I have built a safe haven for myself in normalcy, but it’s terribly lonely here.
CHAPTER 39
“We need to talk,” Ryan whispers to me. His breath smells like mustard. “I just overheard some of the staff talking about ‘official letters’ that are being sent out to families during spring break.”
Family Day butts up against spring break—in fact, most parents take their kids home after the luncheon. Even though Ryan’s shuttle to the airport won’t pick him up until tomorrow morning, I saw his bags were already packed and waiting by his bedroom door.
“So?” I ask, my eyes still on the staircase that leads to the Doctor’s office, where Phoebe is.
“So, official letters mean official shit. The government goons are getting ready to go; the letters probably include their verdict on all this bull.” When I don’t answer, Ryan adds, “I’m worried they’re going to shut the school down. Haven’t you noticed the way the teachers have been acting?”
I watch as the weather outside the window swirls rapidly, from hurricane winds to a bright sunny day to flurries of snow. I clench my eyes shut, and when I look again, there’s nothing but the gray overcast sky.
“Berkshire can’t close,” I say under my breath. “I need it now more than ever.”
“Exactly, you idiot. If it closes, I’m off to military school, and who knows what they’ll do with you. I actually like this place. I’m not going to let them mess it all up just because of what happened to Sofía.”
“I know,” I say, turning my full attention to him. “If I could just save her, they would have to go.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen.” Ryan’s distracted, his voice dismissing my words.
“What”—I take a deep breath—“are you saying?”
Something in my voice causes Ryan to pause, and when he turns toward me again, there’s something unrecognizable in his eyes. Is it fear? “Sorry, dude, I mean, I’m sure you can save her, it’s just . . .” He struggles for words.
I release my breath. “Nah, man, I get it. My powers are out of whack. I just thought . . . I thought maybe the officials were somehow getting to you too. Everyone’s been so different since they arrived . . .”
Ryan smirks. “They’re not getting to me,” he says. “I’m in full control.” He turns again, eyeing a huddle of teachers clustered near the door, their heads bent close together, whispering.
“Full control of what?” Gwen’s voice is pitched lower than normal as she approaches us. She shoves herself beside me, using her body to force me to take a step away from Ryan. “What are you talking about?” she says aggressively.
“Nothing. Move along.” Ryan waves his hand, dismissing her.
Gwen turns to me. “Bo,” she says, her voice much softer. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I am,” I say.
“What’s Ryan been telling you?”
“Nothing,” I say.
Her frown deepens. Past her shoulder, I can see Ryan’s face is turning angry. He’s never really liked Gwen, and the way she interrupted him . . . he’s not a very patient guy.
“Look, Gwen,” I say, pulling her aside. “Everything’s going to be okay. I know Ryan’s not your favorite, but I have to work with him right now—”
“Why?” Her voice slices through my words like a knife. “Why do you have to work with that asshole? You know he’s just using you, right? I don’t know how or why, but that’s all Ryan does—he uses people.”
“Now that’s not very nice,” Ryan says. His voice is idle, almost bored, but it doesn’t mask the fury building behind his eyes.
“Well, it’s true,” Gwen snaps, not bothering to turn around and look at him. “Bo, whatever he’s trying to drag you into—”
“Gwen, it’s okay,” I say, trying to placate her. Some of the teachers near the door are looking our way. “Look, I know you don’t understand what’s going on. It’s not your fault. The officials—”
“God, there’s not some weird conspiracy against you!” Gwen’s voice is growing desperate. “The officials aren’t doing anything but investigating Sofía’s death.”
“And trying to shut down this school,” Ryan growls.
“Well, maybe it should be shut down!”
The teachers by the door shoot Gwen a look. It’s Family Day. There are people watching. Gwen nods at them so they don’t try to separate us, and she continues in a lower voice, “Maybe if the Doctor had a better idea of what’s going on, maybe if he was more willing to drug us up or whatever, maybe Sofía wouldn’t have died.”
Gwen can’t help that she doesn’t understand. She’s too deep in the officials’ illusion.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I know you don’t understand, but we’re going to make it all okay.”
“You’re not,” Gwen says bluntly. “And the school will shut down anyway.”
“I will not let that happen,” Ryan says in a fierce, low voice. Behind him, a painting of Berkshire Academy when it first opened trembles on the wall. He can’t control his telepathy when he’s emotional.
“Whatever.” Gwen glares at him, and when she turns to face me, the sympathy in her eyes from before is gone, replaced by anger and impatience. “I tried. There’s no getting through to you.”
She storms off, heading in the direction of her mom. And even though Gwen’s forgotten about her powers, I see sparks trickling from her balled-up fists.
“So the first thing we have to do,” Ryan says, “is confirm that all records are destroyed. If Gwen’s right and the school is definitely doomed, at least we can make sure that we’re not sent somewhere worse.”
I see movement at the top of the stairs. I jerk my head around, expecting to see Phoebe, but instead, at the top of the landing is a soaking wet boy staring at me through clumps of dripping hair. “Be right back,” I tell Ryan. Ignoring his protests, I creep up the stairs toward the drowned Carlos Estrada. I move slowly, as if I were approaching a deer in the wild.
“Hey,” I say in a low voice.
Carlos Estrada doesn’t move, but his red-rimmed eyes flick to me.
“Why . . . why are you here? Why am I seeing you?”
Carlos opens his mouth. Water pours from it, and he makes a gurgling sound.
“Do you know . . . can you speak to Sofía?” I ask.
And then he’s gone.
“Who are you talking to?” a small voice says from the top step.
I turn. Ryan, who followed me, is staring at me like I’m nuts, but Harold is with him, and he just looks curious.
I go to Harold immediately. Everyone always ignores Harold. But there’s no one that I want to talk to more right now.
“So you didn’t see . . . ?” I jerk my head toward the empty space in the hallway where Carlos Estrada had been dripping water all over the carpet.
Harold shakes his head. He hadn’t seen him.
That means I’m not seeing ghosts—although Carlos Estrada was certainly dead. No, I’m seeing people from the past. I’m seeing Carlos Estrada in the moment just before he died, pulling him from the pool as his lungs filled with water. If he had been saved, if someone had noticed in time and dragged him from the water and given him CPR and saved his life, would Carlos Estrada have sputtered out an impossible tale about swallowing water and then ending up in the lush hallway of a beautiful academy, with a boy talking to him, quizzing him about Sofía?
If I grab hold of Carlos next time I see him, will I be pulled into his present, at the quinceañera where Sofía was, underwater but in the same time as her? Would I bob up to the surface and surprise a fifteen-year-old version of my girlfriend? I’m going to try that. Next time I see him, I’m going to try that.
A giggle of relief escapes my lips. It hardly matters. What matters is that I’m not seeing ghosts, not like Harold does.
Sure, that
means rather than going crazy or being haunted, I’m in a world where the timestream is cracking around me, and it’s possible that the entire space-time continuum is shattering at my feet like broken glass, but it also means that as I crash through time, I will see Sofía, and that’s enough for me.
“Thanks,” I say to Harold. I turn on my heel, heading toward the dorms. I want to try the timestream again. The Doctor always says that it’s our emotions that lead to a lack of control, and I am hoping that it’s been my doubts that have affected my ability to travel in time. The more I questioned whether I could save Sofía, the more erratic the timestream became. Intent matters. Maybe confidence does too.
Dr. Franklin’s office door swings open as I pass, and Phoebe practically collides into me. “Bo!” the Doctor says, surprised. “I didn’t know you were there!”
I glare at him, at Phoebe as she leaves, walking hurriedly to the stairs and back to our parents without meeting my eyes. What was that about? What did he tell her? What did she tell him?
“Come into my office,” Dr. Franklin says, holding the door open.
CHAPTER 40
He asks how I’m doing.
I lie and say everything is fine. I don’t mention the cracks in the timestream. I don’t mention seeing Carlos Estrada or any of the other people from the past.
I don’t even mention Sofía.
But I do bring up Phoebe. “What were you talking to her about?”
“Just how she’s doing. She thinks you’re happier here than at home. Is that true?”
It was. Before all this shit happened.
“She mentioned that she broke her arm when she was a kid. Do you remember that?”
That seems like an odd thing for her to bring up.
“What’d she tell you?” I ask.
“Just that it was an accident.”
So she didn’t spill that I was traveling to the past when I was that young. Phoebe at least can keep my secrets, if nothing else.
“What else were you talking about?”
“Your mom just wanted me to reach out to her.”
“Why?” I shoot back aggressively. “What’s wrong with her?” My heart clenches, and I wonder: Am I more concerned that something’s wrong, or am I worried that she’s going to outshine me in this too—that she also has a power, a better one than mine?
“No, no,” the Doctor says. “Nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure she’s okay. She’s under a lot of stress.”
“Stress? Phoebe?”
“There are different kinds of stress, Bo,” the Doctor says, his voice placating and annoying. “You’re dealing with your problems, but that doesn’t mean Phoebe doesn’t have her own.”
Choosing a college and wondering whether or not she’s going to get an A, that’s her stress. She doesn’t have to worry about whether or not her power is driving her crazy, or if she can save her girlfriend from dying in the past while also saving everyone else and the school in the present.
Stress. Okay.
Dr. Franklin tells me how proud he is of me, how much more in control of my emotions I’ve been lately. If he knew that the timestream was leaking everywhere, I doubt he’d say that.
But I have to remind myself that this isn’t the Doctor I know. This is a Doctor under the influence of the officials.
He tells me about the medication he wants me to take during spring break. “Of course, I’ve spoken with your parents about all this as well.”
That could prove to be a problem. Whatever the Doc’s been telling Dad has already made him distrustful of me. If he piles a bunch of pills in Mom’s hands, I’m sure she’s going to try to make me take them.
I know this is the officials’ doing. They can’t alter my perception, so they’re trying a different tactic—they want to drug me into submission. I should warn Ryan that they might try to drug him too.
“When you get back,” the Doctor continues, “Dr. Rivers and Mr. Minh will be gone. They’ve concluded their investigation into Sofía’s death and the school’s practices.”
“Gone?” I repeat.
Dr. Franklin nods.
“They’re just . . . going to go away?” I ask, still not believing it. They have total control of the school. Why just . . . leave?
“Their work is done. They’re issuing a report to the board, and the school may change based on that, but it’s all pretty much over.” His voice is a little sad.
Outside Dr. Franklin’s window, an old-timey ship bobs on the waves in the ocean. When I blink, it’s gone.
And so am I.
I’ve been pulled back into a different time. Snow and frost crust the windows, and the radiator rattles in the corner. No one else is in the Doc’s office. I stand up from the blue plastic chair, slowly turning around, looking for a clue. The door starts to open, and I dive behind Dr. Franklin’s filing cabinets.
Dr. Franklin walks into his office, but it’s the Doctor from sometime in the past. I’m not sure when. Not too long ago.
He goes immediately to his desk and sits down. I stand motionless. How did he not see me? I’m not that well hidden.
A knock at the door, a quiet, hesitant tap.
“Come in,” the Doctor says, and the door to his office widens a little more.
Sofía walks in.
She looks right at me.
But it’s clear she doesn’t see me. Neither of them do. I may as well be invisible.
This doesn’t make sense, I think. I can travel through time, but it’s still me. My body. They should be able to see me.
“Let’s talk,” the Doctor says kindly.
Sofía fiddles with her necklace—a silver chain with a dolphin charm.
“What’s wrong?” Dr. Franklin says when Sofía doesn’t speak. “Can you tell me about it?”
Sofía doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t shrug or dismiss the Doctor; she’s just still and silent.
I creep closer, looking at her, really looking at her. Sofía was very good at going unnoticed even when she wasn’t invisible. But I look now, and I see the dark marks under her eyes. I see the way her lips are chapped and dry. I see the way her skin lacks its usual glow.
I see the way she sits on the edge of her seat, her eyes pleading with the Doctor’s, begging him to see that something is wrong with her. Hoping he can understand. That he can help.
“You have to talk to me,” Dr. Franklin says, and I notice desperation in his voice. “I want to help, but I can’t do it without you.”
I sit down beside Sofía, in the same seat that I was occupying before I slipped back in time. Neither of them acknowledges my existence.
The Doctor waits a long time for Sofía to talk, but she remains silent.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, even though I know she can’t see me. “I didn’t realize.” I still don’t realize. I just know that something is wrong, something important, and I didn’t see it before. She needed me, and I didn’t see it.
“Everything’s okay now,” Sofía tells the Doctor in a soft voice that still holds a note of steely determination. She sounds as if she’s made a decision.
And then she turns to look at me. Her irises are invisible. They always were the first things to go.
“You need to wake up,” she says, staring at me.
“Can you see me?” I say. “What’s going on? Why can’t Dr. Franklin see me? And what do you mean?”
“Wake up!” she shouts, the last word drowning into a scream.
I jerk back, stumbling out of my chair.
“Bo?” the Doctor asks.
I’m back in the present.
“Is something wrong?”
I stare at the empty chair beside me. “No,” I say slowly. “No, everything’s okay now.”
CHAPTER 41
I sit cross-legged on the cool sandy soil in front
of the ruined remains of the chimney at the edge of the marsh. I’m so still that an observer might think I’m meditating.
But I’m not. I’m waiting.
I stare at the timestream, concentrating on the areas that are leaking around me. Not all of the times and places breaking through are connected to the island, but most are. The Native American tribes I catch glimpses of look like the ones that lived here before the first European settlers, and the Pilgrims I see could be from any of the colonies, but it seems likely that they live nearby. The kids from the sick camp are obviously from around here.
It takes me a while to realize that the people who are showing up from different places—people like Carlos Estrada, or a Mexican family speaking Spanish rapidly, or a group of giggling girls around fifteen years old dressed in fluffy dresses—they’re all coming from different places, but they all link back to her.
All the leaks in time are centered on either the island or Sofía. Somehow, they’re connected. And if I can figure out that connection, maybe I can figure out how to stop the leaks, control the timestream, and save Sofía.
So I’m waiting, watching, trying to piece together all the different bits of time swirling in and around this place.
Trying to forget the way Sofía’s eyes turned invisible as she screamed at me.
I am perfectly still as the timestream creaks and groans like the deck of a wooden ship. I turn my head slightly to see a group of kids rushing by, running and laughing, one of them waving a long, colorfully decorated stick. Something from Sofía’s past—some childhood birthday party or similar. I consider jumping up and chasing them back into their time, where I could see Sofía when she was eight or nine years old. Maybe I could warn her to stay away from the boy who can control time.
But she’d be too young. And I’d be too out of place.
A fire crackles in the ruins’ hearth. The fire spreads, both creating and destroying the house as it burns. I can feel the heat of it on my skin, and its smoke blinds me. I start coughing and stumble back, moving away from the flames. This is how the house was destroyed in the 1700s. It wasn’t people who slipped through the timestream this time, it was the whole damn house.