The Outliers (The Outliers, #1)(33)

I’m still watching them when a hostess appears in front of us. She has a dirty-blond ponytail and is cute despite her too-big eyes and crooked teeth. She’s wearing a red T-shirt with Trinity printed in big black letters, a flag on either side.

“Four of you?” she asks, smiling as she grabs up some menus.

“Actually, we’re just getting something to go,” Doug says.

Did he say that kind of too forcefully? Like he knows something is up? Who knows? It could easily be my imagination.

My heart is beating so hard, I feel like it is rocking my body as I stand there. I pray that Doug and Lexi can’t see.

“Where’s your bathroom?” I ask the hostess, hoping that Jasper will follow my lead. That he and I can talk privately back by the bathrooms, match notes, come up with a plan. Who knows, maybe he’ll even think it’s safe for us to be honest with Lexi and Doug, to tell them we know there’s no baby. Maybe Jasper will tell me that I’m being paranoid. And maybe I will even get myself to believe him.

“Sure, hon, bathrooms are right back there.” The hostess points toward a door at the far end of the counter. “Ladies’ is at the end of the hall.”

“Okay, thanks.” I avoid meeting Doug or Lexi’s eyes as I step toward the back. “I’ll just be a second.”

Lexi smiles. “Take your time, sweetheart.”

Did her voice also sound weird? A tremor to it like she’s scared, but trying to hide it? For sure, my racing heart has made the floor spongy underfoot as I make my way to the bathroom. By the time I finally reach the door, my body feels numb. I can see my hand on the knob, the door coming back toward me as I pull it, but I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything.

On the other side of the door is a short, wood-paneled hall, the men’s room to the left and a ladies’ straight ahead. It’s colder out here, like the walls are paper-thin. When I put a hand on one to steady myself, I hope it doesn’t punch right through. By the time I reach the women’s bathroom, Jasper’s still not there like I hoped he would be. But I can’t just stand there like I’m waiting for him, on the off chance Lexi or Doug comes in behind me instead. It’ll look like I’m up to something. I have no choice but to go on inside the women’s room. Jasper will knock when he comes, right? He’ll know that’s where I went. He’s not an idiot.

The bathroom itself is filthy—hair all over the sink, stains on the floor, no toilet paper. Like the otherwise squeaky-clean diner saved up all its scum for this one room. It’s ten degrees colder yet again in here, and the laminate floor is peeling, the corners lifted and curled. I lock the door behind me, then press an ear to it. I can hear the dining room: voices, the clinking of silverware. I’ll definitely be able to hear Jasper when he comes through. If he comes through. I wait for a minute longer. Still, nothing. But he has to be coming. He has to be.

And when he gets here, we’ll need a way out the back. There’s a window high above the toilet, and when I climb up, it opens easily. Big enough for Jasper and me to make it through. But when I poke my head out, it’s a long drop to the ground. Hard to see exactly how far in the dark. Probably not so far that we’d be seriously hurt, but even hurt a little would slow us down too much.

I’m still leaning out the window when I finally hear the door to the bathroom hall open, at least I think. Jasper, finally, thank God. I jump off the toilet and head for the door. And really, I am still hoping he won’t even think we need to run.

I’ve already turned the lock. My hand’s on the knob when there’s a second sound. The hallway door opening and closing again. A second set of footsteps, these ones fast. Then Jasper’s voice.

“Dou—”

A hard thud against the wall. Doug. That was Jasper trying to say Doug. Wasn’t it? I press my hands against the door, heart racing. Do I open it? There are more sounds now, louder, a scrambling against the floor, then someone kicking the wall. Struggling. Jasper struggling with Doug?

I feel around my pockets for my phone, praying that I’ll somehow have a signal. That I can call the police, because now I will. I will have no choice. But I don’t have a signal, of course. As I shove my phone back into my other pocket, it gets caught on something. My mom’s pocketknife. When I dig it out, it’s cool and heavy in my palm, stiff as I tug out the short blade. My heart pounds in my ears as I stare down at the small flash of metal.

“St-op.” Definitely Jasper this time. Like he’s gasping.

I have to be ready to do something when I open the door. Just in case. That stupid little knife is my only option. The way my mom once taught me to split a log with an ax. I’ll have to swing with my full weight behind it.

When I yank open the door, my chest seizes. Because there it is. There they are. What I expected and yet still cannot believe. Doug has Jasper up against the wall. His arm on Jasper’s neck. Jasper’s face red. His eyes wide as he kicks against the wall. Jasper looks so terrified.

Doug’s other hand is pressed flat against the wall for leverage. A big enough target. A place to aim. He’s choking Jasper. He needs to let go. Now. I need to make him let go.

I lunge forward and swing. When the knife finally comes down, I’m jolted by pain—my pain—as the knife and my fist closed around it come down against Doug’s knuckles. I would have sworn that I’d hit the wall, if it wasn’t for the blood all over me.