Chapter 8
Emmett would have thrown out the letter with the junk mail and bank statements had he not noticed the Monstera logo poking out of the corner of the stack as his hand hovered over the trash can. He tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter tucked inside.
Dear Mr. Truesdale,
To be cleared for participation, you must first undergo a medical assessment to ensure your body is “fit” enough to withstand the rigors of the trial.
Following your successful assessment, you will receive your enrollment paperwork, disclosures regarding the results of the Phase I trial, informed consent forms, and nondisclosure agreement.
Carefully review all documentation, complete as requested, and return to us using the provided envelope as soon as possible.
Failure to do so may result in immediate disqualification.
Please contact me with any questions, and best of luck. I should hope to officially welcome you to the trial very soon.
With health and happiness,
Jenni Saito, PhD
Director, Product Development
With health and happiness. Emmett paused over the words. Dr. Saito had said something similar at the information session. As it had then, something about it gave him the creeps.
But Emmett was happy, probably for the first time since the humiliation of Harper’s birthday.
He cringed, remembering how Abby had caught him stuffing his face in the kitchen, how he’d practically sprinted out of the house and ignored the texts she’d sent for days afterward, first concerned, then frustrated, then vaguely insulting, before circling back to concerned again.
Abby had never known the full extent of Emmett’s issues with food—not for her lack of trying, but how could he trust her when he never knew whether she was going to be on his side or against?
Lizette walked past him into the kitchen.
“What’s that?” she said, pulling a coconut water from the fridge.
“Nothing.” Emmett folded the letter back up.
Lizette gave him a teacherly look and with a sigh he handed it over.
“I was going to tell you,” he said as she read.
Finally she handed it back.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, Emmettito. I support you no matter what you do.”
“Really?” He smiled. “Thanks.”
Lizette called over her shoulder as she walked back to her room, “Just remember: when the apocalypse comes, the skinny bitches starve first.”