The Outliers (The Outliers, #1)(69)

Because I’ve decided that these people can do whatever they want; Cassie and I are getting the hell out of there.

I watch Adam and Fiona carry shovels down the driveway. Gladys and Beatrice, Robert and Hillary are walking to and from the woods in the opposite direction behind the cabins, collecting sticks and piling them in the center of the lawn. They are all so calm and purposeful, so ready and accepting. Trusting. They certainly do not seem panicked or afraid, not like they are looking for a way out. It’s as though they knew the risks when they came up here to help my dad and are willing to pay the cost, no matter how steep it ends up being.

“What’s with all the sticks?” I ask, motioning to Gladys and Beatrice when Dr. Simons comes to stand next to me on the porch.

“Nothing too sophisticated, I’m afraid. Some controlled fires that will give us a chance to leave out the back,” he says. “If anyone does end up locating us, which—to be clear—is still not a foregone conclusion.”

Dr. Simons’s face changes as he peers in the direction of the cabin Jasper and I started out in. When I turn, Cassie is headed toward us, across the open grass. She’s changed her clothes, jeans now, a sweater, and a longish wool coat. None of it exactly goes together, but on Cassie looks casually chic. All except the weird, bright-orange knit hat on her head. It’s like something a hunter might wear, and it looks odd and out of place. There’s no way it belongs to her.

“I thought Stuart told you she went to lie down,” I say. And it was Dr. Simons who convinced me not to go after her once everyone had headed off to their jobs.

“Yes, well, that is what he told me.” Dr. Simons looks confused himself.

As Cassie gets closer, I can see she has an odd look on her face. Then I notice the cigarette in her hand. For once, I’m not judging. If somebody told me I was an Outlier, I might start smoking, too. But the way Cassie drops it is so strange. It’s like she wasn’t even aware she was holding it in the first place. And past her, I see Stuart. He’s out in front of the cabin we started out in. He takes a long drag of his own cigarette and exhales over his head. He’s far away, but I feel like it was for our benefit, like he wants us to know they were talking.

Cassie being upset and confused is understandable. Upset enough that she’s willing to chat Stuart up just to get a cigarette? That is not good at all.

“Are you okay?” I ask when she finally reaches us. And I wish it didn’t sound so much like I was accusing her of something. “Where were you?”

“Taking a walk,” Cassie says, crossing her arms and looking away.

She seems much worse. Before, she was upset about being an Outlier and everything with Jasper, but now she seems jittery and angry, too.

“You must be careful, Cassie,” Dr. Simons says, and I’m glad it’s him instead of me. “It’s not safe for you to be off on your own.”

Cassie glares up at him, and for a second I think she’s going to tell him off. I kind of want her to. But she just bites her lip and looks away.

“Wylie, why don’t you help Cassie carry those sticks down the driveway. You should see Fiona down there in the woods. We’re using the sticks as the base for the firewall. Obviously, there are some sticks down there, but not enough. So we need to get more from the woods behind the cabins,” Dr. Simons says. “It would be helpful if you could both lend a hand. Besides, I think it would be good for everyone to keep busy.”

He nods at me: take care of her, the look says. Then he pats me on the shoulder in a grandfatherly way before heading back inside. I will, I think. I’m going to take care of her by getting her the hell away from you.

“Awesome,” Cassie mutters, marching off toward the pile of sticks in the center of the lawn without even looking at me.

“This is going to be okay, you know,” I say, when I’ve made my way over to join her. Do I sound like I believe that? I hope so. I glance back to make sure that Dr. Simons has gone, then lean in and lower my voice. “But we need to go, Cassie, now. Take off through the woods. It’s not safe to wait.”

I consider adding: It’s not safe for you. But I don’t want to scare her that much.

“Grab some sticks, Wylie,” Cassie says. “You heard him. We should all stay busy.”

“And did you hear me?” I ask. She’s upset. I get that. But she is going to have to pull it together. “We need to sneak out of here. If we’re careful, I’m pretty sure we can get away without them stopping us.”

Cassie pauses and turns to look right at me. In her eyes, there’s a crazy toxic mix of fear and anger and sadness.

“No,” she says through gritted teeth. And then she turns with her sticks and marches away.

“Cassie!” I shout after her, feeling angry, but really more hurt.

I stand there, watching her go. Does she not trust me enough to come?

Finally, I step forward and collect my own armful of sticks. When I finally have them gripped against me, I’m reminded of the way I held so tight to all those pointless camping supplies in the garage back at my house. Which makes me think again of Jasper. If only Cassie had never said anything to him. Because he’d be able to convince her to go. I know he would.

As I start down the driveway with my armful of sticks, I feel someone watching me. I turn, bracing to see Dr. Simons, or worse yet, Stuart’s prying eyes on me. But it’s Quentin at the far end of the long porch, some kind of tool gripped at his side. My stomach tightens as our eyes meet and he raises a hand in a wave—and then suddenly there’s a loud voice from the other side of the yard.