“You feel worse knowing that, don’t you?” Kelsey asks me. I look at her, but don’t answer—she’s right. I can’t say why that Ebola detail is so unsettling, something too real about it maybe. I did hear they built a hospital to be some kind of quarantine center a couple of years ago when Ebola was all over the news. I do remember being shocked about how they could just lock people up that way. And now here we are. Locked inside, just like they were. “Well, that’s why I don’t want to play detective. Because most of the time, the truth is even worse than whatever you’re afraid of.”

10

SOMEONE RIGHT BEHIND ME CLAPS LOUDLY THEN. IT’S BECCA, WHO’S MOVED TO the center of the room. She claps again, two more times, like she is calling a classroom of little kids to attention.

“Okay, two truths and a lie,” Becca says. “Let’s go. Everybody’s in, period. I need a goddamn distraction.”

There’s some unhappy grumbling. But mostly people seem glad for something to do. And my initial reaction is no. How can I play a game when I don’t know yet whether Jasper’s okay. But, at the moment, what I really need, too, is a distraction. It feels like my sanity might depend on it.

“What’s two truths and a lie?” Teresa asks, like she’s afraid playing it might involve getting in trouble.

No one answers her. Instead, everyone crowds around Becca, including me. Even Kelsey is standing now, though she doesn’t look like she’s making any promises about playing along.

“Jesus, back up and sit down,” Becca says as we push closer like starving mouths to feed. “Give me a little room to breathe. I usually play this game with way more drugs and way fewer people.”

Eventually, everyone sits in a large circle on the floor, legs crossed, shoulders hunched like much younger girls. Becca is the only one still standing in the center now, all of us waiting for her. And expecting much more than a simple game. Like we want her to lead us to real answers. Becca isn’t ready for all that pressure, though. Soon her face gets stiff and loses color.

Looking at Becca, I wonder how things might be different if she knew that she was an Outlier—assuming that I’m right and she is. If she knew that part of what she is feeling in that moment could be what we are all feeling. It’s been different for me since I found that out. Each one of us might still be broken in our own way, maybe even in ways that won’t be easy to fix. But understanding this one part of ourselves could make us see our whole as something more complicated than just wrong.