Everyone steps back, but Mackenzi steps directly into Josie’s path. She plants her fists in her sides. “You brought the plague back to us, you thief. They should’ve left you out there to starve.”

“Get out of the way,” Sofia grumbles. “Josie, keep walking.”

Mackenzi doesn’t budge. She faces off against Josie, while the others pass through to get Saoirse to the infirmary as quickly as possible.

I edge farther back alongside the wall. Riley looks furious. Isaiah clenches and unclenches his hands. Even Casey comes out to look, though he’s tired and worn.

Josie pushes through, her face obscured, but Mackenzi steps in her path again and shoulder checks her. Josie immediately brings her fists up and pushes back. In return, someone else shoves her forward.

Grace shouts, “Stop it!” but it doesn’t change anything. The hallways are narrow, and everyone is exhausted. Riley steps in to help Mackenzi, and everything escalates. Josie ducks her head to avoid the punches. Grace and Sofia push through with a sick Saoirse. Khalil tries to hold Riley back.

I don’t want to be here.

We stuck together and managed to keep each other safe as much as possible over the past few weeks, more so than any of us could’ve hoped for, and I don’t want to lose that.

Sofia whistles so hard, I flinch. “All of you, get back! Now!”

Khalil and Riley straighten, like it’s one of the guards yelling at them. Isaiah holds Mackenzi back.

Josie ducks past everyone, her arms raised up to cover her face.

“We’ll figure out what to do with Josie—with all of this—later,” Grace says.

“Judge her?” Mackenzi demands.

Grace scowls. “Let us pass, and go do something useful.”

“She brought the plague back to us!”

With four of us still sick, it never left.

This isn’t it. We can’t be the ones who judge Josie. We’re all screwups too.

It’s not like Leah and I meant to kill anyone either, but we nearly did. Out of fear and anger. Because we were lost and didn’t know what else to do. Because we were fighting to protect each other, and how different is that for Josie, really? Especially if she was fighting to keep Saoirse safe?

It took me the better part of six months to get our own trip to the courtroom out of my system. Every night it would be the first thing I saw after I closed my eyes. The wood-paneled walls. The eyes of the guards on us. The whispers of the people around us. The feeling of dread and fear like an abyss inside me, and the knowledge that every single one of the people around us—from guards to visitors to journalists—judged us. Not by who we are or were, but by what others said we did. They judged us by the mistakes we made, the worst parts of us, the desperation that drove us, but not a single one of them listened to our full story. I learned that day that if there are many ways to communicate, there are equally as many ways to silence someone.