I cringe. So the government officials have the Doctor so turned around that he’s brought in law enforcement?
“Well, of course something like that isn’t planned,” Mr. Minh’s voice is harsh, cruel. “But regardless, it happened, and we’re trying to ensure it doesn’t happen again. Which, frankly, I’m not sure this school is capable of guaranteeing. I was shocked to see one of your students coming into the school late tonight. How tight of a rein do you have on your students if one can wander off into the marsh at night?”
Well, crap. I didn’t realize they’d seen me too.
The Doctor splutters, but Dr. Rivers cuts him off. “It’s just extraordinarily disappointing that not only were the master files of the video observations you compiled destroyed, but the additional files are missing, and there is apparently no way to replace them.”
“What are you trying so hard to hide, Dr. Franklin?” Mr. Minh shouts. “This level of encumbrance from you makes me question just how much you want to reveal to us at all.”
“My practices have been transparent from the start!” the Doctor shouts back. “And my students are the most important people to me—not you and your damn paperwork!”
“That’s what we want to see,” Dr. Rivers says in a clear, high voice, silencing the men’s argument. “We want you to put your students first. But clearly something here at Berkshire Academy is wrong. That boy came back soaking wet and stinking of the marsh. Why was he allowed outside, alone, at this hour? He could have been a danger to himself or others.”
Is this an allusion to my powers? If so, the Doctor misses it.
Mr. Minh says something indecipherable in a low voice, but whatever it is, it’s obvious from Dr. Franklin’s flustered tone that he’s offended.
I push the door open further. The hinges squeak, cutting through the conversation.
“Bo,” the Doctor says, relieved to see me.
“You told me to come back for a late-night, uh . . .” I start.
“Therapy session,” the Doctor supplies. “I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow morning to discuss this situation.”
Dr. Rivers nods her head, clearly approving of this, but Mr. Minh still scowls. I stare him down as he sidesteps me and they both leave the office.
“That sounded rough,” I say.
Dr. Franklin collapses behind his desk, completely ignoring my comment. “I’m concerned that you’re not progressing,” he says bluntly.
“I—I’m trying, sir,” I say. I stare into his eyes.
I’m trying to save us all, I want to say.
Sofía told me to trust the Doctor. I don’t understand why he’s been cooperating with the officials, but . . .
“You have a Band-Aid,” I say, staring at the Doc’s hand.
He blinks in surprise, then glances down, staring at the Band-Aid wrapped around his left index finger. “I cut myself when I was changing my razor blade,” he says. “Bo, we need to talk about Sofía, about how you’ve stagnated since her death.”
That word—death—guts me. First it came from Gwen, and now the Doc’s acting like Sofía is really gone. But his words sound like buzzing in my head, and all my eyes can focus on is that Band-Aid.
The Doctor can heal. His power is healing. There is nothing in the world that should hurt him enough for him to need a Band-Aid. A razor cut? That should be gone in two seconds. I’ve seen him recover from injuries far more serious than that.
“Bo?” the Doctor says. “Are you listening?”
A test. I’ll test him.
I tell him a joke he told me a month or two ago. He laughs politely, like he’s never heard that joke before in his life.
“Remember when I told you about my pet turtle, Shelly?” I ask. “How my dad accidentally killed him but lied to me about it?” I never told him I had a pet turtle because I never did; I got that from an old sitcom I used to watch at home. But Dr. Franklin nods along as if he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“But let’s talk about Sofía now,” the Doctor says. “I worry that you blame yourself, and you shouldn’t . . .”
He keeps going on, blah, blah, blah, but it’s pointless. This isn’t the Doctor we all know. This Doctor can’t heal—doesn’t know he can heal. This Doctor is treating me like he’s a school counselor, not like an advisor in a school of superpowered kids.
This Doctor has forgotten the way things really are.
Ryan and I really are the only ones left who know the truth.
“I know you don’t fully understand what I’m saying now,” I tell Dr. Franklin, looking him dead in the eye. “But I want you to know that I haven’t given up. Not yet. Not ever.”
The Doctor sighs and sinks into the chair behind his desk. “Is this about Sofía?”
“I can save her,” I say, praying that my words penetrate the fog of illusion that’s clouding the Doctor’s mind. “I can save us all.”