After Ramona hauls Molly off to the clinic, Marcos happily assumes the task of keeping us engaged in Husband and Wife roleplay. His “wife,” Lacrishia, pouts in my direction as if I were the One Who Got Away. I can’t even focus on this conversion crap; in the span of an hour, my hope of leaving Nightlight has shattered, my paranoia over the Reverend has tripled, and my feisty friend Molly has been terrorized into a silent, bow-headed child. What happens if Molly decides that now, on the way to the clinic, is the right time to follow through on her plan of running for the boat? Miss Manners will tase her—or worse. A fantasy slithers through my mind of Molly lying in Ricky’s hospital bed, her back broken…

And I just stood here playing house.

“I’ll be back,” I say, cutting off Marcos mid-instruction.

“Oh, there’s a bathroom behind the fake restaurant,” he says, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. “But the bathroom is real.”

“I’m actually gonna see if Molly’s okay.”

The three remaining campers freeze before I can navigate another step toward the door. “Um, you can’t…” Marcos snaps his fingers at his side. “You gotta stay put. Sorry. Molly’s fine.”

“She didn’t look fine.”

“It’s just a cut. We all got—”

“You all got what?” From his toes to his shoulders, Marcos clenches like a fist. Darcy and Lacrishia exchange glances. “You’ve all been cut up by Miss Manners before, that what you were gonna say?”

“It’s not as bad as you think—”

“Look, I’m gonna be careful. I just need to make sure Molly’s okay.”

“You’re already learning Nightlight’s gender roles,” Darcy interrupts snidely from the sofa. “The woman can’t take care of herself, so the man’s gotta follow and make sure.”

Hairs ignite on my neck. Darcy hasn’t done a thing except put me on edge, but she wants me to chill on a couch while Molly gets hurt? I don’t have to explain myself, even if I had time. Molly might run, and at least one camper got his ass beaten so badly he never walked again. If that makes me a Problematic Dude, so be it. “Whatever,” I snap, smacking open the front door. “You want to snitch me out, call the Reverend.”