I haven’t stopped time—I’ve just slowed it to a crawl.
This is my chance. The timestream is working for me for once, helping me to get closer to Dr. Franklin and Phoebe without them noticing. I must be moving like a hummingbird from their perspective, barely visible as I scoot around the slow-motion bodies of the people between my sister and me. Even so, I try to avoid their direct line of sight, moving quickly to the shadows at the edge of the room and creeping forward in bursts.
When I’m close enough, I close my eyes and release my grip on time. A sound like all the air in the room being sucked away fills my ears, but everyone around me acts and moves and talks normally again. Ryan looks around, surprised at my disappearance, but he shrugs and makes his way to the stairs on his own.
“I know I’m here at Berkshire Academy, and I work with your brother, but in situations like these . . .” Dr. Franklin’s voice trails off. “I don’t just help Bo. I’m here for you too.”
Phoebe sort of shrugs, flipping her phone over and over in her hand. “I don’t need help,” she says.
“It’s not easy living with someone who has special needs, like your brother. Sometimes it can feel as if you’re overshadowed,” Dr. Franklin says.
Well, that’s entirely untrue. I may have powers, but Phoebe’s the special one to my parents. A total daddy’s girl, with straight As and a mile-long list of extracurriculars. Phoebe has designed her whole life to make people love her, from our parents to college admissions officers. Nothing I ever do comes close to competing with the perfection of Phoebe.
“I’ve been speaking with your mother on the phone, and she wanted us to have a moment to sit down and talk,” the Doctor continues.
She puts her phone in her pocket. “I don’t really know what to talk about.”
“Let’s go to my office,” Dr. Franklin says. He turns a little, just enough to make eye contact with me, to let me know that he knows I’m there. “Where it’s more private.”
He touches her elbow and leads her up the stairs, beyond my reach.
CHAPTER 38
Phoebe
Dr. Franklin sits behind his desk, his dark face slightly illuminated by the glow of the computer screen in front of him.
“So, Phoebe, your mom wanted me to talk to you for a bit.” He leans forward, holding his palms together and pressing his lips against his index fingers.
“About Bo?” Even I’m surprised by the antagonism in my voice. Of course he wants to talk about Bo.
“About whatever you feel like talking about.”
I try not to roll my eyes. I don’t know how Bo can stand it here. I hate the mere concept of therapy. What’s with people who think you can talk your way out of any problem? Some problems are bigger than words. And some problems don’t need to be discussed at all.
“Why don’t you tell me about school?” Dr. Franklin suggests.
I shrug. “It’s school.”
“What are your best subjects? You’re a junior, right? Do you have your eye on any colleges?”
I force a smile on my face. I hate that everyone asks me this. “I don’t care where I go, as long as they have a good study-abroad program.”
“So you want to travel?”
“I want to escape.” I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth.
Thankfully, Dr. Franklin doesn’t say anything more about it. Instead, he moves on to a new subject. “How is school different for you now than when Bo was at James Jefferson High?”
I shrug again. “It’s not, really. We had different classes. We were in different grades. Most people didn’t even know we were related.” The most time we spent together was when he’d drive me to school when I was a freshman—a condition of his having his own car. After he wrecked the car and I got my own driver’s license, we didn’t even have that connection.
“You two are very different,” Dr. Franklin concedes. “But I think, in some ways, you’re pretty similar. You’re both very guarded, for example.”
I keep my face from scowling. I hate that Mom set me up for this awkward conversation, and I wish Dr. Franklin would just get to the point, whatever that may be.
“How about at home?” Dr. Franklin presses. “Are things good there?”
“They’re quieter,” I concede. Except when they’re not. Like when Dad takes away Bo’s door.
“Quieter?”
“Since Bo’s been gone.”
Dr. Franklin, sensing potential, leans in. “In what ways?”
I let my eyes drift from Dr. Franklin. It’s easier to talk when I look above him, at the burgundy-and-cream valances draped over the windows that overlook the ocean.
“Bo was a lot angrier before he came here,” I say. “I don’t know if even he realized it. He always seems like two people to me; most of the time he’s really chill, but if one little thing goes wrong, it’s like he loses control.”