“Hey,” I say to Kelsey, not sure where to begin.

She looks up and raises an eyebrow at me. “You seriously know how to lie low, don’t you?” I try to read whether that’s an insult or a joke. But there’s the brick wall again. At least I know now what it is: she is blocking me.

“I guess.” My episode with the baby is too much to explain at this moment. “Listen, something here is seriously messed up.”

She keeps her eyes on her book. “What was your first clue? The guards or the doctors or the Ebola hospital?”

“I think we should go,” I say. “Like get out right now. All of us.”

“Sure. No problem.” Kelsey’s voice is deadpan. Then she hooks a thumb toward the guards without looking their way. “Running out the doors worked so well for you last time.”

“My dad is a scientist and he’s discovered this thing. The thing both you and I can do, feeling other people’s feelings. Your book? 1984?”

“I have zero idea what you’re talking about,” Kelsey says, and when she finally stares right at me, her wall is pulled high and tight. “I can’t feel anything.”

Okay, she obviously doesn’t want to talk about any of it outright. There are other things I can say.

“Listen, I’ve been in a situation like this before. We shouldn’t wait. It can turn really bad, all of a sudden. We should make some sort of plan. Get the other girls out, too. We need to convince them they’re in danger. Because we are.” I lean in closer to Kelsey. It’s not the most subtle thing with the guards still eyeballing me. But I don’t have a choice. “I think we should create a distraction. Like the fire alarm. And then we should run.”

“Assuming I did have any idea what you were talking about”—Kelsey makes a big point of looking over her shoulder toward the fire alarm, then glances once in the direction of the fire stairs—“your little plan sounds totally doomed to fail. Besides, I can tell you for sure that those girls”—she motions toward the back of the room, toward Becca and Ramona, who are still staring at us and whispering—“aren’t going anywhere with you. They think you’ve lost it.”

“Yeah, I realize that,” I say. “But they’ll listen to you.”

“And why would I tell them anything?” She shakes her head. “You know what your problem is?” This time when she looks at me, she isn’t blocking anymore. She wants me to know that she means this thing she is about to say. Her fingers trace her infinity tattoo, then point at me. “You worry too much about other people. You and I should leave together, on our own. We can send help back for them. That would be better for us. And better for them.”