The entire world around me dances in light and heat.
“COME ON!” Dr. Franklin shouts, and I race down the stairs. He pushes me through the massive front door. One of the other unit leaders, Ms. Grantham, stops me from falling, and she doesn’t let go of my wrist, pulling me down after her with a viselike grip on my arm. “Go to your unit,” she yells at me when we reach the driveway, already running toward her own cluster of students, who’ve gathered in their designated fire area.
I run to Gwen and Ryan, still choking from the burnt air. Smoke billows from the windows and open doors, just like in the house where I saw Sofía trapped when I was falling through time.
That never happened, my brain tells me, but I don’t believe it.
Gwen clutches her arms around her chest as tears stream down her face, her mouth gulping at air. Ryan grabs my arm as soon as he’s close enough and pulls me to the side.
“Don’t you dare tell one damn person what just happened,” he snarls at me.
“About the fire?” I say stupidly, not sure how to react to his vicious tone.
“Don’t be a dumbass,” Ryan says, his voice still low and menacing. “I don’t care how much of a schizo freak you are, don’t you dare even think of telling anyone what we did. You hear me? We didn’t do anything.” His hand squeezes tighter around my arm.
Behind me, the walls of Berkshire howl like wolves, baying to the flames rather than the moon.
Dr. Franklin rushes up to us. “Have any of you seen Harold?” he asks, breathless, panic in his voice.
And that’s when I understand what Ryan meant.
We left Harold. We left him locked in the closet.
To die.
CHAPTER 61
Ryan drops my arm, and the blood tingles back to my fingers. Immediately, my hand goes to my pocket, to the old iron key that rests inside it. I don’t pull it out, but I feel it, and I know that Harold’s salvation lies in the palm of my hand.
I didn’t even think of him.
I let him die. Ryan locked him inside, but I could have unlocked the door. I could have freed him. But I didn’t. Because I forgot. Because I’m that selfish. Because in the end, when the flames licked at my heels, I thought of only my own escape.
I drop to my knees, staring up at the burning building. I can hear sirens blaring down the island—the fire trucks are coming.
It’s too late. I passed the library. I saw the wooden walls catch flame. The room is filled with old books, musty tomes of paper that will ignite with just a spark.
There’s movement by the big front door, still wide open though all the students—all but Harold—are safe outside.
A boy stands there, steaming. His body is drenched in water, but the fire sizzles on his skin, wrapping him in misty clouds. But I can still tell who it is. Carlos Estrada.
“No,” I whisper.
He nods. Yes.
If I’m seeing Carlos, then maybe all hope is not lost. Carlos comes from another time, slipping from the pool that killed him through the timestream to me. He is proof that the timestream is real, that my powers are real. I stand up shakily, the iron key in my fist. I stare, hard, at the burning walls of the academy.
Ryan sees the key in my hand. He grabs my arm and spins me around. “Don’t even think about telling on me,” he growls.
I slam my fist right in his face.
For a moment, I allow myself to feel deep satisfaction at the way that his nose crunches. I hadn’t planned it, but the fist that struck him still held the iron key inside, and blood streams down his cheek from where the metal cut him. Ryan staggers back, clutching his nose, too shocked to speak. Gwen’s sobbing stops as she stares at us.
I ignore them both—I ignore everything: the Doctor rushing to Ryan’s aid, the scared cries and whispers of the other students gathered on the lawn, the shouts of teachers to remain calm and to stay put—and turn back to the building.
Fire doesn’t melt bricks, but it’s melting Ryan’s illusion. It falls away like ash, and Berkshire is far clearer than I’ve ever seen it before. Everything’s clearer. Dr. Franklin and Gwen and Ryan look more real, like the difference between a photograph and an actual person. I look down at myself, holding my hands out in front of me. I look more real.
And so does the iron key.
There’s a thread connecting the key all the way into the academy. Just like the threads of fate that make up the timestream. I touch the thread gently, and it’s hot, burning my fingertips. But in that moment of connection, I also see, for just a flash, Harold. His body is slumped inside the closet, one arm still raised as if beating against the door, but it’s motionless. He’s entirely still. His eyes don’t even blink as the smoke swirls around him.
For as long as I’ve had my power, for as much as I’ve tried to understand it, I’ve considered some laws unchangeable. There are moments in time that I cannot prevent. I could no sooner change Harold’s fate than I could change the sinking of the Titanic. That is the rule of time.