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Albeit one who could use some help with personal hygiene.

“You look great.” He pulls his cap down over his ears. It’s goddamn bright, but it’s also goddamn cold. “Come on, let’s walk,” he says. Maybe walking he’ll be less nervous.

The hospital grounds are beautiful. On the other side of the tall, wrought-iron fence, there’s the crowded, loud, gritty world ofNew York City. But on the Belman side, it’s like they’re taking a stroll in a private park. Compared to state-run psychiatric institutions, Belman is a country club. A palatial estate.

“So,” Hannah says, tossing one of the fat squirrels a bit of a croissant, “do you like working in the loony bin?”

“That’s not what—”

“Oh, God,” she interrupts. “IfI’mnot allowed to talk shit about it, who is? But, fine, whatever.” When she speaks again, she sounds stiffly officious. “Tell me, Mr. Hassan, have you been enjoying your experience at Delia F. Belman Psychiatric Hospital, the preeminent institution of its kind on the North American continent?”

Jordan hesitates. Can youenjoybeing on a psychiatric ward, caring for people living through the worst moments of their lives? Unless your empathy button’s broken, he’s not sure you can. You can love it, maybe, but you’re not going to find itfun.

He says, “Well, I’m learning a lot. And I think it’s really important work.”

Hannah tosses another crumb to the squirrel, which is now following them. “That’s kind of a bullshit answer, but I guess I’ll take it.”

They go a little ways in silence. Hannah’s walk is shuffling and slow—the exact opposite of Jordan’s thoughts. Should he try to find out more about the castle? Should he ask her about her family? Might she be willing to talk to him the way she wouldn’t to a therapist? Could she climb the fence if she tried?

He’s trying to figure out how to break the silence when Hannah does it for him.

“I read that book you gave me,” she says. “Reasons to Live? I liked it. It was … short.”

He laughs. “Yeah, it’s definitely notMoby Dick.”

“Moby Dickwas pretty good,” Hannah says. “I mean, when it’s Ishmael and Queequeg hanging out on land, it’s great. But once they go to sea, there’s just too much ship’s rigging and psychological torment.”

“I’m impressed by your literary analysis,” he says.

What he’s really impressed by is how good she seems. If he was meeting her for the first time right now, he’d never guess there was anything wrong with—correction,different about—her. Anythingneurodivergent.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asks.

“John Steinbeck,East of Eden,” she says without hesitation. “AlsoBrideshead Revisitedby Evelyn Waugh,Love in the Time of Choleraby Gabriel García Márquez, andThe Woman in Whiteby Wilkie Collins.”

“I’m even more impressed now. Did you read those in school? All I remember from high school wasAnimal FarmandThe Great Gatsby.”

“School? Please,” Hannah says, scoffing. “Try the New York Public Library system.” She pushes the sunglasses up on her head. “It’s the fourth biggest in the entire world, for your information. What books do you like, Jordan Hassan?”

Jordan gives a half shrug. Did he likeFoundations of Psychology, Eighth Edition? OrCell and Molecular Biology?Modern Physical Organic Chemistry? The truth is, he can barely remember reading the book he gave to Hannah. It was from a class he took his freshman year, and now that he’s a sophomore, every book he reads is aimed solely at getting him into med school.

“I read theNew Yorkeron the subway,” he offers, but this isn’teven true. He brings theNew Yorkeron his commute, and then he sticks his face into his phone. What did people do before there was Wi-Fi in the subways? His score on Mario Kart Tour is sick.

“Haven’t you read all the studies about how being a good reader makes you a better person?” Hannah asks him.

“I’ve only read the headlines,” he says.

She laughs. “Pitiful.”

“I think I’m doing okay, though,” he protests. “I work all the time, I study, I—”

“Does that make you a good person?” Her gaze is piercing.

Jordan thinks about his dad, the guy who treated everyone but his own son with kindness and respect. Ali Hassan was a champion in the Little League dugout, the life of the neighborhood barbecue, and a goddamn disaster when it came to keeping his anger in check. Does Jordan have that same kind of darkness inside him? When he looks at the hole he punched in his dorm room wall last October, he wonders.

“Do you think you’re a good person?” Hannah says again.

Jordan looks down at her and sees once again the terrified girl he trapped like a deer.I did the right thing, didn’t I?