GRACE: That’s why we’re all surviving.

PODOLSKY: Grace—

GRACE: I gotta go. I…[cough] I needed you to know that.

GRACE: Thank you.

This phone call has been disconnected.

Thirty-three

Logan

Grace exposed herself to the plague to get those ration cards.

We all know what happened. Word spreads, whether Grace wants it to or not. She doesn’t want to come in. She doesn’t want anyone to get close. And it’s not how it’s supposed to be. She’s supposed to go to the infirmary and allow Casey to treat her. She’s supposed to recover and be a part of this—this weird family we’ve built.

But I don’t think she will. Everyone in Hope goes to see her at some point during the day. Riley and Nia and I keep ourselves away from the others and stick to our rooms as much as we can, but we do too. It’s Grace. We can’t just ignore her or what she did.

When I walk over to the garden right before lunch, Emerson is standing near the fruit trees. They keep an eye out to make sure no one gets too close—including themself. They’re fiddling with the necklace around their neck.

Grace is bundled up in blankets. She’s sitting in the shade of the shed, sheltered from all the things that can’t harm her anyway. She has a cell phone lying in her lap. She looks at me with bloodshot eyes and determination and something so close to anger.

I don’t know what to say to her. I have to figure something out.

I take a step back and nearly collide with Casey, who is running back and forth between the garden and the infirmary, between the people he’s forced to protect and the best friend he has to let go. He swerves at the last possible instant, taking care to keep a distance between us. “Sorry, Logan.”

“It’s okay,” I sign.

He’s holding a plastic water bottle in his hands, and he seems intent on rolling it in Grace’s direction. To take care of her, even if she won’t allow him to come close enough.

It’s not okay. He’s grieving and hurting, like all of us and more. He needs to be with Grace, especially now.

I narrow my eyes and clear my throat.

Grace shakes her head. “What do you want?”

I need her to look at me, otherwise I have no way to tell her what I want to say. I tap my fingers against my leg and wait.

She sighs but turns. “What is it, Logan?”

“Tell Casey to stay here,” I say.

She coughs, and a little trail of blood trickles down her chin. “No. Absolutely not.”

“He needs you, and you need him. I’ll mind the infirmary today.”

“I need him to go inside and stop hovering around me. I need all of you to go back inside.”

I don’t point out the obvious. If she didn’t want us to care for her, she shouldn’t have come back here. Because I get it. When everything is too scary and too overwhelming, we all want to go home. That’s why we’re together.