A World Without You

“Exactly, you idiot. If it closes, I’m off to military school, and who knows what they’ll do with you. I actually like this place. I’m not going to let them mess it all up just because of what happened to Sofía.”


“I know,” I say, turning my full attention to him. “If I could just save her, they would have to go.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen.” Ryan’s distracted, his voice dismissing my words.

“What”—I take a deep breath—“are you saying?”

Something in my voice causes Ryan to pause, and when he turns toward me again, there’s something unrecognizable in his eyes. Is it fear? “Sorry, dude, I mean, I’m sure you can save her, it’s just . . .” He struggles for words.

I release my breath. “Nah, man, I get it. My powers are out of whack. I just thought . . . I thought maybe the officials were somehow getting to you too. Everyone’s been so different since they arrived . . .”

Ryan smirks. “They’re not getting to me,” he says. “I’m in full control.” He turns again, eyeing a huddle of teachers clustered near the door, their heads bent close together, whispering.

“Full control of what?” Gwen’s voice is pitched lower than normal as she approaches us. She shoves herself beside me, using her body to force me to take a step away from Ryan. “What are you talking about?” she says aggressively.

“Nothing. Move along.” Ryan waves his hand, dismissing her.

Gwen turns to me. “Bo,” she says, her voice much softer. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” I say.

“What’s Ryan been telling you?”

“Nothing,” I say.

Her frown deepens. Past her shoulder, I can see Ryan’s face is turning angry. He’s never really liked Gwen, and the way she interrupted him . . . he’s not a very patient guy.

“Look, Gwen,” I say, pulling her aside. “Everything’s going to be okay. I know Ryan’s not your favorite, but I have to work with him right now—”

“Why?” Her voice slices through my words like a knife. “Why do you have to work with that asshole? You know he’s just using you, right? I don’t know how or why, but that’s all Ryan does—he uses people.”

“Now that’s not very nice,” Ryan says. His voice is idle, almost bored, but it doesn’t mask the fury building behind his eyes.

“Well, it’s true,” Gwen snaps, not bothering to turn around and look at him. “Bo, whatever he’s trying to drag you into—”

“Gwen, it’s okay,” I say, trying to placate her. Some of the teachers near the door are looking our way. “Look, I know you don’t understand what’s going on. It’s not your fault. The officials—”

“God, there’s not some weird conspiracy against you!” Gwen’s voice is growing desperate. “The officials aren’t doing anything but investigating Sofía’s death.”

“And trying to shut down this school,” Ryan growls.

“Well, maybe it should be shut down!”

The teachers by the door shoot Gwen a look. It’s Family Day. There are people watching. Gwen nods at them so they don’t try to separate us, and she continues in a lower voice, “Maybe if the Doctor had a better idea of what’s going on, maybe if he was more willing to drug us up or whatever, maybe Sofía wouldn’t have died.”

Gwen can’t help that she doesn’t understand. She’s too deep in the officials’ illusion.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I know you don’t understand, but we’re going to make it all okay.”

“You’re not,” Gwen says bluntly. “And the school will shut down anyway.”

“I will not let that happen,” Ryan says in a fierce, low voice. Behind him, a painting of Berkshire Academy when it first opened trembles on the wall. He can’t control his telepathy when he’s emotional.

“Whatever.” Gwen glares at him, and when she turns to face me, the sympathy in her eyes from before is gone, replaced by anger and impatience. “I tried. There’s no getting through to you.”

She storms off, heading in the direction of her mom. And even though Gwen’s forgotten about her powers, I see sparks trickling from her balled-up fists.

“So the first thing we have to do,” Ryan says, “is confirm that all records are destroyed. If Gwen’s right and the school is definitely doomed, at least we can make sure that we’re not sent somewhere worse.”

I see movement at the top of the stairs. I jerk my head around, expecting to see Phoebe, but instead, at the top of the landing is a soaking wet boy staring at me through clumps of dripping hair. “Be right back,” I tell Ryan. Ignoring his protests, I creep up the stairs toward the drowned Carlos Estrada. I move slowly, as if I were approaching a deer in the wild.

“Hey,” I say in a low voice.

Carlos Estrada doesn’t move, but his red-rimmed eyes flick to me.

“Why . . . why are you here? Why am I seeing you?”

Carlos opens his mouth. Water pours from it, and he makes a gurgling sound.

“Do you know . . . can you speak to Sofía?” I ask.

And then he’s gone.

“Who are you talking to?” a small voice says from the top step.

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