A World Without You (15 page)

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.

“What about someone else? In what ways have your
families influenced you?” The Doctor scans the room. “It's not just about parents. What about siblings?” His eyes rest on me. “What about your sister, Bo? Siblings are often reflections of each other. Maybe you're so quiet because she's boisterous at home?” He says this in a jovial tone, as if we have some sort of inside joke together. But he couldn't be more wrong. Phoebe,
boisterous
? Hardly. Phoebe's emotions are measured out carefully, like Mom when she's measuring flour for a recipe, scraping off the top of the fluffy white powder to have exactly the right amount in the cup.

The Doctor tries again. “Or has she influenced your life in some way?”

“She hasn't,” I say.

“Oh, I find that hard to believe.” The Doctor moves across the circle toward me. “Growing up, I had a younger brother. I think in a lot of ways, siblings help define each other. My brother was good at sports, so I focused on academics. I may not have become a doctor if it hadn't been for him.”

Sure, there are differences between Phoebe and me. That's about all there is between us.

“Do you think there's some aspect of your sister that is a reflection of you? Maybe something she does helps you define yourself, maybe the way she sees the world has helped define reality for you.”

I sit up straighter at that. Whether he meant to or not, Dr. Franklin actually gave me an idea. Last night, I saw her there. I saw her on the Titanic with me, as kids. She was there. She's my proof.

“Yeah, I guess,” I say so that the Doctor looks away from me
and focuses on Gwen instead. I watch the government officials as I lean back and surreptitiously pull out my cell phone, scrolling through my contacts until I find Pheebs's number.

Hey,
I text her.

The little waiting icon flashes, and it feels like forever until she texts me back.
Bo?

Yeah.
I glance around me. The Doctor frowns at my cell phone and shakes his head slightly, reprimanding me. I pretend to put it away, but thankfully Harold starts rambling about how he misses his little sister, and the Doc's attention shifts.

Gotta ask u smthg
, I text quickly.

What?

I do another quick scan of the room; all eyes are on Harold.

Remember when we were kids?
I text.
Remember the Titanic?

I watch the waiting icon on my screen, not daring to breathe. If Phoebe remembers going back to the Titanic with me, she'll confirm everything: my powers, the true purpose of Berkshire, the altered videos.

Yeah
, she texts back,
ofc.

Of course. Of course she remembers.

That's how I broke my arm
, she adds, the words popping up on the screen.
But it was cool.

I breathe a sigh of relief.
It was real.
Whatever—whoever—is altering everyone's perception of reality . . . it's centered here, at the academy.

When I look up from my phone, the room is silent. Harold's rambling had stopped without my noticing, and the government officials' eyes are glued on me. Dr. Rivers glares at me, and I shudder under her intense look.

“Bo, put away your phone,” the Doctor says. “You know better.”

I start to click the screen off, but I can't get over the weird way Dr. Rivers is staring at me. Just before my phone darkens, I glance down at the message. Phoebe's words,
But it was cool
, fade. I blink. Before my eyes, they change:
But it was just a game
.

“No,” I gasp, staring down at the altered text.

“Bo,” Dr. Franklin says again, a note of warning in his voice. “Your phone.”

Dr. Rivers is still staring at me, her eyes dark and unfocused. When I shove my phone in my pocket, I can't help but notice the way she smirks at me.

• • •

I yank out my cell phone the second the Doctor dismisses us. I stare at that last word from Phoebe,
game
. Is it my cell phone that's showing me a false message, or did Phoebe change somehow? If I were to go to her right now, would she remember the Titanic, or would she think we were playing pretend?

“I'm glad to see you've recovered after your late-night wanderings,” Dr. Rivers says, stepping beside me.

I cram my phone back in my pocket. “What are you doing?” I growl.

“Mr. Minh and I will be observing your classes today,” she says sweetly, holding the classroom door open for the rest of the unit and me. Her eyes mock me; she knows very well what I meant.

The officials sit in the back of the classroom as Ms. Okafor teaches us math. They watch silently as Mr. Ingle passes out
copies of
The Catcher in the Rye
for us to read. My eyes skim across the page.

I glance over at Gwen. She's already on chapter two of the book. I turn the page, even though I have no idea what's written on it.

My phone weighs heavily in my pocket. I hate the idea of the officials doing something to mess with Phoebe's head. I hope it was just the text that changed and not her. I never wanted to drag my family into this.

The next morning,
the officials are in Dr. Franklin's office with the door closed. Even though it's time for our session to start, we're stuck in the hallway, waiting.

“How much longer are they going to be here?” Ryan asks.

“Why don't they just go?” My voice holds more anger than I'd intended, but I don't really care.

Ryan shrugs. “They have no evidence, no videos, and no one's said anything. Sofía's dead, mystery solved, go home.”

My stomach aches at how easily Ryan mentions Sofía's death, even though I know he knows it's not real. But he's right. There's no reason why the officials should still be here, not if their only purpose is to investigate the death of a student.

But if they have ulterior motives . . .

Harold steps closer, so silently that Ryan jumps when he starts talking.

“I don't like them,” Harold whispers, his eyes flicking to the door where the officials entered Dr. Franklin's office.

“No one does,” I say.

“They sneak, and they pry, and they're trying to drive us apart.”

I think Harold's on to something, actually. There's coldness in the air now that has nothing to do with the weather. This unit used to be a family, and now no one talks. The Doctor is distant. We all just shuffle from room to room, waiting for the officials to leave so that life can return to normal.

“I don't like them at all,” Harold continues. “They're trying to take you away from me.”

And that's when I realize that Harold isn't talking to us at all. He's talking to his ghosts.

“Still no Sofía in the ghost world?” I ask in a low voice, my heart skipping a beat.

Harold turns to me, his clear, pale eyes eerily wide. “There is no Sofía. Nothing. Just a blank space where she once was.”

I breathe again. Harold can see the dead, but not the past.

Ryan rolls his eyes at Harold. “
Anyway
,” he says, turning back to me, “they need to go, like, yesterday. They've been here almost a month.”

“Dude, it's only been a little over a week.”

Ryan gives me a weird look. “Okay, whatever, time-man.”

“No, but seriously. A week and some days. Not a month.”

“You may want to check your math on that.”

I turn on my heels.

“Dr. Franklin's going to start our session soon!” Gwen calls as I stride back toward my room.

I don't care. Ryan's a jerk, but I don't think he'd play me like that. By my count, the officials have been here just thirteen days. But Ryan looked at me like I was clueless.

I travel
through
time. I don't lose it.

I slam open my bedroom door and head straight to my calendar. I stare at the date.

It's been a month.

How the hell did I lose a month?

Did the officials do this? Dr. Rivers could tell that her regular mind games weren't working on me. Did she find a way to make me lose time?

I shake my head. Ryan's just being a jerk. He's playing a joke. He must have snuck in my room and altered my calendar. I flip through the pages, but each is marked with my special code.

Gwen shows up at my door. “Dr. Franklin told me to get you. Session's starting.”

I follow her, but my mind's focused on my lost time. This has to be a joke. Ryan's messing with me.

“Hey,” Gwen says as she leads me down the hall. “Maybe try not to be too crazy. In front of the officials, I mean. I think they're going to go soon. I don't want to give them an excuse to stick around.”

I nod my head tightly. So don't blow up at Ryan for messing with me. Got it.

We all sit around Dr. Franklin's desk, and Ryan pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. The date flashes on the screen—the same date that's on my calendar, the one that's several weeks off. How did he do that? I didn't even know you could change the date on a cell phone.

“Ryan, put that away. You're only allowed to use your phone after class.”

Ryan crams the phone back in his pocket, but there's a smirk on his face. If he wanted to rattle me, it worked. I just don't get why he's doing this
now
.

I can't even pay attention to what the Doctor's talking about, and within fifteen minutes, he dismisses us. I stand up to leave.

“Bo,” he says, “I just asked you to stay.” He gives me a weird look. I sit back down. The officials are busy recording everything that's happening.

Once Gwen, Harold, and Ryan leave, the Doctor pulls up a chair and sits across from me. “I want to say again,” he says, “Dr. Rivers and Mr. Minh are observers, but it's your right to ask them to leave if you're uncomfortable with them sitting in.”

He's nervous, that much is clear. His eyes widen slightly, glancing to his left, where the officials are sitting. Maybe he knows, subconsciously, that they're doing something to mess with his head.

“It's okay,” I mutter. They'll just find another way to spy on me if I kick them out, and I'd rather have them where I can see them.

“Before we go on, I want to know: Do you have any questions for me?”

I sit up straighter. “Uh, yeah,” I say. “What—uh, what day is it?”

The Doctor shoots me a strange look but tells me the date. The same as the date on my calendar, on Ryan's phone.

It wasn't a joke.

I've lost several weeks of time. The last thing I remember is going to bed the day I texted Phoebe. I stayed up until lights-out reading that book assigned to us in English. And then I
woke up, just like normal, but somehow time has zoomed past me. What the hell happened? The officials are still here, everyone's acting like everything's normal . . . but I've lost
weeks
.

Weeks when I could have been saving Sofía.

Is that it? Is this time's way of punishing me for finding a loophole to see her again? I stole time with her, so time stole some back.

Or maybe the officials did.

“I'm holding you back to discuss your medication,” Dr. Franklin says.

“Medication?”

“I'd like to add a few different scripts,” the Doctor continues. “First, something for your insomnia.”

“I don't have a sleeping problem.”

The Doctor smiles sadly and writes something in his notebook. I lean forward, trying to see it, but I can't.

“It's a neuroleptic,” Dr. Franklin continues, as if I hadn't spoken. “And it's stronger than your previous medication, but still a bit mild compared to others on the market. I need you to keep track of how you feel when you take it, okay? And I want you to continue taking it when you go home for the weekends. Family Day is coming up, and then spring break, and I need you to be responsible and keep up with your medication even when you're at home.”

I nod dumbly. This isn't the first time the Doctor has prescribed pills. Everyone in the group was put on mild antidepressants when they first arrived at the Berk. “To temper your powers until you can control them a little more,” the Doctor had said. And there was other medication: a fever reducer for Gwen, some little green pills for Ryan, an entire handful of stuff
for Harold—though Harold gobbled up the pills eagerly, as if they were candy.

Dr. Rivers stands up and moves behind the Doctor, reading the notes he's written in his book. “I agree, Dr. Franklin,” she says. “These should help Bo considerably.”

I grit my teeth. So. That's what's happened. The officials know that I'm not duped by their illusions, so they're going to drug me.