"With who," she repeats, dully, saddened to think of Lincoln. For the first time ever, she thinks she might be jealous of the people who get to stay here. The Island may have sunshine, maybe even turtles, but there are people here.

"I'm glad I met you," she says, honestly. "You're pretty smart. And you talk about things. None of the others talked about things." She shook her head, sipping her water. "Do you have friends you're happy to be with?"