I hug him, letting the images of Brady fade from my head, along with the picture of Lacey being dragged from her house by handlers. I slide my hand under the sleeve of James’s T-shirt and onto his bicep where his tattoos are.
The Program makes us anonymous, strips us of our right to mourn—because if we do, we can get flagged for appearing depressed. So James has found another way. On his right arm he’s keeping a list in permanent ink of those we’ve lost. Starting with Brady.
“I’m having bad thoughts,” I tell him.
“Then stop thinking,” he says simply.
“They took Kendra last period. It was horrible. And Lacey—”
“Stop thinking,” James says again, a little more forcefully.
I look up at him, the heaviness still in my chest as I meet his eyes. It’s hard to tell in the shadows, but James’s eyes are light blue, the sort of crystal blue that can make anyone stop with just a glance. He’s stunning that way.
“Kiss me instead,” he murmurs. I lean forward to press my lips to his, letting him have me in a way that only he can. A moment filled with sadness and hope. A bond of secrets and promises of forever.
It’s been two years since my brother died. Practically overnight, our lives were changed. We don’t know why Brady killed himself, why he abandoned us. But then again, no one knows what’s causing the epidemic—not even The Program.
Above us the bell for class rings, but neither James nor I react. Instead James’s tongue touches mine and he pulls me closer, deepening our kiss. Although dating is allowed, we try to keep our relationship low-key at school, at least when we can. The Program claims that forming healthy bonds keeps us emotionally strong, but then again, if it all goes horribly wrong, they can just make us forget. The Program can erase anything.
“I swiped my dad’s car keys,” James whispers between my lips. “What do you say we go skinny-dipping in the river after school?”
“How about you get naked and I’ll just watch?”
“Works for me.”
I laugh, and James gives me one more squeeze before taking his arms from around me. He pretends to fix my hair, really just messing it up more. “Better get to class,” he says finally. “And tell Miller he’s invited to watch me swim naked too.”
I back away, first kissing my fingers and then holding them up in a wave. James smiles.
He always knows what to say to me. How to make me feel normal. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have survived Brady’s death without him. If fact, I know I wouldn’t have.
After all, suicide is contagious.
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN I WALK INTO ECONOMICS, I TELL MY TEACHER that therapy ran late, taking out one of the fake passes that me, James, and Miller made weeks ago. Since The Program started monitoring our school, I’ve found that my boyfriend is not only a talented liar but also a master of forgery. A handy skill to have as of late.
Mr. Rocco only glances at the pass before motioning me toward the back. It’s the fifth time I’ve been late this month, but luckily no one ever questions me. I’ve learned how to appear well. And in their eyes, talking to a professional is a sign that I’m trying to stay healthy.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Miller says when I sit down. “You and James have a good therapy session?” He’s sitting in the desk next to mine, staring into his lap as the teacher turns to write on the dry-erase board.
Miller and I have been friends since the beginning of last year, sharing most of our classes together. He’s tall and wide, and I imagine if our high school had a football team, he’d be their star athlete.
“Yep,” I respond. “Think we really had a breakthrough this time.”
“I bet.”
He smiles but doesn’t look over. Instead he continues to doodle in a notepad that he’s got stashed under the desk. My heart thuds in my chest at what I have to say next.
“Lacey’s back,” I say quietly.
Miller scratches his pen harder into the paper. “Where’d you hear that?” I try not to react as the color drains from his face.
“Kendra Phillips told me before they came and . . .” I lower my voice. “Took her.”
Miller finally looks sideways at me, obviously hearing about Kendra for the first time. His brown eyes narrow, maybe deciding if he truly believes that Lacey could be home. But then he just nods and goes back to his notepad. Never saying a word.
His silence nearly breaks me, and I spread my fingers out on the cool desktop, trying to keep my emotions in check. I stare down at my fingers, at the plastic heart-shaped ring there. James had given it to me the first time he kissed me—a few months before my brother died. Lacey and Miller always joked that this ring was the closest I’d ever come to getting a real diamond from him. Then James would laugh, saying that he knew what I really wanted and it didn’t sparkle.
It was a different time then—a time when we all thought we’d make it. I close my eyes to keep from crying.
“I think . . .” Miller pauses, like he’s not sure he wants to say it. When I turn to him he bites on his lip. “I think I’m going to go to Sumpter to see her.”
“Miller—” I start, but he waves me away.
“I have to know if she remembers me, Sloane. I won’t be able to think of anything else until I know.”
I watch him for a long moment, see the pain behind his eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change his mind. Not when he loves her so much. “Be careful” is all I can utter.
“I will.”
My fear is strong enough to choke me. I worry that Miller will get caught at the alternative school and be flagged in the process. We’re expected to keep our distance from the returners unless the time is monitored at the Wellness Center, at least for a while. If we’re caught interfering with their recovery, we can get flagged or even arrested. And none of us wants to be sent away to become comfortably numb.
Miller is quiet through the rest of class, but when the bell rings, he gives me a nod. It might be dangerous for him to approach Lacey at this point, but if she was herself she’d want him to try. “See you at lunch,” he says, touching my shoulder before walking toward the door.
“See you then,” I respond, and quickly pull out my phone. I text James. MILLER’S GOT A STUPID PLAN.
I wait, still in my seat as the classroom filters out around me. When a message pops up on the screen, I feel my chest tighten.