Ryan snorts. “I bet I could make her do it.”
“Why?” The Doctor is trying very hard to keep his face straight, to be the kind, patient listener, but I can see there’s disgust in his eyes.
“It’d be fun,” Ryan says. “To see what I could do. To make them all fail. If I had a lighter, I’d give it to Gwen right now, and I’d make the little pyro burn this whole school down.”
“You could cause serious damage, Ryan. Your lies and manipulation aren’t just words. People could get hurt, even die.”
Ryan shrugs.
Dr. Franklin leans over, moving his face so that he meets Ryan’s gaze. “Ryan,” he says in a very serious tone, “your manipulation seriously concerns me. I need to know that you understand the difference between right and wrong.”
He talks for a while more, but my eyes are glued on Ryan’s face. This is not a side of him I’ve ever seen before. Or have I?
“Do you?” Dr. Franklin asks him.
“Do I what?” Ryan’s eyes shift to the wall, as if the wood grain holds more entertainment than this conversation.
“Do you understand what I’m saying? Do you feel like you know the difference between right and wrong?”
“Yeah,” Ryan says, pushing up from his chair and heading to the door. “Of course I do.”
But there’s a difference between knowing what’s right and wrong and actually acting on it.
The Doctor stares at the door for a long moment, and he looks torn about whether or not to chase Ryan down. In the end, he gets up and moves toward the video recorder, about to turn it off. For a moment, I see the Doctor’s face close up. This had been an evening session, just before a weekend, and Dr. Franklin carries the weight of the entire week on his face. There is so much about these videos that’s fake—everything that happened in them, really—but that look on his face, that’s real. His eyes are still on the door, but I can see the crinkles in the corner, the way his brow furrows down, the cracks in his usual cheerful facade. He’s showing exhaustion—a moment of defeat. He reaches for the door, his mouth already opening to call Ryan back.
Before he can, though, the door opens. His face tightens with anxiety as he turns, expecting to see one of us again. Instead, it’s the unit leaders for the rest of the school, as well as a few of the teachers. Ms. Grantham is carrying a plate of cupcakes, and Mr. Glover has three bottles of wine in his arms, and the rest of the unit leaders burst inside, all singing “Happy Birthday” to him.
I had no idea that day had been the Doc’s birthday. From the look on his face, it seems like the Doctor himself didn’t realize it. But it’s kind of nice to see all that worry melt away as he blows out a candle on the biggest cupcake.
The other unit leaders spread out in the chairs we’d been sitting in. It’s so weird to see the leaders acting like . . . I don’t know, like people. I’m used to them bossing us around, not laughing and joking and smushing cupcakes in their mouths and getting a little tipsy on wine.
The party doesn’t last long, but Ms. Grantham is the last to leave. She lingers on purpose, finding excuses to clean up dropped napkins from the floor or help put away the chairs, until she’s the last person in the room. Dr. Franklin looks at her, and there’s a question and there’s hope drawing them closer, wrapping around them like strings. Before they do anything, though, Dr. Franklin reaches over and cuts off the video feed.
CHAPTER 46
Phoebe
I’m half-asleep when someone knocks on my door. “Yeah?” I call.
Mom steps inside, holding two letters. “Mail!” she says brightly as she tosses one of them to me. It’s from James Jefferson High; inside are details for the class trip to Europe this summer.
“What’s that?” I ask, looking at the open letter still in Mom’s hand. The Berkshire Academy for Children with Exceptional Needs logo is emblazoned across the top.
“Bo’s school wrote us a letter,” Mom starts.
“Is he in trouble?”
She shakes her head and passes the letter over to me. I get the impression that this whole “mail call” thing was just an excuse to show me the letter. I read quickly. The first page is a cut-and-paste form letter that was probably mailed out to every family. I already know most of it—that a girl from his class, Sofía Muniz, committed suicide. That government officials have been observing the students, and that the board will be voting to determine the school’s future in a few weeks. Parents are invited to give their opinions by phone or email.
The second page includes a personal note from Dr. Franklin, describing how the situation with the officials and the investigation affect Bo specifically. He warns us that Bo’s therapy isn’t working as well as he’d hoped, that he’s changing his meds again, that Bo may have to be transferred to a new facility regardless of the school’s fate.