A World Without You(26)

If the witches have Sofía, maybe she’s safe. Maybe they’re hiding her. Maybe they realized what she was, and they’re protecting her.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

The first thing I bring up online is a list of the women who were put on trial in Salem and the surrounding areas. None of them are named Sofía Muniz, but there are at least five people who were taken prisoner whose names no one bothered to record. So either the witches are keeping Sofía safe (hopefully), or they’re real, evil, magical beings and Sofía has to hide from them (unlikely), or Sofía’s one of the unnamed prisoners (shit).

Or she’s safe, using her power of invisibility to protect herself. Sofía’s smart. And it’s far better for her to be stuck in that world than, say, Harold, who’d probably be hanged on the spot, or Gwen, who’d probably welcome the burning-at-the-stake thing. I pull my notebook closer, making a rough sketch of the area of Massachusetts that was affected by the trials, marking down every name and method of death with little X’s on the map. There aren’t that many near Pear Island, but they could have taken her inland . . .

But even if Sofía is safe for now, she won’t be okay forever. Still, Harold said Sofía’s not a ghost, so for now I’m hopeful.

He also said, before, that some people die and don’t come back. That was one of the first things he said, the day he introduced himself, that of all the people he sees in the afterlife, he’s never seen his birth mother. But Sofía wouldn’t do that. She’d come back to me.

She would.

“Hey, loser.” Ryan’s voice snaps me out of my dark thoughts.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, moving to close my computer screen and hide my research.

Ryan shrugs. “Temple let me skip too,” he says. He stares at my notebook, and it rises in the air, landing neatly in his outstretched hand. “What the hell is this?” he says, scanning my notes. “Cake of piss?”

I try to act casual so Ryan won’t think my notes are important. “I’m researching. For extra credit. Did you know that they made cake out of pee as a method to try to figure out who was a witch and who wasn’t during the Salem Witch Trials?” I say as Ryan sits down across from me.

“Dude. Gross.” He tosses back my notebook. “Listen,” he says. “You’re going to have to cool it with all the ‘powers’ talk. You know you can’t say that shit in front of the officials, right?”

“I’m not stupid,” I snap back.

“Debatable.” He watches me coolly, waiting for my reaction. When I don’t give him one, he says, “So if you’re Mr. Time Travel, why don’t you just go back to the Salem Witch Trials and do all your research in person?” he asks, leaning back in his chair as if he’s proven something groundbreaking with this statement. There’s a hint of mockery in his voice.

“It doesn’t work like that,” I say, trying to remain calm. Ryan likes to find ways to pick at people, pick, pick, pick until they break. It’s part of his arsenal. The Doctor has said more than once that Ryan will develop stronger telepathy to go alongside his telekinesis. So not only can he move things with his mind, but he can read minds too. Or he’ll be able to soon. It’s hard to tell if that power has manifested itself yet, but what I do know is that Ryan is manipulative as hell.

“So Sofía’s stuck in the past, huh?” Ryan says, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling as if that were more enjoyable than talking to me.

“Yes. You know that.”

“Yeah . . .” he says slowly. “But you’re going to make sure you don’t mention that in front of those government dudes.”

“I won’t,” I say emphatically, hoping he’ll leave now that he’s gotten his answer.

But he doesn’t take the hint; he stays right where he is. “I don’t like them. Government officials sniffing around are never a good thing for a place like this. And Dr. Franklin . . .” Ryan shakes his head, his tongue pushing against his cheek. “I can’t believe he actually gave them the tapes of our sessions. That’s what was on that USB drive, you know. Videos. Of us. And . . .” Ryan waggles his fingers, and the pen he’d been twirling flies free, spinning toward my face until Ryan catches it with his telepathy and lets it fall harmlessly toward the table.

“The Doctor probably has a plan,” I say weakly, but I can’t help but share Ryan’s concern. The Doc was so casual about it all, as if the cameras and their contents were no big deal, when in reality they prove everything that Berkshire is trying to help us hide.

Ryan laughs bitterly. “Well, if he doesn’t have our back, I do.”

I stare at him, trying to figure out what he means. Then I remember the Doctor’s explanation that some files had been damaged, and he had to make the USB from a backup. Did Ryan corrupt the files? Did he alter them?

“The Berk is your first school like this, right?” Ryan asks. “I’ve been bouncing around special schools since sixth grade. This one is my favorite, and I’ll protect it, even if Dr. Franklin won’t.”

Berkshire is supposed to be our safe place. Sure, it’s in a crappy location, but it’s safe. If the Doctor is willing to work with the government, though . . . if he’s willing to share our secrets, then we’re in danger. Every student at the academy, most of the teachers—we’d all be put under a microscope. Tested. Used. Treated like freaks.