“Bo, I’m not sure you’ve fully processed what happened to Sofía,” Dr. Franklin says. “It’s . . . not about saving her. You can’t save her. You know that, right?”
I rear back violently. “Why would you say that?” I ask. “I can! I will. You just have to trust me. You have to give me a chance.”
“Bo.” The Doctor leaves the desk and stands in front of me, positioning himself between me and the camera. I search his face for answers, but I don’t understand the look he’s giving me. Concern and worry and . . . something else. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something with his eyes, but I’m not Ryan—I can’t peek inside his mind and understand the thoughts he hides there.
“Bo,” he repeats. “You have to understand this. You have to face the truth. Sofía is gone.”
“Not forever,” I protest weakly.
“Forever. She’s gone. She’s dead. You can’t bring her back.”
Bile rises in my throat. I shove Dr. Franklin away so hard that he collides with the desk. The camera shakes unevenly on its mount. I want to scream at him not to give up on me. I know I can still save her. But the word he used—dead—it rattles me. He knows the truth. He knows she’s not dead. He knows she’s stuck in the past. So why would he lie? Is this a test? Does he want to see if I can keep control of my power under stress? My mind churns. What does he want from me?
I don’t realize I’ve started pacing until the Doctor grabs my shoulders to stop me. He gently pries my fingers away from my scalp, where I’d been clutching my hair so hard that a headache is beginning to bubble to the surface. I look down at my hands, at my curling fingers, and I force myself to take a deep breath, to let my muscles relax. That’s my problem—that’s always been my problem. When things go wrong, I freak.
He doesn’t let go of me. His eyes lock on mine until he has my full focus.
“You’re losing control,” he says, the words reverberating through my head.
Control. This has always been about control. And my lack of it.
My eyes fall to the blinking light of the camera on the Doctor’s desk. Before I can ask why he’s recording us, the door to the Doctor’s office opens. Ryan steps inside without looking at us. “Oh,” he says casually when he deigns to notice us. “Want me to wait outside?” He doesn’t move toward the door.
Dr. Franklin steps back from me. “No, it’s fine. It’s almost time to start.”
As Dr. Franklin moves to the other side of his desk, Gwen enters, followed by Harold. We all take our usual seats in a semicircle around the Doc’s desk. Ryan tries to get my attention, but my eyes are glued to the camera. Why is it on? What is the Doctor hoping to capture on film?
The Doctor starts speaking, but I can’t focus on him. It’s clear that today we’re going to be talking about our feelings—about Sofía—rather than about our powers.
A knock at the door interrupts the Doctor before he can get really started. Ms. Temple, the history tutor, peeks her head inside the door. “Your guests have arrived,” she tells the Doctor and then steps back out into the hallway. Dr. Franklin moves immediately to the door, speaking softly to whoever else is out there. Beside me, Gwen grows warm, sparks crackling on her clothing. She’s on edge.
“Told you,” Ryan says under his breath. Harold squeaks nervously.
“Told you what?” I ask Ryan, turning in my seat to face him.
“At breakfast,” Gwen says, her voice low, “he said—”
The office door opens fully, and Dr. Franklin leads two people inside: a white woman with dyed auburn hair frizzy at the ends and a heavyset Asian man. The man has a large, worn briefcase in tan leather that doesn’t match his black suit, and the woman carries a satchel that seems to be weighted heavily with papers.
“This is everyone?” the man asks Dr. Franklin. He nods.
The woman turns to us, holding her arm out, indicating that the Doctor can sit down with his students. It’s strange to see him treated like one of us.
“Hello, all,” the woman says warmly, a bright smile on her face. I give Gwen and Ryan a side-eyed glance. Gwen keeps rubbing her hands together, probably trying to hide the fire crackling under her skin. The Doctor reaches over, patting her back as if to assure her that all is well. Ryan’s jaw is hard, and I think he’s grinding his teeth.
“We hope to get to know each of you over the next few weeks,” the woman continues. Her voice is sticky sweet. I dislike her immediately.
“Why are you here?” Ryan asks aggressively. The Doctor shoots him a look.
“Right now, we’re just going to get to know you,” the woman says, a false smile plastered across her face.
“That’s not an answer,” Gwen says.
“Gwen.” Dr. Franklin’s voice holds a stern, disapproving note.