Death hunts children on this island. Whether it was the Reverend or someone else, all clues point to there being someone among us who permanently injured Ricky…and may have killed his husband, Rigo. The faces of the Beginners peek out at me. Owen, the little boy pressed against Lacrishia’s chest, waits to watch me write my name to save myself from a fate he can’t escape.

Write your name, Major, and you’ll be with Ario tonight.

Will I? I’m agreeing to father this baby, assuming Vicky will let me, assuming Vicky is even aware of this deranged plan, and for how long? At least until I’m out of high school. When will I ever have the time to sneak off to Ario, when I barely had any before?

An hour ago you were begging to sign this!

An hour ago, Drew was alive. Things change.

“Can I sign it later?” I ask, my eyes flitting from side to side so I don’t have to catch the utterly betrayed glares of my friends. “I’m a little upset from—”

“This isn’t a negotiation,” the Reverend growls, “and your window is closing. You either are this baby’s father, or you’re not, and you lied to avoid your obligations to this program.”

My friends are about to witness me lie to save myself from Ricky’s killer, from Nightlight, and from the chaos that’s infested this courtyard since we watched Drew fall. Jack, that brave boy who’s collected evidence for months, will watch me peace-out after half a day. Molly, my boat buddy, will be ditched to fend for herself. Marcos, the boy with the soft hands and warm smile, will never smile at me again.

And they’ll all know the truth: surrender to the Reverend—debase yourself—sink to your lowest point—and that’s how you’ll survive.

The faces in my mind’s eye are worst of all. Faces of people I’m betraying, or will betray. Vicky. Avery. Ario. Their judgment looms in my mind like stone monoliths. Just to make my mother happy…just to make the pain stop…I’ll make this one compromise.

Drew Schreiber lies dead, his golden mane ground into the filth where he dropped. His utter lifelessness warns me—it won’t just be this one compromise. I can lie and sneak my way out of parenting Avery, sure. But there will be other compromises, other lies I’ll be asked to tell. One after another, I’ll make them, thinking I’m in control of the situation. But each compromise will turn me more into Briggs, and before I realize it, I’ll be back where I started: the island. Crying over a boy I thought I was saving but was only manipulating.

Like Marcos.