“Here, take this. As a thank-you for being so nice to me.” She extends a small gold cross on a delicate chain. “My grandmother gave it to me. She said it would protect me from all bad things, even the ones in my own heart.” I eye the chain, which I do not want to put on. Like completely don’t want to, though I can’t exactly explain why.

“You should keep it,” I say. Force a smile. “If your grandmother gave it to you, it must be special.”

“No, really.” Teresa steps closer, already holding out the two ends of the necklace so that she can put it on me. “You need it right now more than I do.” I resist the urge to stop her as she clasps the delicate chain around my throat, then leans back to see how it falls on me. “Perfect.”

“Thanks,” I say. “And I wouldn’t worry about the things you did in the past, or how you’ve felt. I don’t think any of us are sick, not like they’re saying.” Hearing myself say it out loud is a relief. It’s not so insane after all. It’s simple even. The other girls will believe me. They’ll have to. “Anyway, I think sometimes not understanding yourself can make you feel worse.”

“That’s what my therapist says. Or I guess she didn’t say that. She made it so that I would figure it out by myself.”

“Ah, I’m familiar with that technique.” I smile, for real. It is nice having this in common. “When my therapist does that, I fall for it every time. Usually, she’s right.”

Teresa actually smiles a little for the first time. “Is yours pretty, too?” she asks. “Sometimes I think that’s why I fall for it. Because my therapist is like this perfect china doll in her big red chair.”

15

OUT IN THE HALLWAY, I LEAN BACK AGAINST THE WALL. PRESS A HAND TO MY chest to try to slow down my pounding heart. Teresa is one of Dr. Shepard’s patients? Does that mean everyone else is? Is that what actually connects us? But it doesn’t explain so much else: like how we also just happened to all be Outliers. Whatever the truth, I don’t believe for a second that Dr. Shepard intended me—or us—to be locked away. No possible way.

Still, I would feel much better if I had proof.

WHEN I COME back into the common room, I feel all eyes on me again—the guards, all of the girls except for Teresa. Luckily, I don’t see Dr. Haddox anywhere. One less person to be self-conscious in front of. And everyone else has shifted around some, is preoccupied now. Kelsey is stretched out on the couch, Fahrenheit 451 in her hands. I try to ignore the Wolf’s eyes digging into me as I cross the room to her.