I want this not to matter, this inconsistency. But it was something that I had my dad follow up on specifically. I kept holding out hope that Lexi or Miriam had made it out alive. I wanted hard numbers. Real facts. But then sometimes the police count the “shooter” among the dead and sometimes not—there could be a totally logical reason for this inconsistency.

“Whatever.” Riel shakes her head when I stay silent. And for a split second she feels sorry for me. A little guilty, too, about what happened to Cassie. But it’s just a flash and then it’s gone.

“Kendall told me to come here,” I say. “I don’t know if you met him at the camp, but he—”

“Kendall?” She steps forward and points a furious finger right in my face. “Did that lunatic follow you here? Because if he did, I swear to God, I will have your ass kicked.” She nods her head in the direction of the blond guy, who seems to accept this as his role: head ass-kicker.

I feel Jasper shift behind me like a guard dog ready to lunge. Not again, I think, not yet.

“Kendall wouldn’t have to follow us,” I say carefully. “He’s the one who gave me this address.”

“Goddamn it!” Riel shouts, putting her hands to her head. “Well, we can’t stay here then.” She’s not talking to me anymore.

“Seriously?” the blond guy asks. Disappointed, not concerned. He looks around. “I like this place.”

Riel takes a deep, exasperated breath, then turns back to me.

“You come clean right now, and I mean right this goddamn second, about why and how you’re helping Kendall, and maybe I won’t drain your dad’s bank account.”

“I’m not helping Kendall.” I raise my hands like she has a knife pointed in my face. And she might as well have. I can only imagine how Level99 could wreak havoc on someone’s life. “Kendall found me in the hospital and told me to come here.” I hand her his note. Her eyes narrow as she looks at it. “They have this group of girls, all of them are Outliers like me, at least I’m pretty sure. I don’t know how they found them or what they’re planning to do to them but—”

“Wait.” She holds up a hand and cocks her head to the side skeptically. “They who?”

“The NIH, I think—that’s who they said was in charge. But it didn’t feel like the truth, to be honest. They said we all had some kind of bioterrorist strep. There’s some immunologist guy who’s trying to say that it explains the Outliers.”

She crosses her arms. “And you believe that?”