chuckled. “I don’t want your money,” I said, and turned to go up the stairs toward my room.

“Then what do you want, Sloane?” James called after me, sounding amused, as if daring me to answer. I paused at the stairs, but didn’t turn around. And then I went to my room.

I know James won’t come looking for me this time. Not like he did that day, apologizing. James is in The Program now. The James I know is gone.

• • •

“Sloane, honey?” I hear my mother say on the other side of my bedroom door. I lay listlessly on my bed, willing myself to answer her.

“Yeah?”

“It’s time for dinner. Can you please come down? I’ve called three times already.”

Had she? “Sure. Okay.” I slowly stand, looking down at my clothes. I wish that there were bloodstains or tears, something to outwardly show how hurt I am. But instead it’s just a pair of jeans and a pink T-shirt. Something so painfully average that it makes me hate myself. I head downstairs.

My parents sit at the dining room table, pleasant smiles plastered across their faces. I try to return a smile of my own, but I’m not sure I pull it off. My father’s brow creases.

“I made your favorite,” my mother says. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”

I know the homemade sauce took her forever to make, so I say thank you. I take a seat and wonder what sort of pills I can find in the medicine cabinet, wondering if I can find something to help me sleep.

“James’s father called,” my mother says softly. “He told us James was sent to The Program today.”

My stomach twists around her words, and I reach out to sip from my water. The ice cubes rattle in the glass as my hand shakes.

“He’s going to be safe now,” my mother adds. “We’re all so grateful for The Program. We hadn’t even known he was ill.”

I’d known. But now I also know that he’s gone, and when he comes back, I won’t be a part of his life. He’ll be wiped clean.

“Sloane,” my father says in a low tone. “Your mother is talking to you.”

I look up at him, the anger clearly on my face because he straightens in his chair. “What would you like me to say to that?” I ask, my voice barely controlled. “What is the appropriate response?”

“That you’re happy that he’s going to get better. That you’re happy he won’t harm himself.”

“They took him,” I snap. “They came into class and they dragged him out. There is nothing happy about this.”

“Sloane,” my mother says, sounding startled. “Did you know he was sick? You didn’t try to conceal it, did you? He could have . . .” She stops, looking horrified.

I can’t believe they don’t understand. I wonder if it’s because adults would rather forget about their problems, the thought that ignorance is bliss. But The Program steals our memories. They reset our emotions so that we’re brand-new, never having been hurt or heartbroken. But who are we without our pasts?

“James would have rather died than gone to The Program,” I say, picking up my fork. “And now I know why.”

My mother tosses her napkin onto the table. “He’s going to get help, Sloane. Isn’t that what matters? I wish we would have gotten to Brady in time.”

I cry out, the rage inside me too much to contain. “Are you really that stupid?” I shout at her. “Do you really think Brady would have wanted his memory erased? Nobody wants this, Mom. No one wants to be numb. They’re killing us!”

“No!” she yells back. “You’re killing yourselves. They’re saving you.”

“By taking away everything that