The Scattering
The nail-bitingly tense sequel to THE OUTLIERS by New York Times bestselling author Kimberly McCreight.“Wylie, trust your instincts.” The line goes dead…Wylie may have escaped the isolated camp in the woods, but she is far from safe. The only way to protect herself is to understand her strange abilities as an Outlier, fast. But allowing herself to read other peoples’ emotions isn't just difficult, it's dangerous.And Wylie isn’t the only one at risk. Ever since they returned home, Jasper has been wracked with guilt. He can’t let go of the blame he so desperately feels, especially when someone has been taunting him with reminders of it. Wylie and Jasper would do anything for each other, but is their bond is strong enough to overcome demons from the past?Amid this uncertainty and fear, Wylie is confronted with a choice. She was willing to do whatever it took to help Cassie, but is she prepared to go to the same extremes for complete strangers… even if they are just like her?New York Times bestselling author Kimberly McCreight raises the stakes in the second book of this heart-pounding series about secrets, betrayal and a group of people are blessed – or cursed – with an incredible power.
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Childrenâs Books in 2017
HarperCollins Childrenâs Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
The HarperCollins website address is: www.harpercollins.co.uk
Text © Kimberly McCreight 2017
Cover illustration ©
Kimberly McCreight asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
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Source ISBN: 9780008115081
Ebook Edition © 2017 ISBN: 9780008115098
Version: 2017-06-24
For every girl whoâs been told sheâs too sensitive.
For every woman whoâs taught herself not to be.
Contents
This is a work of fiction. The things that you read here did not happen. At least, not yet.
I STAND IN THE DARK, barefoot and cold on the edge of the sharp rocks, staring out over the long stretch of black water in front of me. And I wonder if I really can make it all the way to that small light on the dock in the distance. It seems so impossibly far away, the water so frighteningly still like itâs just waiting for someone fool enough to try.
I am not a very strong swimmer, or not nearly strong enough. Iâve never made it that kind of distance. Not fully clothed, not in the darkness. Across unfamiliar water, with all the tricks a pinprick of light on the horizon can play, who knows what could go wrong? But we have no choice. They are coming for us. For me, actually. They are already here. Voices in the distance, creeping closer. Itâs only a matter of time.
But the real crazy thing? These bad facts notwithstanding, deep down I do believe I can swim the mile or more to that dock. I know it, actually. Maybe thatâs all that matters. Because if I have learned anything in these past weeks, itâs that strength is just another word for faith. And true courage lies in holding out hope.
And right now, itâs just me and my doubt at the waterâs edge anyway. I know not to let that get the better of me. Instead, I need to trust my instincts.
So I take one last deep breath before I step forward and set my gaze on that faraway horizon. And then I start to swim.
I AM IN OUR FOYER staring at the text from Jasper. At that one word: Run.
For a minute. For an hour. Forever.
My heart drums against my rib cage as my eyes stay down. The six agents say things. Their namesâAgent Klute and Agent Johansen and Agent something else and something else. Run. Donât run. Run. Donât run. They say other things: Department of Homeland Security. Ruling out a domestic security threat. The rest is just buzzing.
Run. Donât run. Run. Donât run.
Run.
I spin toward the steps, phone gripped like a hand grenade. Run first. Questions later. Quentin taught me that.
âWylie?â my dad shouts after me. Stunned. Confused. Worried. âWylie, what are youââ
Voices, jostling behind me as I pound toward the steps. Donât look back. Donât slow down. On and up the stairs. On and up. Thatâs what I need to do.
But why up? Shouldnât I run out the back door and not deeper into the house? The upstairs bathroom and the slanted, notched part of the roof. That must be it. A way out. I grab the banister when my feet slip.
âMs. Lang!â one of them calls. So close I can almost feel his breath.
âStop! Leave her alone!â My dad sounds so angry I barely recognize his voice. Many more voices shout back at him. Gasping, thudding, a struggle. âYou canât just barge into our house!â
âDr. Lang, calm down!â
âHey! Stop!â The voice behind me again. Even closer now. I lunge forward as I hit the upstairs hall.
The bathroom. Thatâs where I need to go. Focus. Focus. Faster. Faster. Before he grabs me. The door isnât far. And Iâll only need a second to open the window and crawl out. After a quick slide to the ground, Iâll do then what I have done before. Run. Like. Hell.
Down the hallway I pound, loud feet still just a stride behind me. âWylie!â the man calls out, but stiff like he doesnât want to admit that I even have a name.
