“There was a girl in the hospital who said she was Kelsey, and I had no reason not to believe her,” I say. “She gave me the book. She said she was going to sneak out with me, too, but then I lost her. She was amazing at blocking, too, just like it describes in the book. I honestly thought she was Kelsey, I swear.” And I know I should probably leave it at that, but I can’t. “I mean, is there any chance that—”

“Kelsey is dead!” Riel shouts, and I can read her easily now—suspicion and rage and pain. So much that it takes my breath away. “And I know she’s dead because I was the lucky one who found her.” She points a finger hard at her own chest. “I saw her skin tinged blue. A needle sticking out of her arm.”

The horror that passes through Riel when she says the word “blue” makes me feel hot and nauseous. And in that moment, I am reminded of how only weeks ago I might have mistaken that feeling for my own. Now, I can see the difference. But still, it is awful all the same.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I am. For making her even think about that.

“You should be,” Riel says, and when I try to read her again, that weirdly flat shield of contempt is back. It must be her way of blocking.

“Yeah, it’s different from in the book,” she says. Because she knows that I’m reading her. Has a decent idea even of what I’m thinking, maybe. She is good at this Outlier thing, too. Maybe as good as Kelsey was. Better than me, I am pretty sure. “If you make yourself a wall, it’s pretty obvious you’re blocking, right? At least to another Outlier. Using another feeling as cover? Much smarter. But that’s not in our book because I only figured it out recently, after your dad killed Kelsey.”

“What? My dad did not kill Kelsey. He didn’t kill anybody.”

“Well, he’s the reason she’s dead, and that’s close enough for me.”

“What are you talking about?”