I smile. “When Rex Wisteria pegged me with a plastic ball from the pit?”
Nathan nods, looking proud of himself. Nathan isn’t exactly a fighter, but he beat the shit out of that kid when we were in eighth grade. Of course, Rex deserved it. He’d been torturing me at school, and when he saw me at the restaurant without my grandparents, he tried to continue. Only this time Nathan was there, and he pounced. A fight in a Chuck E. Cheese ball pit is certainly something to behold. Rex never messed with me again.
“I love you,” I tell him.
“Yeah,” he says, lifting one corner of his mouth. “I love you, too.”
He gets out of the Jeep, and although I’m frightened—terrified, really—I don’t think Marie would call me, drag me down here, only to forcibly adjust me. Again. She’s far too clever to be that obvious.
The door is locked, and I press the buzzer to let Marie know I’m here. It’s quiet, apart from a few birds in the cherry trees along the road.
The door opens, and Marie nods a hello at Nathan—her mouth tight. He flashes her a winning smile, part sarcastic, and she tells us both to come in. She leaves it unlatched.
We get inside the lobby, and I’m stunned by her appearance. Marie is a beautiful woman, but today she is a tragic figure. Her dark skin has taken on a greenish hue, her red lipstick gone and her lips chapped. By the swelling around her eyes, I can see she’s been crying. It actually chokes me up a little bit, and I clear my throat to regain my composure.
It’s then that I see the picture of Dr. McKee, the one Nathan joked about the first time we came to the Adjustment office. Marie must have hung it back up today.
“When’s the last time you spoke to Melody?” Marie asks, folding her arms over her chest.
“Yesterday,” Nathan says. “But if you think she’s going to come back and work for you, you’re insane.”
“I don’t want her to work for me,” Marie says curtly. “I’m worried about her. There are things you don’t understand, Nathan. Other forces at work here. She can’t just disappear; believe me when I say that doesn’t typically lead to a good outcome.”
“Typically,” I repeat. “Meaning it’s happened before?”
“Not with Melody,” Marie says with a shake of her head. “I’ve known her for years, since she was a child really. She helped us in the grief department, and then she decided to work for The Program, against my and Dr. McKee’s wishes.”
Nathan flinches and sniffs as he looks away.
“But when The Program was getting shut down, Melody came to me. She felt horrible about what she’d been a part of. She wanted to make amends. So she began to help us here, watching returners and correcting those we could.”
“You didn’t correct anybody,” I say.
She levels her gaze on me. “We corrected you,” she replies. “Now, as you know, The Program is still operating. They have their own handlers, ones who have no part in the cure. I’m not sure who else is involved.”
I look at Nathan. “Derek’s one, I bet.”
“He is,” Marie agrees. “He’s been a handler with them for years.”
The confirmation chills me, and I turn back to Marie. “I saw him talking to Melody,” I say.
“She was attempting to dissuade him from following you. Derek is... stubborn.”
“He’s an asshole,” I correct, and she smiles.
“Yes, he is definitely that, too. But Melody was looking out for you, Tatum.”
I have a flash of regret, having always assumed the worst about Melody. Sure, she wasn’t honest with us, but I’m grateful that she tried to get Derek off my back. I’m grateful she put herself on the line for that. Maybe I’ve been unfair to her.
“It makes sense,” I say. “About Derek? Realm told me that The Program was after me.”
“Michael?” Marie asks. “What else did he tell you?” I don’t like that she expects me to answer so easily, and she must read that in my stance. “Michael always says The Program is after people—it’s how he thinks,” she explains. “My biggest concern right now is for Melody. She and Michael are friends, and I want to talk to him. But he hasn’t returned my calls.”
The fact that he’s not returning her calls heartens me; it means he wasn’t lying when he said he was done with the Adjustment.
“What does The Program want from me, Marie?” I ask. “Because I’m not buying the ‘Realm is paranoid’ excuse.”
“I didn’t say he was paranoid,” Marie corrects. “Although he is most of the time. It’s what makes Michael Realm excellent at his job. But you asked me about The Program, what they want—it’s not a simple answer. There are a lot of moving parts here, Tatum. As you know, Dr. Warren has been your therapist; she’s been keeping an eye on you.”
