Free The Program by Suzanne Young Page B

away from him. “Really?” he asks, obviously knowing the answer. “Well, then how about Lacey Klamath? Or perhaps your brother? Were you close with them?”
    I must visibly pale when he mentions Brady because he bows his head as if apologizing. “Miss Barstow, it has come to our attention that you are high-risk. You’ve suffered tremendous loss recently, so it’s only my intention to evaluate you.”
    He’s lying. He wants to flag me. They don’t care about us, only the appearance that what they do works. I curl my toes hard in my shoes as the handler runs his eyes slowly over me. Goose bumps rise on my skin.
    “Let’s start with Miller. You were out of town when he terminated himself, correct?”
    I hate him for making it sound clinical. “Yes.”
    “And Lacey was your best friend, but you were not aware of her condition before she was sent to The Program? You weren’t trying to hide it from us?”
    “No. I had no idea.” And then I can sense what’s coming.
    “Are you hiding anything now?”
    “No.” I keep my face as calm as possible, meeting his eyes. I imagine that I’m a robot, void of feelings. Void of life.
    “Do you have a boyfriend, Sloane?” The corner of hismouth curves up when he asks, as if he’s some guy I just met who’s trying to flirt.
    “Yes.”
    “James Murphy?”
    Oh, God. “Mm-hmm.”
    “And how is he doing?”
    “James is fine. He’s strong.”
    “Are you strong?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks at me.
    “Yes.”
    The handler nods then. “It’s only our hope to keep you well, Sloane. You know that right?”
    I don’t respond, wondering what James will say under these questions. If they’ll know from one look that he’s sick.
    “There is voluntary admittance into The Program if you start to feel overwhelmed. Or if you just need someone to talk to.” He reaches out then and pats my thigh, a move that catches me off guard, and I jump.
    The handler stands up and walks around my chair as if he’s leaving. Instead he stops behind me, putting his hand on my shoulder. His fingers tighten on the muscle. “Have a good day, Sloane. Something tells me I’ll be seeing you again soon.”
    And then he drops his arm and walks out, leaving me alone in the darkened room.
    •  •  •
    I practically run to lunch, terrified that James won’t be there. I stop, swaying on my feet when I see him at our table, drinking from a carton of orange juice.
    “You’re okay,” I say when I reach him, practically collapsing onto his lap as I hug myself to him. He doesn’t hug me back, but he doesn’t push me off, either. I press my face to his neck.
    “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’m okay.”
    I pull back and look at his face, trying to gauge how damaged he is. His skin is pale and his mouth is sagging, like he’s forgotten how to smile. I run my fingers over his cheek, and he closes his eyes when I do. “I was so worried,” I whisper.
    He doesn’t move, and I hug him again, holding him tight like I want him to do for me, but he doesn’t. After a while I let him go, and he starts to eat, taking small bites of his food. He stares across the cafeteria, but at no particular point. Just away.
    “Has anyone interviewed you?” I ask.
    He shakes his head no.
    “They pulled me from class,” I say.
    James looks over at me. “What happened?”
    “They asked about Miller. About you. . . .”
    He doesn’t react; instead he just turns back to his food. I miss him so much, even though he’s right in front me. He’s not the same. “No one’s spoken to me,” he says. “I haven’t even seen any handlers today.”
    And although that should make me feel better, his statement only makes me more uneasy. Why did they pull me? Either I was the one being evaluated or they were collecting evidence on James. I’m not sure which it was.
    “I want to get out of town,” I say. “Do you think you can get away? I want to go camping again.”
    James chews slowly. “I can