I shake my head. “Why me? I have no idea what to say.”

He’s honest enough not to deny that. “You did last night, and you made people listen to you. We need someone to keep the calm, and you can do it.”

“I…” I’m not calm. I don’t know how. I don’t know where to start.

“Please, Grace. Trust me.”

I do. I always do.

But there’s a difference between pulling a ridiculous stunt because your best friend asks you—like that time in middle school when Amy, my best friend at the time, and I cut each other’s hair and dyed parts of it black with her aunt’s leftover hair color—and navigating the end of the world because you didn’t know when to keep your mouth shut.

Once Casey and the twins reach the infirmary, I don’t stick around to see if they need my help; I turn around and make my way to the cafeteria. It feels wrong, to be able to wander.

But the cafeteria looks like it did yesterday and the day before and every day since I came here. Bright fluorescent lights. Tables with attached seats in drab gray. Late-autumn skies filtering in through the windows. Not everyone is here, but people have drifted in to eat. They stuck to their assigned places, mostly. We have food on the tables.

Raided rations of cereals, like we’ve never had cereal before. Fruit enough for all of us. The smell of scrambled—and slightly burned—eggs wafts in from the kitchen.

The biggest difference between today and any other day is that people are talking to each other. They’re worried and anxious but talking. Some of them are laughing. Word hasn’t spread here yet.

I don’t want to be the one to tell them.

I clear my throat. No one looks at me.

I clap my hands. At the first table, two people turn around, glance at me, and go back to their food.

“Can I get everyone’s—”

The door on the other side of the room slams open, and Hunter stalks in. He’s dressed in his work uniform, and he has a bag slung over his shoulder. The rest of his crew lingers near the door. “We’re going,” he announces. “One last chance for those who want to come!”

He spots me, and a cruel smile spreads across his face. “Or you can remain here, with her, and your very own plague victims.”

He does what I couldn’t. The entire room is silent. Someone places their cup on their tray, and several people at once hush them.

“What do you mean?”

“Did someone get sick?”

One of the other boys stands up, but the girl next to him drags him down. She looks to me. “Grace? Is it true?”

“Everyone, listen up.” I grab a tray and slam it against the metal counter. “Leah—one of the twins—fell ill. We don’t know if what she has is the new disease. Her sister and Casey helped her to the infirmary. We’re trying to figure out what we can do.”