“I am Outcast.""The kids behind me laugh so loud I know they’re laughing about me. I can’t help myself. I turn around. It’s Rachel, surrounded by a bunch of kids wearing clothes that most definitely did not come from the EastSide Mall. Rachel Bruin, my ex-best friend. She stares at something above my left ear. Words climb up my throat. This was the girl who suffered through Brownies with me, who taught me how to swim, who understood about my parents, who didn’t make fun of my bedroom. If there is anyone in the entire galaxy I am dying to tell what really happened, it’s Rachel. My throat burns.""Her eyes meet mine for a second. “I hate you,” she mouths silently.”

“I wake with tears in my eyes. I wake to Jeanine’s scream of frustration.“What is it?” She grabs Peter’s gun out of his hand and stalks across the room, pressing the barrel to my forehead. My body stiffens, goes cold. She won’t shoot me. I am a problem she can’t solve. She won’t shoot me.“What is it that clues you in? Tell me. Tell me or I will kill you.”I slowly push myself up from the chair, coming to my feet, pushing my skin harder into the cold barrel.“You think I’m going to tell you?” I say. “You think I believe that you would kill me without figuring out the answer to this question?”“You stupid girl,” she says. “You think this is about you, and your abnormal brain? This is not about you. It is not about me. It is about keeping this city safe from the people who intend to plunge it into hell!”I summon the last of my strength and launch myself at her, clawing at whatever skin my fingernails find, digging in as hard as I can. She screams at the top of her lungs, a sound that turns my blood into fire. I punch her hard in the face.A pair of arms wrap around me, pulling me off her, and a fist meets my side. I groan, and lunge toward her, held at bay by Peter.“Pain can’t make me tell you. Truth serum can’t make me tell you. Simulations can’t make me tell you. I’m immune to all three.”Her nose is bleeding, and I see lines of fingernail scrapes in her cheeks, on the side of her throat, turning red with blossoming blood. She glares at me, pinching her nose closed, her hair disheveled, her free hand trembling.“You have failed. You can’t control me!” I scream, so loud it hurts my throat. I stop struggling and sag against Peter’s chest. “You will never be able to control me.”I laugh, mirthless, a mad laugh. I savor the scowl on her face, the hate in her eyes. She was like a machine; she was cold and emotionless, bound by logic alone. And I broke her.I broke her.”

“I wear this because it suits me, it’s a part of who I am, of what I am. My soul is black, my life is black—as black as the nothingness that surrounds me.”

“Ceri,” I said softly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her vivid green eyes met mine. “I thought you’d be angry,” she said with desperate worry. “Rachel, it’s the only way I can get rid of it.” My lips parted. “You don’t want it?”Ceri’s expression blanked. She stared wonderingly at me for a moment. “What are we talking about?” she asked cautiously. “Your baby!” Her mouth dropped open and she flushed scarlet.”

“Marriage should be about fun,” she says gently. “It’s about friendship, and laughter, and trust, and fun. If it’s not fun, if you take it all too seriously, what’s the point? You know I’ve been with Andy for fifteen years, and the reason it still works is because he’s my best friend and he still makes me laugh. Admittedly, not all the time, and often we get completely bogged down in work, and the kids, and life, but he’s still the person I most want to phone when anything happens in life, and he’s still the person who makes me laugh the most.”

“So why haven’t you called?” I ask her now.She looks uncomfortable. “I told you,” she says, twirling the end of her braid around her finger. “School stuff.”“Bullshit.” She looks at me and opens her mouth, probably to lie again. But then she changes her mind. “I didn’t know what to say.” Her voice catches, so I know she’s telling the truth. “And besides, you didn’t call me, either.” “Because you didn’t call me!” Doesn’t she know that the person who got kicked out of school (me) doesn’t have to call the one who didn’t(her)? She should have called to check up on me, to see how I was doing. She should have come over with lemonades and ice cream, keeping me company, helping me nurse my broken heart. That’s what best friends do. It’s so common it’s cliché.”