When I wake up in the morning, it takes me a second to remember where I am. That I’m in the bedroom where I spent most of my life.
That’s the weird thing about being at home. Because this is still, technically, my home. If someone asks where I live, I give this address, not Berkshire’s—even though I spend more time at the Berk. The toothbrush I like best is at the academy. I have another one here, but it’s stiff and tastes gross. I have the same shampoo brand in this bathroom as the one in Berkshire, but it’s fuller here, and older, and there’s a crusty rim around the opening where the shampoo comes out.
And I actually have a door at the Berk.
How can this be my home when I’m treated like some sort of criminal here?
I pick the pants I wore yesterday up off the floor and pull them on. Something hard and sharp in the pocket pokes my leg, and I withdraw the smashed USB drive. I start to toss it into the trash can, but I hesitate.
Only the plastic casing was destroyed; the actual drive looks intact, which means I could watch the videos if I wanted to.
It’s just footage of our sessions with the Doctor. No big deal.
Except . . .
It’s footage of Sofía too.
Seeing her on-screen won’t be the same as seeing her in person, but it’s better than nothing. I open my laptop and jam the rectangular end of the drive into the port. Just as I’d hoped, it still works. Folders, each labeled by month, pop up on my screen. All our sessions with the Doc. All those days sitting beside Sofía.
I select one of the early ones at random, and the video starts playing immediately. At first, there’s nothing but an empty room on the screen. No—not empty. The Doctor’s at his desk, so still that for a moment I don’t notice him at all. His brow is furrowed and his eyes downcast. His hands are clasped in front of his face, his knuckles ashy. He looks as if he’s contemplating something . . . dark. He seems almost . . . afraid.
The door opens, and the students stream in—Ryan and Gwen first, then Harold, his eyes darting. I watch myself stroll into the room, cocky.
Then she walks in.
Her footsteps are graceful, like a dancer’s, toe first and fluidity up her legs. But there’s a bashful nature to her movements as well, a hesitating grace, as if she doesn’t believe anyone would ever look at her even when she’s visible. The me on the video screen looks back and smiles at her, and she almost fades away, barely holding on to her opaqueness.
Dr. Franklin has, as usual, set up the chairs in a semicircle around his desk. Harold sits between Ryan and me, and Gwen and Sofía sit next to each other, Gwen pulling her seat closer to Sofía and away from the Doctor. The arrangement has Sofía and me together, as I had hoped we would be.
The session I’m watching wasn’t long before our first date. We were still trying to figure out what we meant to one another. I knew exactly how I felt about Sofía, but I also knew that she was . . . scared.
Not that I understood it then. I was so busy looking at her that I never really saw her. At the time, I had just thought Sofía was shy. But now, through my laptop screen, I can see something else, something beyond the surface, something wrong.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to the Sofía on-screen.
I watch the past version of myself shift in my seat, angling my body closer to Sofía’s. I let my hand drop, making a point to brush my fingers against the back of her hand. Sofía jumps and snatches her hand away.
I close my eyes, remembering that moment, the way she faded into invisibility, a transparent blush creeping across her skin.
When I open my eyes, though, Sofía’s still on the screen, her long hair hiding her still very visible face.
That’s not right.
This was the day the Doctor started talking about the history of powered people. I pause the video, forcing myself to recall the exact discussion. Dr. Franklin told us all about famous people in history who had powers. Van Gogh could see auras around people and knew when they were lying or telling the truth. Tesla could control electricity with his hands. Abraham Lincoln was something the Doctor called an “audiopath”—if you could hear his voice, he could alter your mindset and make you agree with whatever he was saying, sort of like hypnotism.
This had been one of the first times the Doctor talked about powers directly, explaining that we could be among the greats. It was the first time I started to truly accept myself and what I could do. It was the first time I started to believe that my powers mattered.