The Program erased my memories. The Adjustment put them back. I’ve been manipulated twice.
I meet Nathan’s eyes, his shining with the same realization. “Why did Dr. McKee act like he was meeting me for the first time?” I ask. “Why doesn’t anyone know I had an Adjustment? And...” I pause, fixing my stare accusingly on Nathan. “And how did they get my memories?” I ask.
“Not me,” he says quickly, hand on his heart. “I didn’t donate anything, so if that’s what happened, they lied to me, too.”
Nathan, Foster, and I sit quietly, digesting this information. I think back to when Nathan and I went to the Adjustment office for the first time, how familiar Dr. McKee seemed. Now I know why.
“Do you think Marie knows?” I ask, trying to figure out her angle.
“Definitely,” Nathan says. “They all know, Tatum. Including Pop and Gram.”
As if he summoned them, there’s the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. It’s too early for either of my grandparents to be home from work, but when I get up and peek out the window, I see it’s my grandfather again. Guess he cut his day short. Unless, of course, I’m still being watched, and someone let him know I have company. I wrap my arms around myself.
I ask Nathan and Foster if I should mention the box I found in the closet, and they both shake their heads no as the front door opens.
“Play dumb,” Foster murmurs.
My grandfather smiles widely when he sees them, welcoming and warm. “Hello, boys. I didn’t know we were having a party.” He grins at me like today never happened. It’s unsettling.
“Hey,” Foster says, holding out his hand. But Pop pauses before shaking it.
“Don’t you have mono?” he asks, making Nathan snort a laugh.
“It’s the flu,” Foster says. “But just in case, we shouldn’t kiss.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Pop says, and slaps him on the shoulder. “Nathan,” he says, in a slightly different tone. “Where were you at lunch today? Tatum’s Jeep wouldn’t start.”
Nathan swallows hard, and I see he’s having trouble playing along with my and Foster’s dumb act. “Jana wasn’t feeling well, so I took her home. Plus... we had to talk.”
“Oh?” my grandfather asks, as if it’s completely normal that Nathan would tell him about his love life. It’s not. Nathan never had a love life. “Sounds serious.”
“We’re working on some things,” Nathan adds, diverting his eyes.
I exchange a look with Foster, and we both must be wondering if Nathan is laying it on thick, or if he and Jana really had a “talk.” What about? Are they having problems?
Foster swallows, about to say something, but instead he starts coughing and doubles over, gripping the side of the couch. I go over to help him, and he tries to catch his breath.
“I should get home,” he says between gasps.
“Same,” Nathan adds apologetically.
“I’ll walk you guys out,” I offer, rubbing Foster’s back until he can straighten.
“Well, I’m sorry neither of you could stay for dinner,” my grandfather says, folding his arms across his chest. “Next time.”
“Absolutely,” Nathan says for both of them, and takes his house key out of his pocket. He nods good-bye to my grandfather before following behind me and Foster. When the three of us get onto the porch, I close the door and Nathan leans in.
“I’m not imagining—”
“No, it was weird,” I say, glancing back at the house. “He’s acting too normal. We should have confronted him, but...” I trail off. “Maybe when Gram comes home?” I say it even though I know I probably won’t have the guts to confront her yet either.
“Listen,” Foster says to me. “Leave them out of it for now. We have bigger problems.” He winces. “More immediate problems,” he corrects. “You need to watch out for Derek. We have to worry about your past, but we also have to worry about our futures. I told you before and I mean it now—I think there are handlers everywhere. We need to be careful.”
“You really think he’s a handler?” Nathan asks, scrunching up his face.
“We’ll talk about it on the way to your house,” Foster says, and then makes a kiss face to say good-bye to me. Nathan pulls me into a quick hug, whispering again that he’s sorry in my ear.
Foster and Nathan head down the steps and walk across the driveway to Nathan’s house next door. Thick clouds have gathered in the sky, gray and angry, as Foster and Nathan talk in hushed voices. I can see how much the idea of handlers worries Nathan. It worries all of us. Because handlers mean The Program isn’t dead at all. Maybe it never was.
