“Lia?” Katie says, but it feels like she’s in another world.

“She didn’t want me to see her.” Ideas begin to shape themselves. This has nothing to do with the package last night. “She doesn’t want me to identify her.”

Adam tugs me again. “Who cares. Let’s go.”

“Who didn’t want you to see her?” Unease escalates in Katie’s voice. “What’s going on?”

Ryan claimed he doesn’t want to be in the Swarm. If Ryan’s forced to participate like he says . . . I think of the way Cropped Hair Girl looked during the attack—like she didn’t want to be there, like she didn’t belong.

Adam tugs harder. “She saw someone from the Swarm, and we’re getting out of here.”

Katie gasps. “Here?”

I pull away from Adam’s grip.

“Katie,” I begin.

Somewhere down the hall a locker door slams shut. Someone screams—a high-pitched cackle. I jump and spin toward the noise. Two students are doubled over, laughing.

I turn back to Katie. “Do you know anyone with black hair, choppy, just above her chin? She was wearing an army jacket.”

Katie fumbles. She looks back and forth between Adam and me, unsure of what to do. “There’s”—I can almost hear her mind spinning—“Stella Mangrove? Or . . .” She hugs her sketchbook as if it might shield her. “Sadie Lasky? But they’re not in the Swarm,” she adds with uncertainty. “Are you sure you saw her right? Don’t the Swarm disguise themselves?”

Adam rubs the back of his neck. “I can’t believe we’re having this discussion. Even I can think of at least three girls that fit that description of the hundred or so people I know by name. But that leaves eleven hundred other students I can’t vouch for who may or may not be here to kill you.”

I grab my backpack from Adam. “I need you to find her for me.” A game plan begins to take shape. “Take a picture of anyone who might look like that. I need to know who she is.”

“Maybe Adam’s right . . .”

I halt. Katie’s light-tan skin blanches. She looks petrified. Even if Cropped Hair Girl is no threat, I can’t involve Katie and risk her becoming a target. My eyes flicker to Adam, hoping he’ll volunteer, but his face is set in pissed-off mode.

I slip my backpack on one shoulder at a time. “Forget about it.” I shut my locker and start limping away, surprised my foot hurts so much. “See you guys later.”

“I never said I wouldn’t do it.”