“That’s right, Patrick,” Chatterjee agreed. Then he looked at us all. “Just like your weakness is yours. As Alex said, you’re willing to take risks. Now you’ll have plenty of opportunity to do so.”

I thought of Eddie Lu out there wandering around the Dumpsters in his beanie and apron. “Wait,” I said. “But this means … as we get older…”

Chatterjee’s eyes moistened behind his round glasses. “If the spores are still in the air, yes.”

“What?” JoJo asked. “What’s that mean?”

“It means we’ll turn into them,” Rocky said angrily, waving a hand at the wall and the Hosts beyond.

It took a moment for the realization to work its way across JoJo’s face, and then her forehead furrowed and she started crying. I wanted to comfort her, but the shock was still ringing through me, too. Of all of us, she’d be safe the longest. I’d get there well before her, the white matter spreading through my brain until one day it hit a tipping point. One more cell would grow, bridging some microscopic connection—just enough to allow the parasite to reach its nasty little claws around my frontal cortex, encasing it and taking me over.

But first I’d lose Patrick.

And Alex.

It was like life had always been, I guess, but accelerated. Aging brings us closer to death—any idiot knows that. I’d just always thought I’d have a longer runway. I was fifteen, sure, but at times I still felt like I was just a kid. Even if the future laid out before me wasn’t glamorous or grand, it still always seemed to stretch out, decade after decade, farther than I could see. I didn’t want the end of the road to be visible. Not yet.

I pictured having to watch that death shudder hit Patrick. And alter him. My big brother, my rock, the most solid thing I’d ever known.

And that was only if we got lucky. If the Hosts didn’t take him first. Or me.

JoJo’s cries grew louder.

Patrick said, “We gotta be quiet. We don’t know who’s in here.”

JoJo crammed Bunny’s ear into her mouth and chewed on the ragged tip.

“Don’t worry,” Chatterjee said, ambling ahead of us past the glass trophy cabinet toward the gymnasium. “We’ve checked the entire school. It’s secure.”

“Who’s we?” Patrick said.

Dr. Chatterjee struck the double doors with the heels of his hands, and Alex gave a little gulp of shock. We froze at the threshold. Dozens of sets of eyes stared back at us.

Huddled in groups across the bleachers and the basketball court were about half the kids of Creek’s Cause.

The others who had made it.

Entry 13

ENTRY 13