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For a second, he stands there with his back to me. Then he returns to the table.

I finish the email before looking at him. “Thank you.”

“Fuck you.”

He had a better vocabulary when I picked him. “That isn’t how we respond to praise. Keep it up and I’ll wash your mouth out.”

Jamie picks up a green pencil.

Still day one, I remind myself. Most of them don’t even make it out of their rooms without a zap by day two. He’s a good doll.

By noon, Jamie has colored half a page. Mostly black. I’ve had brattier. We can try something else tomorrow.

I close my laptop. “Lunch.”

He puts the pencil down immediately. At least he likes eating.

I make sandwiches, remove his crusts, and cut up an apple while Jamie sits at the table. He watches everything I do.

“Is this drugged?”

“Not yet.” I take his plate to the table, then get the bottle from the cabinet.

“Is that needed?”

“I have errands.”

“Are you gonna do this every time you leave the house?”

“Yes.” I add his medicine to his drink. “And every morning you’ll get something to help with your attitude.”

Jamie watches me do it. “What if I don’t drink that?”

“Then I’ll give it to you another way. It’s much less pleasant.” I put the glass beside his plate.

He doesn’t touch it.

I sit across from him and start eating my own lunch.

“I don’t want this. Please.”

I nod toward the glass. “It’s just until I can trust you.”

“You kidnapped me.”

“Yes.”

“And somehow I’m the one with the trust problem.”

“You broke your jewelry box.”

“Heather, look at me. Please. I won’t tear shit up while you run errands. Lock me in my room, but please.” He closes his eyes.

“Drink it. I won’t ask nicely again.” I take another bite of my sandwich.

When he opens his eyes again, he picks up his glass.

“Good boy.”