It's different. There are classes for, like, everything you can imagine doing. And you'd have to go to a football game. And... see the cacti.

[ Look, it's those giant saguaros she always pictures when she thinks about school—and home. Those and the intense, dry heat. It's so different from here, and for a moment Clarisse is hit by a pang of intense homesickness, the urge to get away from this place and find her way back to familiarity, to comfort. It's not her dorm room in Tucson she thinks of, or the room she stays in at her mom's when she visits, but the creaky old bunk she slept in at camp, and the soft blanket tucked against her chin, and the squabbling sound of her siblings in the background.

She gives Abby a sad, wilting smile. Her stomach hurts. Despite her reassurances, she's not sure what's about to happen, and she's scared of what might. ]

I'd punch the shit out of some infected. We'd kick ass together.