“You’re the love of my life, Wes,” I say, looking sideways at him.
Wes flashes me that devastating grin, the kind that can convince me of anything. The kind that made me fall in love with him in the first place.
“It’s three lives for me,” he says like it’s a competition. He looks over my face, pausing at my lips. “So let’s make this one count.”
I smile that we will, and when he leans in to kiss me, groaning once at the pain in his shoulder, I think that we’ll both be okay.
I think I’ve made the right choices this time.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SCHOOL IS WEIRD. AFTER BEINGattacked several times and fighting for your life, sitting through science class is a bit anticlimactic. But we made it. We earned this mediocrity.
Foster is next to me, filling in the last questions on our lab report as I stare dreamily out the window.
He made good on his promise to find the handlers. There were thirty-seven in our school. The number is staggering, shocking. I wonder if there was ever a moment when I wasn’t being watched.
The monitor is still around, but there are no more assessments. No more fear. Dr. Angela Wyatt is partnering with Marie and the FDA, administering Adjustments on a voluntary basis. They all agreed that forced treatment isn’t the answer. They voted for transparency, and because of that, returners come to them in droves, hoping to be cured.
A special counsel has been appointed by Congress, investigating the role of The Program in deaths of returners. Throughout the country, nearly three hundred teens died. Numerous doctors and psychiatrists attribute those crashback deaths to procedures used in The Program. The special counsel found The Program criminally and monetarily liable.
Marie was able to keep me anonymous, and it was decided that she would take credit for creating the pattern that destroyed The Program. They didn’t want to tie it in to Arthur Pritchard or the victims of the grief department—Luther’s advice. Gaining back the public trust wouldn’t be easy.
But the pattern worked. People are getting better. The worst of the epidemic, its aftermath, is over.
After all this time, it’s finally over.
The bell rings, and Foster and I grab our bags and head to lunch. We’re staying in today, as we’ve done for the past few weeks. Like Foster said, the purity of recess.
“Holy shit,” Foster says as we walk down the hall, looking down at his phone. “Arturo just sent me this.” He holds it out to me, and I gasp. “Says she was in Colorado,” Foster adds.
It’s a link to a news article about Dr. Warren. She disappeared the night we found the cure. Her office had been cleaned out, the office of Mr. Castle also empty. She disappeared into the wind, and it left us looking over our shoulder. Dr. Warren didn’t have any power, but then again, we’d underestimated her before.
“?‘Warren was taken into custody at a Chipotle in Denver,’?” Foster reads, and then laughs. “That’s actually fucking hilarious,” he says.
“Does it say what they’re charging her with?” I ask. Part of me worries I’ll get dragged into a lengthy trial, but Marie already told me I’d be redacted from all records pertaining to Dr. Warren. She said she had plenty on her without bringing up the fact that she sent people to kidnap me.
“Uh...” He scans the page. “No,” he says. “It just says she’s been wanted in connection with illegal memory manipulation and crimes against the state.” He looks at me, and a moment passes, acknowledging all she put me through. “She’ll never get out of prison,” he says.
I nod that it’s good; she deserves it. But the terrible truth is they never tracked down the main backers of The Program. They got a few—hell, three senators were indicted. The Program was everywhere and yet under the radar. They could have changed the world—controlled it.
But we stopped them.Us—regular people. And a doctor and the FDA and the CDC, but still—mostly us.
Foster and I get to the doorway to the courtyard and scan the area. I find Nathan and Wes immediately, the two of them laughing as Nathan continues telling whatever story he has. They’ve become pretty decent friends, and Nathan says that he likes this new Wes a whole hell of a lot better than the old one. But really, he’s just given him a chance now. He would have liked the old Wes too.
“There you are,” Arturo says, coming up to Foster. They smile, exchange a quick kiss, and Arturo says hello to me. “I’m guessing you saw the news?” he asks, raising his dark eyebrows.
“I did. Pretty wild, right?” I reply.
“Yeah, well,” Arturo says, pursing his lips and glancing over at Nathan. “Not as wild as Nathan Harmon and Melody Blackstone meeting up last night.”
“What?” I ask, widening my eyes. Arturo gets the best information. He and Melody actually stayed friends, and with his help, he got her and Nathan to speak again.
“He’s going to kill you for telling me,” I say to Arturo, making him laugh.
“I’m not worried,” he replies, and takes Foster’s hand to lead him to our lunch spot. I hang back a moment and watch Wes.
His hair has grown longer since that night at Marie’s, a little unruly and adorable. He didn’t need surgery on his shoulder but had physical therapy for weeks. The injury left a small bump, a permanent reminder of what his mother was responsible for.
