I look down at my watch. “It’s not even ten p.m.,” I say, like that’s the important point—that we’ll have to wait two hours. “I need to find your girlfriend,” I say carefully, bracing myself for sudden blowback.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, plucking a chipped glass out of the clean rack and tossing it into the garbage. Except it’s not really a question. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“I have something for her.” I dig Kelsey’s copy of 1984 from my bag and hold it out to him.

Finally, he turns. As soon as he sees what it is, his eyes shoot back up to mine. And, wow, is he pissed. He steps forward and snatches the book from me so aggressively that I feel Jasper flinch. Leo flips through the pages, then glares at me some more. Yep. Definitely furious.

“Where the hell did you get this?” he asks. Or accuses.

“Kelsey gave it to me,” I say, getting ready to bolt out the door. Whatever I felt was going to happen—it wasn’t this. I have no idea what this is. I feel more lost than ever. “That’s why I’m here. She and I—”

“Wait, who?” he asks. Confusion and disbelief have overtaken his anger.

“Kelsey,” I say. “This is going to, well, sound crazy, but she and I were in this hospital together.” My voice rises at the end like it’s a question as my stomach twists. There’s no way to explain a crazy situation that doesn’t sound crazy. “And anyway, Kelsey gave me the book because, I think, we shared this connection.” Vague, I am going to stay vague—not mention the Outliers, not yet. “And then she helped me get out and—”

“Wait, when?”

“When what?” Now he’s more worried than angry—freaked out, actually.

“When were you in the hospital together?” He steps toward me with the book raised. Jasper moves forward, too.

“Um, this morning,” I say. “Kelsey helped me get out, and I’m hoping that maybe Gabrielle has heard from her. Because Kelsey was supposed to leave with me, but I haven’t seen her. I’m worried that she’s still in the hospital. In which case, I think we should go back to get her.”

“Well, that would be hard,” Leo says. His voice is cold and flat. Dread—it’s the only thing he feels. Overwhelming dread.

“Well, I know, it will be hard, but—”

“Kelsey is dead,” he says with utter and undeniable truthfulness. “She’s been dead for months. I don’t know who you were with, but it wasn’t Kelsey.”

21