The Program (6 page)

I shoved his shoulder, but James laughed from across the table. “Don’t do it, man,” James told him with a smirk. “She’s like a black widow. She eats dudes like you for breakfast.”

And Miller just smiled as if the idea fascinated him. Lacey
wasn’t so easy to convince. But when they finally got together, they were happy. They were so happy.

“I’m sorry, Miller,” I say in a low voice. He nods and then turns suddenly to hug me. I rest my hand on the back of his neck as he squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe. I don’t tell him it’ll be okay because I don’t know if I can hope that it’s true.

Just then James walks into the living room, biting into an apple. He looks at us, tilting his head as if assessing the situation. He takes another bite and walks over, leaning down to put his arms around both of us. “Can I have some love too?” he asks in the stupid way he does when he’s trying to make sure we’re not getting too sad. He’s trying to distract us. He kisses loudly at Miller’s cheek, and I laugh, pushing him away.

James straightens, but Miller just stands and doesn’t say anything. James’s expression falters and he shoots me a warning look, as if telling me I shouldn’t have let Miller break down like that. I shrug because I didn’t mean to.

Glancing around the room to figure out what to do next, James walks to the fireplace mantel and picks up the latest family photo. “Man,” he says, looking at Miller. “Your mom is smokin’ hot in this picture.”

“Go to hell,” Miller says, biting his thumbnail again as he hovers in the doorway. They have this same conversation every time James sees Miller’s mom, who is indeed very pretty. She’s single, raising Miller by herself. She has blond hair and wears short skirts, and has a possible crush on my obnoxious boyfriend
who she says is going to be a “heartbreaker” when he gets older. Uh, yeah. Not if I can help it.

“I’m just saying,” James adds, walking back over to the couch and dropping down next to me. “If I didn’t have this one”—he hikes his thumb at me—“I might be your new stepdad.”

I laugh, slapping his thigh. “Hey!”

James winks at me and turns back to Miller. “I can teach you how to play catch in the backyard, okay, slugger?”

“Fine by me,” Miller says, his normally amused expression at the joke gone. “I’ll take Sloane in exchange. I need a new girlfriend anyway.”

Both James and I pause in our laughing, Miller adding a new twist to the routine. Only . . . he doesn’t say it like he’s joking. He glares at James, at me, and then turns away. “I’m going to make a sandwich,” he adds, and heads into the kitchen.

James’s mouth opens slightly as he stares after Miller, a bit of pink high on his cheeks. “I think he was serious,” he says, sounding confused. “Why would he say something like that?” James glances at me, his brow furrowed. “Does he like you?”

I shake my head, my stomach knotting. “No,” I say honestly. And the reason it’s so alarming is that we know it’s out of character, that it’s a break in Miller’s personality. It’s a sign we were taught to watch out for. “Should we talk to him about it?” I ask.

James puts his hand over his mouth, rubbing it as he thinks. “No,” he says finally. “I don’t want to upset him any more.” We’re quiet for a long minute, the sound of the refrigerator
opening and closing in the background. James looks at me. “And by the way, you’re not allowed to hook up with Miller.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll make you a deal. You don’t hook up with him, and I won’t hook up with his mom.”

“James!” I go to hit him again, but he captures my hand and then pulls me onto his lap, making it impossible for me to get up. James is so good at making everything normal that I start laughing, trying to twist out of his grip. When Miller walks back in, a sandwich in his hand, he pauses in the doorway—no emotion on his face.

I stop squirming, but James doesn’t let me go. He nods his chin at Miller. “We’re clear that Sloane’s mine, right?” he asks, not sounding combative, just curious. “That I love her and won’t let her go, not even to you. You know that?” I wonder what happened to the “let’s not upset him” argument.

Miller takes a bite of his turkey on rye and shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. “But we all know that things change. Whether we want them to or not.” And without betraying any emotion, Miller backs off and leaves, walking slowly up the stairs to his room.

James releases me and I sit next to him, stunned. Miller doesn’t have feelings for me, I know that. He’s just acting out. We’ve seen it before, how someone will piss off their friends or start sleeping around when depression takes hold. My brother acted out, but we denied it. We pretended not to see it. With that thought I turn to James, my face tight with worry. “Should I—”

“No,” James says, holding up his hand. “I will.” He kisses
the top of my head before walking to the stairs that lead to Miller’s room. He’s going to try a peer intervention, something we’ve been taught since the seventh grade. “This might take a while,” he says to me.

I nod, and then watch as James goes up to try to bring Miller back.

•  •  •

In Miller’s small, rooster-themed kitchen, I make some chicken noodle soup and eat it with crackers before washing out the pot. When I get tired of waiting, I move to sit on the stairs, listening for any sounds above as I rest my head against the wall.

It’s forty-five minutes later when James appears on the landing. He smiles at me, a look that’s to tell me everything worked out. Miller walks past him, and I back up into the foyer and watch him as he comes to pause in front of me.

“James says you’d never go for me because he’s a better kisser than I am,” Miller starts. “I told him we should put it to the test, and he punched me in the gut so hard I almost puked.”

I dart an alarmed look at my boyfriend and he shrugs.

“It’s okay,” Miller says, touching my arm. “I deserved it. I was being a dick, and I’m sorry.” His mouth quirks up in a smile. “I’m not really attracted to you, Sloane. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

I roll my eyes and look back at James as he drops slowly down each stair. “Did you really hit him?”

“That’s my idea of intervention. Worked, right?”

James is always thinking like that, that if he can distract
us long enough we’ll forget how messed up everything is. He’s right. It does work. But will it always? Will he always be able to make us laugh through our tears? I stare at him then, knowing how much I depend on him, on how he makes me feel. His smile fades as if he’s reading the serious expression on my face. Rather than make a joke, he looks at the wooden floor.

“Do you guys want to watch a movie?” Miller asks, sounding more alive than he has all day. “My mom won’t be back until four.”

“Your mom—” James begins.

“Shut up,” Miller and I say at the same time. James chuckles, finally glancing up, looking flawlessly charming. All is well. All is . . . normal.

We go into the living room, wasting an afternoon as if it were any other. But I can’t help stealing looks out the window, constantly checking for the men in white coats.

FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS, MILLER IS HIMSELF—OR A
close enough version of himself. When he’s not drawing in his notepad, he’s staring out the window during class. Lacey must not have turned him in because the handlers haven’t approached him yet. But there is one handler still hanging around, the creepy dark-haired one who side-eyes me. I don’t mention him to James or Miller, worried they’ll start a fight and get into trouble. Instead, I just avoid his gaze, trying not to get too freaked out.

“Miller,” James asks as we walk out on Friday. “Are you sure you don’t want to come camping? It’ll be nice out there—quiet.”

“Naw, man,” Miller answers, taking his baseball cap out of his backpack and adjusting the brim. “I’m just gonna chill at home, play some video games. Maybe stop by the Wellness Center.”

“You should come,” I say. “You’re going to be lonely.”

Miller looks at me as he puts his hat on, a smile on his face. “It’s one night, Sloane. It’ll be fine. Besides, I already know how camping goes with you two.” He motions between James and me. “And no offense, but I’m not really in the mood for your public displays of affection.”

James laughs and moves to put his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Not true,” he says. “We always wait until you’re asleep.”

I laugh and push him off me. But Miller still doesn’t agree to join us, promising that he will next week. I don’t want to leave him behind, but I don’t think I can stay in town, either. I like being out in the woods. I like pretending that there’s no Program.

And so we say good-bye to Miller and climb into James’s dad’s car, heading for the coast.

•  •  •

When we were younger, Brady and I would go camping together. My brother was an expert outdoorsman, so our parents let us go when I was just twelve and he was thirteen, although they’d come and check on us a few times. And when I was fifteen, they finally let us go on our own, as long as James was there too.

That first night, as I sat next to the fire pit, I watched James put the tent together while Brady was across the site, chopping wood. James had just turned sixteen, and his blond hair had grown out so that he had to swipe at it with the back of his hand. He was such a boy, shirtless and sweating, muscles already cording on his tall frame. And at one point, he looked sideways at me, almost startled to see me sitting there, staring at him.

Then his mouth spread into a grin. “You checking me out, Sloane?”

My face must have gone completely red because he apologized immediately, but I had already gotten up to walk to the spot that overlooked the ocean, unable to answer. He was right. I had been checking him out. It had never occurred to me before that moment that I thought of James as anything more than a friend, my
brother’s
friend. I even had a boyfriend, Liam. Sure, I didn’t much like him, just one of those “we have classes together so let’s go out” type of relationships. But still, Lacey told me it’d be weird if I said no to Liam. I hadn’t even let him hold my hand in the two months we were together—and believe me, that counted as pretty weird in everyone’s book. And yet, there I was checking out James Murphy.

I sat on the sand embankment and bent my knees, resting my elbows on them. James had lots of girlfriends, never any serious. And now that I thought about it, James dating other girls twisted my stomach. I groaned out loud, wondering how I could have let myself be so stupid.

“God, Sloane” I heard. “I was only kidding.”

I straightened my back, unable to turn to face James. But I knew him, and there was no way he’d leave me without finding out what was going on. Then, sure enough, he was standing over me. “You okay?” he asked. His voice held no hint as to what he was thinking; whether he was embarrassed for me, whether he had even noticed that he was right about the way I’d been looking at him.

I nodded, but he just chuckled. He tossed a tent pole on the
sand in front of us and dropped down next me, bumping me as he did. James was big, and I fell to my side, catching myself with my hands. Normally I would have pushed him back, but I didn’t want to touch him. I wanted to figure out how to make my feelings go away. Me, James, and Brady were a team. I didn’t want to mess it up.

“Holy hell,” he said, sounding amused. “You really were checking me out.”

“I wasn’t,” I said quickly, turning to him. But it was too late. James read the truth all over my face. His easy smile slid away from his lips.

“Sloane,” he whined my name. “You don’t get to do that. This can’t . . . We can’t . . .” He stopped, his beautiful eyes holding nothing but pity for me. So I did the only thing I could. I punched him in the chest, making him gasp, and got up and walked away.

And here we are, over two years later. Once again I’m watching James build a tent, but this time my brother’s dead. James’s hair isn’t in his eyes, but he brushes at his forehead absently anyway. At one point, he looks sideways at me, but he doesn’t smile like he did that day. Instead his eyes are weary from putting up the tent by himself. He presses his lips together in an “I miss him too” sort of expression and I look away.

The team broke up, but it wasn’t me who did it. It was Brady.

•  •  •

The fire crackles, the heat licking out toward my boots. The sun set a few hours ago, but neither of us said much throughout the day. It was nice that we didn’t have to.

James taps my leg with a thin stick and I take it from him, looking next to me. “Marshmallow?” he asks, holding one out between his thumb and finger. I watch as the amber light plays off his features: his strong jaw, his golden hair. I smile.

“You’re beautiful,” I say.

“I look good naked too,” he adds. “You didn’t mention that.”

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?” He pretends to be offended, and then takes a bite out of the marshmallow before tossing the rest into the fire. James immediately drops out of his chair, crawling over to mine and grabbing me, pulling me down into the dirt with him.

“James . . . ,” I start to say, laughing. But his lips are on mine, tasting sticky and sweet. He lays me back, his knee nudging my legs apart as he starts kissing my neck. “James,” I murmur again, only this time it’s with longing.

I love this—this moment. Because as we roll on the ground, the fire burning hot as James peels off my clothes, I can block out everything else. I can focus on how good I feel right now. I can pretend that there is nothing else but us.

And when we’re done and James is panting next me, proud of himself as he should be, I stare at the stars in the sky. I lie there for a long time as James pulls his T-shirt back over his head, collecting the wrapper to toss out. When he comes back, he gets down next to me, moving my head onto his lap as we watch the sky together.

“Brady’s a star up there,” he says, “in some distant place where he doesn’t hurt.” James’s voice cracks and he stops talking.
He sniffles, the tears rolling down his cheeks. He always lets his guard down enough to talk in moments like this—the only time his feelings are so raw he can’t hide them.