There was a small crowd clustered around the quarantine house, Dana and Zihna conferring on the porch, Earl visible through the front door that Sammi had never seen open before. Phillip stood with his back against the house, under the overhang a few feet from Dana, looking as though a strong gust of wind would blow him away. Phillip looked smaller, standing there. How many times had Sage gone on and on about how buff he was? Even Sammi had to admit he was the best-looking boy on the island, his blond, blue-eyed good looks saved from being too perfect by that nose of his, which had been broken in a ski accident. Now, though, he was wearing a paper mask on the lower half of his face, the sort that the dental hygienist would wear back when Sammi went in every six months with her mom. “Phillip!” Sage burst ahead of Sammi and broke through the crowd. People stepped out of her way, but before she could get to the porch, Old Mike grabbed her arm and she flailed in his grasp, grunting and pushing off of him.
