The Outliers (The Outliers, #1)(55)

“Who are the Outliers then?” I asked again, because I needed that answer now.

“Outliers are the subjects whose results are outside the normal range. That’s all,” my dad said. “Outliers occur in all kinds of studies.”

“But not every Outlier is created equal,” my mom said. “Are they, Ben?”

And there was this way she said his name: like maybe Outlier was another word for mistress or prostitute.

“And ESP is literally reading someone’s thoughts, Gideon,” my dad said, ignoring her and turning back to Gideon. “In the old tests for ESP, they’d give one subject a picture of a shape to concentrate hard on, to think only of that thing—blue triangle, blue triangle, over and over again. And then they’d ask the other subject to guess what shape that person was thinking about. And no one can do that. That test has nothing to do with emotional intelligence. To an extent, ESP and the perception aspect of emotional intelligence are related: they are both about reading people. The subjects in my study exhibited a range of capacity for perceiving emotions, which did seem heightened when observing live conversation compared to their ability with static images. The Outliers exhibited an exceptional ability unrelated to the actual focus of my study—they could perceive emotions while blindfolded and wearing noise-canceling headphones. It certainly warrants further research.”

“Got to keep on studying and studying and studying before you say anything to anyone? Is that it, Ben?”

Again my dad ignored her. But I watched his face tighten.

“If I was you, all I’d want to study would be the Outliers,” Gideon said, oblivious still to the tension between them. “I’d want to know how they do it, so I could learn to do it, too. And then I could rule the world.” He shoveled more food into his mouth, then grinned.

“You can’t learn to be an Outlier, Gideon. Like with IQ, you can improve your ability to perceive emotion, but only to a very small degree,” my dad said, but quietly now. Sad almost. “And inserting yourself into the scientific research is dangerous and unethical. I fired Dr. Caton for becoming too personally invested. What a scientist wants is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is the truth.”

“Okay, jeez,” Gideon said quietly, jabbing at his pasta with his fork. “I was just joking.”

“The only thing that matters is the truth?” my mom asked sharply. She got up to refill her water glass. Kept talking with her back to us. “Ironic, don’t you think, Ben?”

“Wait, so Wylie’s dad had you bring us here to be safe?” I hear Jasper ask, but he sounds really far away. “Safe from what?”

Focus. I need to pull myself together and focus. This answer is important. I am the only one who will know if it makes any sense.

Quentin looks even more uncomfortable. “There are some people at a company, I guess, a defense contractor?” His voice rises at the end like it’s a question. “Honestly, I don’t know all the details. But I know that they want your dad’s research or his help or something. I guess they are prepared to do a lot of bad stuff to get what they want. Even actually hurt people, with their actual hands.” He looks down at his own hands like he can’t imagine that kind of thing. “Or with weapons, maybe. People from a defense contractor must have weapons, right? Like I said, I’m not really an expert.”

Did my mom know about this, whatever it is? Is this what she and my dad were fighting about? Funny, how you can think that all you want is an answer. Until you realize that to get to the bottom, you’ll need to go way deeper and darker than you ever imagined.

“But he acted like he wanted me to come home,” I say.

“Because he wanted you to, very much. It wasn’t his original plan to have you come here. At least not all of you,” he says, flicking his eyes in Cassie’s direction. “But then here Jasper and you were, already on your way. And it didn’t seem safe to have you out there on your own.”

“Wait a second,” Jasper says. “What do you mean ‘all of you’? And why did you just look at Cassie?”

I’m afraid to hear the answer, but I am glad that I didn’t imagine Quentin looking at Cassie. When I look over at her now, she has the weirdest, blankest expression on her face.

“Listen, this is complicated, and I’m already way out of my depth here. I am nobody, really.” Quentin waves his hands. Seems glad to be able to say that. “Dr. Simons is really the person—”

“Dr. Simons is here?” I ask.

“Yes, he’s up at the main house right now.” And Quentin looks so relieved to be letting me know.

But I’m not relieved. Because if Dr. Simons is here, any hope of this being some kind of misunderstanding and my dad not being involved is officially gone.

“You know him?” Jasper asks, and he sounds suspicious of me now. “This Dr. Simons person.”

I nod. “He’s my dad’s friend.”

“Then take us up there so this doctor guy can explain what the hell is going on,” Jasper says, taking a couple of steps toward the door.

“Definitely,” Quentin says, but then seems embarrassed. “And I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but with the power off—I’m not supposed to take all of you at once. The people from that company I mentioned—well, too many of us together on the open lawn. We’re kind of a bigger target?”