What?
I do another quick scan of the room; all eyes are on Harold.
Remember when we were kids? I text. Remember the Titanic?
I watch the waiting icon on my screen, not daring to breathe. If Phoebe remembers going back to the Titanic with me, she’ll confirm everything: my powers, the true purpose of Berkshire, the altered videos.
Yeah, she texts back, ofc.
Of course. Of course she remembers.
That’s how I broke my arm, she adds, the words popping up on the screen. But it was cool.
I breathe a sigh of relief. It was real. Whatever—whoever—is altering everyone’s perception of reality . . . it’s centered here, at the academy.
When I look up from my phone, the room is silent. Harold’s rambling had stopped without my noticing, and the government officials’ eyes are glued on me. Dr. Rivers glares at me, and I shudder under her intense look.
“Bo, put away your phone,” the Doctor says. “You know better.”
I start to click the screen off, but I can’t get over the weird way Dr. Rivers is staring at me. Just before my phone darkens, I glance down at the message. Phoebe’s words, But it was cool, fade. I blink. Before my eyes, they change: But it was just a game.
“No,” I gasp, staring down at the altered text.
“Bo,” Dr. Franklin says again, a note of warning in his voice. “Your phone.”
Dr. Rivers is still staring at me, her eyes dark and unfocused. When I shove my phone in my pocket, I can’t help but notice the way she smirks at me.
? ? ?
I yank out my cell phone the second the Doctor dismisses us. I stare at that last word from Phoebe, game. Is it my cell phone that’s showing me a false message, or did Phoebe change somehow? If I were to go to her right now, would she remember the Titanic, or would she think we were playing pretend?
“I’m glad to see you’ve recovered after your late-night wanderings,” Dr. Rivers says, stepping beside me.
I cram my phone back in my pocket. “What are you doing?” I growl.
“Mr. Minh and I will be observing your classes today,” she says sweetly, holding the classroom door open for the rest of the unit and me. Her eyes mock me; she knows very well what I meant.
The officials sit in the back of the classroom as Ms. Okafor teaches us math. They watch silently as Mr. Ingle passes out copies of The Catcher in the Rye for us to read. My eyes skim across the page.
I glance over at Gwen. She’s already on chapter two of the book. I turn the page, even though I have no idea what’s written on it.
My phone weighs heavily in my pocket. I hate the idea of the officials doing something to mess with Phoebe’s head. I hope it was just the text that changed and not her. I never wanted to drag my family into this.
CHAPTER 32
The next morning, the officials are in Dr. Franklin’s office with the door closed. Even though it’s time for our session to start, we’re stuck in the hallway, waiting.
“How much longer are they going to be here?” Ryan asks.
“Why don’t they just go?” My voice holds more anger than I’d intended, but I don’t really care.
Ryan shrugs. “They have no evidence, no videos, and no one’s said anything. Sofía’s dead, mystery solved, go home.”
My stomach aches at how easily Ryan mentions Sofía’s death, even though I know he knows it’s not real. But he’s right. There’s no reason why the officials should still be here, not if their only purpose is to investigate the death of a student.
But if they have ulterior motives . . .
Harold steps closer, so silently that Ryan jumps when he starts talking.
“I don’t like them,” Harold whispers, his eyes flicking to the door where the officials entered Dr. Franklin’s office.
“No one does,” I say.
“They sneak, and they pry, and they’re trying to drive us apart.”
I think Harold’s on to something, actually. There’s coldness in the air now that has nothing to do with the weather. This unit used to be a family, and now no one talks. The Doctor is distant. We all just shuffle from room to room, waiting for the officials to leave so that life can return to normal.
“I don’t like them at all,” Harold continues. “They’re trying to take you away from me.”
And that’s when I realize that Harold isn’t talking to us at all. He’s talking to his ghosts.
“Still no Sofía in the ghost world?” I ask in a low voice, my heart skipping a beat.
Harold turns to me, his clear, pale eyes eerily wide. “There is no Sofía. Nothing. Just a blank space where she once was.”
I breathe again. Harold can see the dead, but not the past.
Ryan rolls his eyes at Harold. “Anyway,” he says, turning back to me, “they need to go, like, yesterday. They’ve been here almost a month.”
“Dude, it’s only been a little over a week.”
Ryan gives me a weird look. “Okay, whatever, time-man.”
“No, but seriously. A week and some days. Not a month.”
“You may want to check your math on that.”