It's not like she's never been in a hospital. The Penderghast children have had their share of breaks and sprains, of childhood complaints, and Olive's as guilty as Kale of getting into scrapes, though she's escaped the stitches he's brought on himself on more than one occasion. All of that, though, is nothing to this, and when she enters the clinic, it's with an unusual degree of trepidation. Claire's hurt, badly hurt, and though she doesn't look as upset or worn down as Olive might have expected, she's still bandaged and bruised, lying in that bed, and it's terrifying. They say the Compound isn't high enough that the fall could kill someone, but that isn't true. Height has a lot to do with it, but it's the impact that counts, and she's reasonably sure the right — the wrong — angle could have been the end of her friend.

Edging around the bed, she pulls the seat closer as she eases into it. "Claire, my God," she says, "what happened? Is there anything I can do or, or get for you or — ?" She shakes her head, abrupt, not sure what she's supposed to do here.