The idea that I’m being hunted, watched, is terrifying. “So Dr. Warren is behind this?” I ask. “She has the handlers?”
“Dr. Warren is a part of it,” Melody says, checking over her shoulder again, looking impatient. “But no, she’s not in charge. They all have handlers—Warren, Marie, Wyatt. But Dr. Warren is the only one connected to The Program.”
I’m confused, and I know we don’t have time to sort it all out. “So who’s the villain?” I ask.
To this Melody smiles ruefully. “Society,” she responds. “Now, take care of yourself. And tell Nathan...” She stumbles over his name. “Tell Nathan that I loved him. For real. And that I’m really sorry.”
I swallow hard, watching the hurt cross her features. And then Melody Blackstone eases my door shut, looking around the deserted lot, and runs back toward the school.
CHAPTER THREE
I SIT IN MY JEEP, my head throbbing. I reach up to feel the area, the slight, fist-size swelling. I check in the mirror but can’t see the damage. That’s good, I guess. It would be a lot harder to act “normal” if I had a black eye.
But as I stare at myself, I’m awash in shame—even though I did nothing wrong. Embarrassment. And most of all, pure terror. My eyes well up and tears spill over, racing down my cheeks. I sniffle, crying openly as I try to wipe away the dried blood under my nose.
His hands on me. It’s all I can feel, and I run my palms over my arms like I can replace the sensation. Take back my agency.
I look out the window toward the school. “Bastard,” I whisper, my lips sore from where he crushed them to keep me quiet. I let anger in to replace some of my vulnerability. I want to go back in and give Derek a few kicks while he’s down. I’m not even violent, but he not onlyhitme, he was going to take me to The Program and let them... I don’t know, erase me? Lobotomize me?
He was going to kill me—this version of me. Melody saved my life.
And it was smart of Melody to suggest that I not tell anyone about this, but it’s unrealistic. And it’s pretty clear that the most important person on my interview list is Michael Realm. She said he knows everything that happened. Well, he neglected to mention that he and I were friends. Now, why would he leave that out? What else did he forget to tell me?
Before I can ask him, I’ll have to find him.
I take out my phone and click through the numbers. I only have a few days to help Marie find a cure, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll have to leave town. Go on the run.
I can alert the authorities about The Program, sure. But how will I know who’s in on it? The Program is underground, and I have to believe that people in positions of power are the ones driving it.
Melody said society is the villain, and I get what she means. Our desire for a quick fix to our problems, our fear of death. Our parents and guardians will do anything to keep us safe, even if that means not letting us live our own lives. And our teachers and bosses want us to behave, do our work. That’s a lot easier when we can’t remember what we’re sad about.
If The Program expands, it won’t just be to treat an epidemic. It will be to treat free will. It will be to control us. I don’t consider myself a hero, but I will fight to stop them. Marie thinks she has a cure, and I want to believe it. Even if it might get me lobotomized.
I click my grandfather’s number and bring the phone to my ear. I wince, the entire side of my head hurting. I put the call on speaker instead, dropping the phone into the cup holder, and start the engine of the Jeep.
“You okay?” Pop says as a way of answering. I smile, relieved to hear his voice, and drive out of the parking lot. I’m so grateful to have my grandparents back on my side—especially now. We still have a lot to work through, obviously, but I love them. And I know they love me.
“It’s a long story,” I say, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. I’m not going to keep the incident with Derek a secret, but now isn’t the time for this kind of information. It’ll frighten them, distract them from what I need them to do for me.
“Have you found out anything about Michael Realm?” I ask. “The guy I mentioned?”
“Ah...,” my grandfather says, and there’s a rustling of papers. “Speak of the devil. Your grandmother and I were just looking into that.”
“Hi, honey,” my gram calls out from somewhere in the room.
“Hi, Gram,” I reply. She must be skipping work to help him research, and I can’t think of another time when that’s happened. She doesn’t get involved in his investigations, but I guess this one is different. This is for me.
Pop tells me he’s putting me on speaker, and I stop at a red light. I adjust the phone in the cup holder.
“Any luck finding him?” I ask.
“Not yet,” he admits. “But he has quite a past.”
My stomach turns, afraid another world-upending revelation might just wreck me. “What kind of past?” I ask.
“Just a lot of chatter,” he says. “Nothing verified yet. But he was definitely involved with the reporter who broke the story on The Program—the one who got it shut down.”
“He was friends with Sloane Barstow and James Murphy,” I say. “So I guess that makes sense.”
