A World Without You(89)

? ? ?

I am alone in the room. Smoke boils on the ceiling.

Where did Gwen go?

When did Gwen go?

? ? ?

I’m losing time.

? ? ?

It’s always about time.

? ? ?

Ringing. Screaming. An alarm.

? ? ?

I step out of Sofía’s room, coughing, choking for air. I have to get out of here. I’ll die if I don’t. I’ll die like Sofía died.

No. Not like Sofía. Sofía died in the cold.

No. NO. Sofía’s not dead.

Smoke billows down the hallway; the flames have spread to other rooms.

? ? ?

You can’t control fire.

I close my eyes and think of the timestream. If I could just go back—just a little jump, just a few minutes ago, I could stop the fire from starting.

You can’t control time.

? ? ?

I throw my arm in front of my face, and I stumble-run down the hallway toward the stairs. As I pass a window, I see people fleeing, escaping the burning building. There’s a thumping sound, and sobbing, and it’s coming from the walls. Wolves in the walls. One of them knows my name.

The fire has jumped the hall, spreading over the wood paneling of the ceiling. Ashes and embers fall like rain. The carpet singes and smokes, black holes ringed with red, burning my bare feet as I run.

The fire alarm is going off. Sprinklers too.

But it’s all too late. Nothing will stop this fire. It will burn until there’s nothing left to burn.

I skid to the landing, barely stopping myself from tumbling down the steps into the foyer. People are streaming out the door—the cooks, the nurses, the other teachers. And I see the Doctor there, standing in front, waving his arm as if that’ll make people move faster.

The entire world around me dances in light and heat.

“COME ON!” Dr. Franklin shouts, and I race down the stairs. He pushes me through the massive front door. One of the other unit leaders, Ms. Grantham, stops me from falling, and she doesn’t let go of my wrist, pulling me down after her with a viselike grip on my arm. “Go to your unit,” she yells at me when we reach the driveway, already running toward her own cluster of students, who’ve gathered in their designated fire area.

I run to Gwen and Ryan, still choking from the burnt air. Smoke billows from the windows and open doors, just like in the house where I saw Sofía trapped when I was falling through time.

That never happened, my brain tells me, but I don’t believe it.

Gwen clutches her arms around her chest as tears stream down her face, her mouth gulping at air. Ryan grabs my arm as soon as he’s close enough and pulls me to the side.

“Don’t you dare tell one damn person what just happened,” he snarls at me.

“About the fire?” I say stupidly, not sure how to react to his vicious tone.

“Don’t be a dumbass,” Ryan says, his voice still low and menacing. “I don’t care how much of a schizo freak you are, don’t you dare even think of telling anyone what we did. You hear me? We didn’t do anything.” His hand squeezes tighter around my arm.

Behind me, the walls of Berkshire howl like wolves, baying to the flames rather than the moon.

Dr. Franklin rushes up to us. “Have any of you seen Harold?” he asks, breathless, panic in his voice.

And that’s when I understand what Ryan meant.

We left Harold. We left him locked in the closet.

To die.





CHAPTER 61




Ryan drops my arm, and the blood tingles back to my fingers. Immediately, my hand goes to my pocket, to the old iron key that rests inside it. I don’t pull it out, but I feel it, and I know that Harold’s salvation lies in the palm of my hand.

I didn’t even think of him.

I let him die. Ryan locked him inside, but I could have unlocked the door. I could have freed him. But I didn’t. Because I forgot. Because I’m that selfish. Because in the end, when the flames licked at my heels, I thought of only my own escape.

I drop to my knees, staring up at the burning building. I can hear sirens blaring down the island—the fire trucks are coming.

It’s too late. I passed the library. I saw the wooden walls catch flame. The room is filled with old books, musty tomes of paper that will ignite with just a spark.

There’s movement by the big front door, still wide open though all the students—all but Harold—are safe outside.

A boy stands there, steaming. His body is drenched in water, but the fire sizzles on his skin, wrapping him in misty clouds. But I can still tell who it is. Carlos Estrada.

“No,” I whisper.

He nods. Yes.

If I’m seeing Carlos, then maybe all hope is not lost. Carlos comes from another time, slipping from the pool that killed him through the timestream to me. He is proof that the timestream is real, that my powers are real. I stand up shakily, the iron key in my fist. I stare, hard, at the burning walls of the academy.

Ryan sees the key in my hand. He grabs my arm and spins me around. “Don’t even think about telling on me,” he growls.

I slam my fist right in his face.

For a moment, I allow myself to feel deep satisfaction at the way that his nose crunches. I hadn’t planned it, but the fist that struck him still held the iron key inside, and blood streams down his cheek from where the metal cut him. Ryan staggers back, clutching his nose, too shocked to speak. Gwen’s sobbing stops as she stares at us.