A World Without You(85)

I remember the morning we snuck away from the Berk to watch the sun rise over the ocean, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms until the waves licked at the bottoms of our feet. We’d missed the sun, but found each other.

? ? ?

I remember another morning. The morning that she left me.

I saw her from my window, just like I saw the Doctor this morning. I don’t remember what I was thinking; I just knew I wanted to be with Sofía. I dressed quickly and ran outside. I went to the camp ruins first.

I saw her shoes. Her red shoes.

It was cold, and I picked up her shoes because I knew she’d need them.

But Sofía wasn’t at the camp.

I walked to the edge of the grounds, to the ruins of the chimney, where I found Sofía, curled up inside the fireplace. Sleeping.

No, not sleeping. There was vomit on her shirt, bright red and orange like fire, some of it clinging to her lips.

No. I took her back in time. There was literal fire in the fireplace, and a house, and she got stuck in Salem.

But then the Doctor was there. He’d followed us. “Oh my God,” he said.

I found her. I was there. I saw it.

NO! I scream, but the word never reaches my lips.

Ryan’s influence is too strong, even here at the edge of the academy grounds. This isn’t how it happened, Sofía’s not dead, she’s just lost, and I can bring her back. I can, I can.

The Doctor pats me on the back and uses my shoulder as leverage to help him stand. “I just want you to know, Bo, that whatever happens, you’re a good kid. You couldn’t prevent Sofía’s suicide. I don’t think anyone could. If she hadn’t taken the pills, she would have found another way. When someone’s depressed like that, when they don’t have the will to live anymore . . . if time can’t heal them, nothing can.”

That’s just the thing, though, isn’t it? Time can heal her. It can. It can do anything. As long as I control it.





CHAPTER 58


Phoebe



I’m home alone.

It’s actually somewhat rare for me to have the entire house to myself. Dad works from home, and Mom doesn’t work at all, so there’s almost always someone else around. But today Mom went to a women’s meeting at church, and Dad had “business” at a bar in Boston, so it’s just me.

This house is always quiet, but it’s the uncomfortable sort of quiet, the kind where you can almost hear people trying not to make a sound. Today, there’s real silence, which is kind of nice.

I half considered inviting Jenny and Rosemarie over, but it’s not like the three of us would have a wild party or anything. We’d just end up watching movies, and that just feels so exhausting right now.

We got a letter from Berkshire Academy. It said that the school was being shut down.

It’s been a source of much debate between my parents—what do they do with Bo now? He’ll be coming home at the end of the semester, and Mom has nowhere to take him in the fall. Dr. Franklin called our house personally to suggest that Bo move to a more secure facility in the future, and he recommended one in upstate New York.

Dad was immediately against it. The school Dr. Franklin recommended puts academics on the back burner in favor of focusing on therapy; it would take Bo an additional two years at least to graduate, and Dr. Franklin recommended a six-year program that would give Bo an associate’s degree at the end. “Six years?” Dad had raged. “For just an associate’s degree?”

“It’s not about the degree, George,” Mom had said quietly.

It’s not about the money either.

The school in New York is even more expensive than Berkshire Academy. I added it up. Three months of Bo’s current tuition would fully pay for me to go on the class trip to Europe this summer. Four thousand dollars. That’s the recommended allowance for the trip and spending money. Four thousand—though I could probably swing just three, if I didn’t buy anything and was careful with food. That’s nothing compared to what Bo costs, between tuition and medication and travel and that last hospital visit and . . .

I threw away the pamphlet about Europe.

Rosemarie isn’t going on the trip either. She has no problem telling anyone who asks that her family can’t afford that much money, not for something like a trip, not with college expenses just around the corner.

Jenny is going.

The thing is, I deserve that trip. I study, hard, all the time. I bust my butt in every college-level course James Jefferson High School offers, even science, which I hate. I’m in the top 2 percent of my grade. I’ve joined every club, I stay after school for orchestra practice, I even tried out for the tennis team just so colleges would consider me more “well-rounded.” Not because I want to do any of that.

Because I know I need a scholarship to escape. Bo may get tens of thousands handed to him to go to a school with bars on the windows, but my parents aren’t going to have that kind of money when it’s my turn.

I deserve a trip to Europe. I deserve, just once, just once in my whole life, to be selfish. That’s all I want. It’s not even about Europe; it’s about getting the chance to be selfish. Bo asked me what I want in the future, and it’s this. I want to be stupid and selfish, and I want to do things without overthinking them first. I want the chance to just . . . be normal. My whole life has been a giant compromise around Bo—what Bo needs to be healthy, what bills have to be paid for Bo, what allowances in time have to be carved out, which holidays have to be shortened, which weekends sacrificed, which things I want that have to wait until later so Bo can get what he needs first.