A World Without You(48)

“They make you hang on to a past that isn’t yours,” she said, pointing to the pile of Grandma’s things that I’d squirreled away.

Grandma had given me the little blue box before she died, even though she’d already labeled it for after her death. I was in middle school, staying overnight at her house, and I was furious. My parents were taking Bo to a special concert in the city as a reward for passing all his classes at the end of eighth grade. Not acing—passing. Here I was with near-perfect scores, and I didn’t get a concert.

“Your brother worked harder than you,” Grandma told me as we watched old episodes of Law & Order on her crappy TV.

“I still did better than him,” I said sullenly.

“It’s not about that,” Grandma said, shaking her head. “I’m going to give you something.” She left the living room, and I could hear her rooting around in her dresser all the way through the commercial break before she came back, the blue velvet box in her hand. She placed it in my palm, then sat down on the couch beside me, watching as I lifted the lid.

The diamond earrings inside sparkled.

“I want you to have these,” Grandma said.

“For my report card?” I lifted the box closer to my face, imagining the diamonds glittering in my ears.

“No,” Grandma said. I looked up at her. “I want you to have these because everyone should have something that makes them feel special.”

The memory makes me smile, and on a whim, I pluck the earrings from the satiny card that holds them and put them on. They’re large, and they sparkle like ice crystals when I turn my head. I sweep my hair up into a ponytail to make sure their glitter isn’t hidden.

Sometimes, growing up with Bo, I feel like I’m invisible. How can my family notice me when they have to spend all their time watching him? These earrings remind me that I’m more than a shadow.

When I get downstairs, Mom already has a bowl and a box of cereal waiting for me.

“What’re you wearing?” she asks.

I look down at the white elephant printed on my shirt, not understanding her meaning.

“Are those your grandmother’s earrings?” There’s a hint of accusation in her voice.

I nod.

“Phoebe,” she says, leveling me with a look, “those are for special occasions only.”

“They don’t have to be,” I say.

She purses her lips at me.

“They’re mine,” I say.

“Go.” She points up the stairs.

There’s no point arguing. I trudge upstairs, taking the earrings out and leaving them in the blue velvet box in my room.

Mom has been strict about the “special occasion” rule since Grandma gave the earrings to me. The only time I’ve ever worn them was at her funeral.





CHAPTER 31




The government officials are sitting in Dr. Franklin’s office, waiting for us during our morning session. Dr. Rivers has a notepad and pen in her hands; Mr. Minh has an audio recorder.

My eyes shoot to Ryan, who’s already sitting on one of the blue plastic chairs arranged in a semicircle around Dr. Franklin’s desk. He scowls straight ahead, ignoring me.

“I’m sorry, kids,” the Doctor says, “but the officials from the state are going to be listening in on today’s session. Please try to pretend they’re not here.”

That won’t be hard. It’s as if everyone’s forgotten they have powers anyway, except for Ryan, and he won’t slip up in front of them.

I sit down next to Ryan, and Gwen takes the seat beside me. She’s more reserved than usual, and I think it’s because the officials’ presence has reminded us all that they’re here because Sofía’s not.

“Today,” the Doctor says, “I want to talk about family.”

“Great,” Ryan mutters.

Dr. Rivers starts writing.

I think of the videos Ryan stole. They’ve all been altered, but they showed something very similar to what’s happening here.

“It’s not real,” I mutter, closing my eyes and remembering Sofía.

“Our families influence us,” the Doctor continues. “They are a part of who we are, whether we like it or not. In what ways have your families influenced you?”

Harold says something none of the rest of us can hear.

“Yes, Harold?” Dr. Franklin asks, moving closer to him. I really hope that whatever Harold said was relevant and not his regular stuff. The officials look like vultures, lurking behind the desk, waiting for us to screw up.

“I’m adopted,” Harold says, a little louder.

“Family doesn’t require blood, right?” the Doctor asks. “Your dads love you. And I’m sure your biological parents have some influence on you, even if you don’t remember them.”

“For example,” Ryan says, “maybe they’re where your crazy comes from.”

The Doc glares at Ryan.

“I remember them,” Harold says, his voice softer now.

“What do you remember about them?” the Doctor asks.

Harold shrugs.

“This is a safe place,” Dr. Franklin adds.

Harold’s eyes slide over to the officials, and he says nothing.