Harold usually sticks to himself and spends far more time talking to his ghosts than to any of us.
“So.” I press my lips together, my hands twitching with nervous energy. “I mean, so. Sofía, right? It’s my fault she’s gone, and obviously I need to go back and get her, but . . . I can’t. I mean, I’ve tried. I’ve tried a lot. But for some reason, I can’t save her, no matter what I do. And . . .” I swallow, almost unable to continue. “And I’m worried that maybe the reason why I can’t save Sofía is because she’s already too far gone, that I can’t save her because it’s impossible.”
Harold looks at me as if I’m crazy.
“It’s just that, I should be able to go back to exactly where she got stuck in time and pull her out. But . . . I can’t. So maybe the reason why I can’t find her in the timestream anymore is because . . . maybe she’s . . .”
No. Those words can’t be spoken.
“You talk to ghosts, right?” I say finally.
Harold’s eyes shift, unfocused, gazing at something . . . someone . . . only he can see. “The voices speak to me,” he says softly.
Creepy stuff like that is exactly the reason Harold got beat up so much at his old school.
He lets silence fall around us.
“I guess I just wanted to ask . . .”
Harold stares at me intently. Waiting.
“Do you see Sofía?”
There. I said it.
“I don’t always see,” Harold says, his eyes losing focus. “Often, I just hear. Whispers. Regrets. Whispers.”
I lean up on my knees. I want to grab Harold, force him to give me his full attention. “But do you see or hear Sofía?” I ask, my voice rising. “Maybe she’s gone, maybe what I did—” I swallow. “Maybe what I did killed her. And if it did, I know she’d come back. Here. To me. To all of us. Has she . . . do you see her? Do you hear her?”
Harold cocks his head like a cat about to pounce on a bird rustling in the grass. When he speaks, his voice is almost inaudible. “No. She is silent. She is not in the voices. She is just . . . gone.”
I sag in relief. Gone—but not so far gone that I can’t still reach her. She’s not dead. She’s okay. She’s stuck in the past behind some sort of block that’s stopping me from saving her, but she’s still alive.
“Thanks, man,” I say, standing up and smacking Harold on the knee. Harold jerks as if startled out of deep sleep by the touch. I’ll leave him to his ghosts, then. I wander over to the cushions where Gwen is sitting, using a flamethrower on the horde approaching her character on the screen.
“You should be careful what you say,” Gwen mutters, not taking her eyes off the TV.
“Huh?”
Gwen shoots me a look. “The Doctor’s not here, but he is, you know?” Her voice drops an octave. “Watching.” Her eyes flick to the corner where I had just been sitting, talking to Harold.
“I don’t under—”
“There.” Gwen’s eyes linger on the ceiling, on the almost invisible black camera lens that points at exactly the spot where I had just been sitting.
“Why is the Doctor spying on us?” I ask, shifting closer to Gwen. I scan the room and notice at least three more cameras, one in each corner, pointing down on us.
Gwen shrugs. “Don’t know. But he is.”
“It’s been like this for two weeks,” Ryan calls from the table in the center of the room, his attention still on the chess game. “They installed them after the last episode.” His eyes flick to Harold.
Three weeks ago, Harold was possessed by a malevolent spirit he’d been trying to talk into leaving him alone. He attacked Dr. Franklin. The Doc wasn’t hurt, of course—he healed himself in seconds—but I guess the director decided to add more security after that.
To be honest, I’m just relieved that the cameras weren’t installed because of my screw-up.
“It’s probably just a precaution,” I say. I can’t help but wonder, though, how the director expects cameras to keep us safe.
“Sure,” Ryan says, his tone flat. “Yeah, that’s probably all it is.”
CHAPTER 11
Sunday.
The last day of the weekend. Tomorrow, classes start again. And next weekend, I’m stuck going to my parents’ house. I have to make today count.
All right, fine, let’s approach this scientifically. I grab my notebook from my desk and make a list:
What I’ve Done Already:
? Tried to go into the past where Sofía is. Can’t get there. Utterly blocked. Powers don’t work.
? Tried to go to a few minutes before I sent Sofía to the past to stop myself. Didn’t work. Timestream blocks me from my own timeline.
? Tried to go into the past and warn Sofía not to go with me to the 1600s. Can’t get there.
Underneath the pitiful list, I add in big, bold, underlined letters: INTENT MATTERS.
Now let’s try something completely different: