“Are those your grandmother’s earrings?” There’s a hint of accusation in her voice.
I nod.
“Phoebe,” she says, leveling me with a look, “those are for special occasions only.”
“They don’t have to be,” I say.
She purses her lips at me.
“They’re mine,” I say.
“Go.” She points up the stairs.
There’s no point arguing. I trudge upstairs, taking the earrings out and leaving them in the blue velvet box in my room.
Mom has been strict about the “special occasion” rule since Grandma gave the earrings to me. The only time I’ve ever worn them was at her funeral.
CHAPTER 31
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.