Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(24)

Dex and Keefe both offered, but Biana wrapped an arm around Sophie’s waist and had Sophie lean against her.

“On three,” Mr. Forkle said.

Sophie braced for pain, but when he got to “three” all she felt was a whisper of cold.

“Is that it?” she asked. “I don’t see the memory.”

“It takes a moment to register on your consciousness. You should feel it . . . now.”

Sophie swayed as the memory hit, fighting to get her bearings. It felt like her mind had been dropped into the middle of a movie running on fast forward.

That’s me, she realized as the scene slowed to a normal pace and she watched her five-year-old self reading on the steps in front of her small square house.

What book is that? Fitz transmitted.

Looks like an encyclopedia. I read the whole thing from A to Z by the time I was six.

She wasn’t supposed to be reading that day. Her mom had ordered her to go outside and play with Bethany Lopez, the first-grader who lived across the street. But Bethany had called her Dorktionary and told her to go spell something. Sophie had just beaten a fifth grader in her school’s spelling bee. She didn’t understand why everyone was making such big deal about it. Why did it matter that she was only in kindergarten? Why was her principal talking to her parents about having her skip grades?

That was the real reason her parents had sent her outside. They’d caught her listening to their whispered conversation. She’d still heard three words, though: “She’s not normal.”

Sophie could feel her eyes burn as her emotions synced with the memory. Her five-year-old self hadn’t understood why it was so hard to fit in like her parents wanted. She’d been thinking about running away when she’d felt the prickly sense of someone watching her.

She could feel Fitz lean closer as they relived the moment she’d looked up and spotted the strange boy in the blue bramble jersey. He was peeking at her from behind her yard’s sycamore tree—or she assumed he was. His head was turned her way, but his face was a blur.

Sophie fought to focus the memory, but the boy remained fuzzy, even as he raised a crystal up to the sunlight and disappeared. Now Sophie knew he’d light leaped—but at the time she’d been terrified she’d seen a ghost. She’d grabbed her book and raced for the safety of her house. But her toe caught on the concrete stairs, and the last thing she remembered was the ground racing toward her and a sharp pain in her head.

From there the memory skipped to the part Sophie already knew: waking up in the hospital, hearing thoughts for the first time and crying because she couldn’t understand what was happening.

Whoa, Fitz transmitted. The voices feel like knives.

I know, Sophie thought, fighting to shut down the memory. Her mind seemed determined to relive every second.

I knew it had to be scary, manifesting so young, Fitz said, but I never realized it was like that.

Fitz’s hands were shaking now, sharing five-year-old Sophie’s terror as she’d screamed and thrashed, begging someone to make the voices stop. The doctors hovered around her, sticking her with needles, checking equipment.

How long was it like this before you figured it out? Fitz asked.

The doctors gave her another sedative, Mr. Forkle told them, and while she was out I was able to plant the truth in her mind so she’d understand I’d tried to do that before, but hadn’t been able to reach her while the ability was still manifesting.

That makes sense, Sophie thought. I remember somehow knowing that I was hearing thoughts. Also that I couldn’t ever tell anyone. I’d never felt so alone.

I’m sorry, Mr. Forkle said.

“Uh, are you guys okay?” Keefe asked. “Foster’s emotions are spiking all over the place, and Fitz feels . . . weird.”

“I’m fine,” Sophie promised, shaking her head to clear it. She turned to Mr. Forkle. “But I still can’t see the boy’s face, or how you triggered my telepathy.”

“You were unconscious for the telepathy triggering. And the boy’s face is blurry because he was wearing an addler. It’s a gadget that makes it impossible for your eyes to focus on the wearer’s face. They were very popular during the Human Assistance Program, since humans forget anyone they cannot recognize.”

“Why would the boy have one?” Sophie asked. “And who was he? Why was he there?”

“Those are the questions I’ve been trying to answer for the last eight years. Obviously he’s with the Neverseen, but I have no idea how he found you, or why he didn’t seem to realize what you truly were. I’m glad he didn’t, because I wasn’t watching you as closely back then. I hadn’t even known you were outside until I heard the neighbor girl shouting that you’d fallen. I ran out to check and found you bleeding and unconscious. When I probed your recent memories, I realized you’d seen an elf and I was tempted to grab you and flee. But there were too many people watching. Plus, the boy had disappeared, and I hoped that meant he’d crossed you off whatever list he was working from. Still, I decided to move up your timeline just in case. I called 9-1-1 and triggered your telepathy, knowing the head injury would be an excuse to help your mind accept the new ability. I also altered your memory to be sure you’d forget the boy. And then I never let you out of my sight again.”

“If you erased the memory that quickly,” Keefe asked, “how did Foster write about the boy in her journal?”