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, Thank you for your interest in participating in Monstera Bio Sciences’ Obexity™
Clinical Trial—Phase II. After reviewing your application, I’m delighted to inform you that you match
the participant profile described in the study protocol, the first stage of trial qualification. Fewer than 2
percent of applicants make it this far.
Congratulations! 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. We are partnering with Cronus Health to
complete this process. Your medical assessment has been scheduled for 9 a. m. on Monday, April 24, at
3450 Bonita Rd., #109 in Chula Vista. Should you need to reschedule this appointment, please contact
the facility directly.
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, Ph D 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 cre eps. 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.”