A World Without You(23)



“Bo,” he says warmly, standing up as I enter his office.

“What’s going on?” I ask. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickle. I remember the dull, metallic noise of my doorknob being rattled last night by the unit leader who was waiting for me.

He sighs. “Friday was a rough day for all of us. I wanted to see how you were doing now that you’ve had some time to process and sort out your feelings.”

I shrug. That day had been rough because he made it rough. I was forced to spend the entire day “mourning” Sofía when I could have been figuring out how to save her. I know we had to make it feel real for the staff who aren’t in on the academy’s true purpose, but it was still a waste. A pointless day that made everyone sad for no reason at all.

And it made me feel like a failure. Like Dr. Franklin and everyone else had already given up on me. On Sofía.

“I just wish I could have stopped it,” I say. It would be so simple if I could just go back in time and stop myself from losing her. But time’s not simple.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Dr. Franklin says.

I shoot him an exasperated look. We both know it’s entirely my fault. If I hadn’t taken her back, she wouldn’t be stuck in the past. But all I say is, “It’s okay.”

The Doctor frowns. “Sometimes we redirect our emotions because we’re scared of them,” he says slowly. “In times like these, it’s important to remember that it’s natural to grieve.”

“Grieve?” I ask. “I’m not going to grieve. I’m going to save her.”

The Doctor stands up and moves closer to me, his hand trailing across the wooden surface of his desk. His fingers tap on the edge of his desk, his face impassive but his eyes gleaming. I glance down at where he’s tapping and see a small video camera on a tabletop tripod. The camera’s not new; Dr. Franklin has recorded our sessions before. But this time, the light is blinking. It’s recording. In the past, he’d tape us so that we could watch ourselves using our powers and learn from our mistakes. But I’m not using my power right now . . .

“Bo, I’m not sure you’ve fully processed what happened to Sofía,” Dr. Franklin says. “It’s . . . not about saving her. You can’t save her. You know that, right?”

I rear back violently. “Why would you say that?” I ask. “I can! I will. You just have to trust me. You have to give me a chance.”

“Bo.” The Doctor leaves the desk and stands in front of me, positioning himself between me and the camera. I search his face for answers, but I don’t understand the look he’s giving me. Concern and worry and . . . something else. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something with his eyes, but I’m not Ryan—I can’t peek inside his mind and understand the thoughts he hides there.

“Bo,” he repeats. “You have to understand this. You have to face the truth. Sofía is gone.”

“Not forever,” I protest weakly.

“Forever. She’s gone. She’s dead. You can’t bring her back.”

Bile rises in my throat. I shove Dr. Franklin away so hard that he collides with the desk. The camera shakes unevenly on its mount. I want to scream at him not to give up on me. I know I can still save her. But the word he used—dead—it rattles me. He knows the truth. He knows she’s not dead. He knows she’s stuck in the past. So why would he lie? Is this a test? Does he want to see if I can keep control of my power under stress? My mind churns. What does he want from me?

I don’t realize I’ve started pacing until the Doctor grabs my shoulders to stop me. He gently pries my fingers away from my scalp, where I’d been clutching my hair so hard that a headache is beginning to bubble to the surface. I look down at my hands, at my curling fingers, and I force myself to take a deep breath, to let my muscles relax. That’s my problem—that’s always been my problem. When things go wrong, I freak.

He doesn’t let go of me. His eyes lock on mine until he has my full focus.

“You’re losing control,” he says, the words reverberating through my head.

Control. This has always been about control. And my lack of it.

My eyes fall to the blinking light of the camera on the Doctor’s desk. Before I can ask why he’s recording us, the door to the Doctor’s office opens. Ryan steps inside without looking at us. “Oh,” he says casually when he deigns to notice us. “Want me to wait outside?” He doesn’t move toward the door.

Dr. Franklin steps back from me. “No, it’s fine. It’s almost time to start.”

As Dr. Franklin moves to the other side of his desk, Gwen enters, followed by Harold. We all take our usual seats in a semicircle around the Doc’s desk. Ryan tries to get my attention, but my eyes are glued to the camera. Why is it on? What is the Doctor hoping to capture on film?

The Doctor starts speaking, but I can’t focus on him. It’s clear that today we’re going to be talking about our feelings—about Sofía—rather than about our powers.

A knock at the door interrupts the Doctor before he can get really started. Ms. Temple, the history tutor, peeks her head inside the door. “Your guests have arrived,” she tells the Doctor and then steps back out into the hallway. Dr. Franklin moves immediately to the door, speaking softly to whoever else is out there. Beside me, Gwen grows warm, sparks crackling on her clothing. She’s on edge.

Beth Revis's Books