The Program Page 0,81
enjoy the rest of the period, passing the time with safe conversations about teachers and music.
The bell rings, and Lacey gathers all her wrappers, stuffing them back into the bag. I haven’t touched the food on my tray, but I feel satisfied enough. When Kevin begins to make his way over from wall, Lacey grins at me.
“Make him take you to the Wellness Center tonight,” she whispers. “I can meet up with you there if you want.”
“Really?” I can’t help but smile. I’ve made a friend, and somehow that makes me feel better about myself. It’s such a normal thing to do.
“Seven o’clock.”
“Excuse me,” Kevin states when he gets to our table. “We need to go, Sloane.” He takes the tray from in front of me, giving me a disapproving glance when he sees all of the food still on it. With one hand on my elbow, he gently guides me out of my seat. “Miss Klamath,” he says to Lacey in greeting.
She waves suggestively at him, and Kevin shakes his head with a smirk as if he’s used to her antics. Before I can even say good-bye, Lacey is gliding across the cafeteria and out of my line of vision. When she’s gone, Kevin drops his hand from my arm. “I’m glad you’re making friends,” he says. “It’s good for your recovery.”
“What’s the deal with the Wellness Center?” I ask. “Can I go there tonight?”
“The Wellness Center was developed by The Program as part of the aftercare, a way for you to interact with others—including nonreturners—in a safe, monitored environment. If you’d like to check it out, I think that would be okay. Let’s just be sure you’re not overdoing it. Too much stimulus can disrupt the healing process. In fact . . .” Kevin slips a pill box out his pocket, taking out the white pill. “Here. You haven’t had a dose since this morning. You might start feeling on edge if you don’t.”
I consider it. What happens if I don’t do exactly as I’m told? Would refusing be considered messing up—especially on the second day? I glance around the room, wondering if the other returners felt this lost when they first came back. But I learn nothing, as they all grab their backpacks and dump their trash, heading for their classes.
And so I swallow the pill.
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN MY HANDLER DROPS ME OFF AT HOME, SAYING he’ll be back at six thirty, I immediately start on my homework. Although I feel as if I know the answers, some of the questions get muddled in my head. Especially when it comes to math. It’s as if certain rules were erased, leaving me with partial answers. Eventually I get frustrated and slam my book shut before turning on the television.
I’m not surprised to see a Dateline special about The Program—it seems to dominate every channel. Even on MTV, what used to be ruled by trashy reality shows is now filled with inspirational stories of teens being saved by The Program. I half wonder if The Program is sponsoring the network now.
Just then the interviewer from Dateline walks into the facility, the same facility that I was in. I sit up straighter, my heart pounding. I think I see Nurse Kell dash out of the corner of the screen and then the view is filled with security guards.
“You can’t be here,” the security guard says, pushing the camera away with his hand. “You have to leave.”
The interviewer continues arguing until the sound is promptly shut off. The screen is black and I wait, wondering what happened. Instead the interviewer is behind a desk, shaking his head. “When asked to comment, the president of The Program, Arthur Pritchard, released this statement: ‘The effectiveness of the treatment—which is still at one hundred percent—is dependent on the privacy of our patients. Any interference could jeopardize the life of the minors, and therefore we cannot comment on the treatment or allow common access to our facilities at this time.’”
I click off the television, wondering what it was like when those reporters tried to get into The Program. Were Shep and Derek around? It had seemed so isolated when I was there. Maybe things are changing.
And for a second I’m afraid. If they stop The Program, leaving us as the only ones changed, what will happen? Will we be discriminated against forever? Does that mean there’s something wrong with us? I start to panic when, all of a sudden, the warm water is splashed over me