A World Without You (28 page)

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.

But I don't care about the rules anymore.

I wrap my hand around the thread connecting Harold to the key. It burns like hot wire melting through my palm, slicing open the thin skin between my thumb and forefinger. I grit my teeth and wrap tighter, pulling it, straining against time itself, begging the universe for the power to finally make a change to the pattern of history.

Even though it feels as if the thread has maimed my hand, when I blink, I can tell that this is an injury no one else can see. Ryan's still clutching his face, and the Doctor's shouting into a phone that there's a kid inside the building. Gwen's watching me, a slight frown on her face. She can't see the thread. She can't see how close I am to breaking it.

With a mighty heave, I
pull
.

The thread snaps.

And now time itself can be altered.

I don't waste a second. I move like a puppet master, grabbing
handfuls of threads from the timestream, sifting them through my fingers. I know exactly where I need to go, because I have already been there.

I go back to a few weeks ago. There's a past version of me sitting in front of the old Salem ruins. It's starting to piss rain, the clouds dense and dark. And Harold—still alive, still well—is walking up the path toward me.

Before he rounds the corner, I step in front of him. In moments, he's going to go to the ruined brick fireplace and talk to me about darkness and voices, and then we're going to go back to the academy together. But first, I stop him here.

“I want you to have this,” I tell him, handing him the iron key.

Harold looks at me in surprise, but he accepts it.

“Keep it with you all the time,” I say. “You are definitely going to need it in the future.”

He keeps his head down, staring at it. His fingers wrap around the metal, and he starts to lift his head to speak to me, but I'm already gone.

I'm back in the present, in front of the fire, my eyes on the door. Carlos Estrada is no longer in front of me, framed by the flames. Instead, it's Harold staggering through the smoke, coughing, the iron key in his hand.

I saved him.

I went back in time. I gave him the key.
I saved him.

My power is
real
.

“Harold!” Dr. Franklin yells, abandoning Ryan so abruptly that he drops to the ground. The Doctor falls to his knees in front of Harold, clutching his shoulders, running his hands along his sides, looking for injuries. One of the teachers—the science tutor, Mr. Glover—passes over a bottle of water, and Harold chugs it, sputtering through a sore throat.

“Where were you?” the Doctor says over and over.

“I was locked in the book closet in the library,” Harold says in a weak voice. He raises his arm, pointing to Ryan. “
He
left me there.”

“How'd you get out?” Mr. Glover asks.

Harold shrugs. “That lock was really old, and I guess with the heat, it sort of snapped. I'm sorry, I totally broke it.”

The Doctor sob-laughs in relief and hugs Harold tightly.

I creep closer, searching Harold's eyes. Does he really not remember using the key I gave him? Or is he pretending not to know because he still doubts the Doctor, as I do?

I look at his hand.

No key.

Above us, the windows burst, shooting out shards of glass followed by bright red-orange flames. Several students on the ground scream and dash even farther away.

“Where are the damn fire trucks?” Mr. Glover asks Dr. Franklin.

One of the windows that broke was to Sofía's room. And while I don't see Sofía's face, I see the outline of a girl in flames. An invisible girl, trapped in the fire.

I move forward without thinking.

The illusory world Ryan created—the one where he made me think I was crazy, that Berkshire Academy was for kids with special needs instead of kids with special powers, that Sofía was dead—has broken away. The fact that Harold is still alive proves that.

As I walk closer to the burning academy, I bring up the timestream. It comes to me easily. All those stutters before, they were all just growing pains. I'm in control now. I understand now. This is not something I need to fear.

The power is mine for the taking.

It washes over me in a glorious wave. I have never been in such control before. I have never felt the power this way. I finally have
complete
control. The power courses inside my body, filling me with a firm knowledge:
I can change time. I can bend it to my will. I am its master.

The timestream is tantalizingly in my reach, and I can see with perfect clarity exactly how every thread is placed, how every moment in history rests within the palm of my hand.

And I know. I can change it all.

The image of Sofía in the window—I know it was her, I
know
it—it's a sign. I can go back. I can go back to before she went missing in time, before my powers crumbled, before Ryan could manipulate them and me. With this power, I can stop tragedies long before they happen. I can save not only Sofía, but also the Doctor and Berkshire. I can save Ryan from himself. I can bring it all back to the way it was before.

I don't see everything laid out in front of me in chronological order, but that doesn't matter. I can see the first step. And the first step is to go to that image in the window—to the outline of the girl I know is Sofía—who's waiting for me on the second floor of the academy despite the fire, despite the mess I've made of the present.

“Bo?” Dr. Franklin's voice calls out. “Bo!”

I glance behind me just in time to see the Doctor running for me, one arm outstretched. He's still in Ryan's control, still believes he's just my doctor, not my mentor and teacher in understanding my powers. He wants to hold me back. He wants to stop me.

I put my hand up, palm flat.

Time stops.

The Doctor is launching toward me. His frozen face is full of fear and anguish.

I turn back to the academy. The flames look somewhat paler now, but they still move ever so slightly. Or maybe it's just
my perception that they're moving as I walk closer and closer to the burning building—I can't tell. The light flickers in and out, playing peekaboo with my eyes.

I mount each step slowly. Even though everything is stopped, I can still feel the heat radiating from the fire.

A moment of fear seizes me, and my control falters. For just a second, the flames lick out and the smoke engulfs me, and I choke.

But then I see the girl in the flames, her shape perfectly cut out of the raging fire, and I am in utter control again. Time is stopped, ready to serve my whim.

The timestream stretches out before me, but I am only looking for one specific thread. The red thread, the one that connects me to Sofía.

And there it is.
Leading me through the burning academy.

Clouds of smoke obscure my vision, and I blow, watching as they gently disperse.

It's strange to see the static fire, caught in the process of eating the school like a voracious monster. The crisp black edges of the wallpaper and carpet and wood paneling glow red. The flames lick out from all around, impossibly slow, as if they're inviting me to dance.

I can't help myself—I reach out and scoop a tiny ball of flame from the wall by the door. It has no weight at all; it glows in my palm. It's almost like a hollow shell of light, the orange-red wisp curling around nothing.

“BO!” a voice shouts through the silence.

Several things happen at once. A roar fills my ears, crackling and popping, the timbers overhead creaking as the fire comes alive once more. The smoke billows around me, cascading over
my body, and the tiny ball of flame I held in my hand scorches my skin, blisters bubbling up across my palm. I scream in pain. My hand is not empty—it holds the iron key that I went back in time to give to Harold, but now that key is red hot and branding my palm. I cry out, dropping the key to the floor.

How did it get in my hand?

The Doctor runs up the outside steps toward me.

“Bo!” He screams my name again. “What are you doing? Come back!”

I retreat further into the fire. The Doc stops—not because I've stopped time, but because he's afraid of chasing me deeper into danger. His eyes are wide and filled with terror.

“I can control this,” I say, my voice just loud enough over the sound of the fire. “Go back to the others. I can handle it.”

“Bo.” His voice is sobbing now. “Bo, you're sick. You can't see reality. The building is on
fire
. Please, please come back.”

The burn on my hand aches and stings, but I shake my head. “You don't understand,” I shout, backing further into the foyer. “I have control now. I can go back. I can change it all. I can stop this from ever happening.”

“This is suicide!”

His words make me pause. Suicide? This has nothing to do with that. This is about
saving
everyone. I can't die.

I'm in control. I know what I'm doing.

I'm going back to Sofía.

“Bo, please!” the Doctor shouts. “Come back out! This isn't the answer! You
will
die in there!”

The pain in my hand is sharper than any I've ever felt before, but it hadn't burned when I held the fire, only when the Doctor pulled me from the timestream.

“It's okay!” I shout back at him. “I know what I'm doing!”

Before he can protest again, I stop time. I need to stop the burning. The pain in my hand instantly goes away, and the flames slow to a wavering dance. The Doctor freezes, his raised arms immobile, reaching for me.

I turn away from him. Away from the exit.

• • •

I make it to the second floor quickly, but I have to hop over a part of the stairs that's been damaged by the flames. The hallway for our unit is in worse shape than any other area, which isn't much of a surprise, since the fire started in Sofía's room. I creep forward, careful to avoid the giant flames that swirl up the wall, creating a beautiful pattern of destruction. I want to touch them, to hold fire in my hand the way Gwen does, but I worry that when I restart time, it will burn me like it did before. So I'm careful.

I see wet footprints on the carpet.

I tread over them, fitting my feet into the tiny prints. Carlos is leading the way for me, showing me the path I should take.

I wonder why Carlos has become this touchstone between Sofía and me, the guide leading me to my full powers. I know why he was important to Sofía: He was the first person she ever saw die. Death leaves a mark.

Maybe that's why Sofía's important to me.

Time erupts around me with a violent roar, the flames shooting out, the heat and smoke choking me. I drop to my knees. “No!” I shout to the fire. “NO! I have control!”

The flames mock me.

Through the haze, I see the flicker of an outline of a girl, running across the hall into Dr. Franklin's office.

I don't have control anymore.

But I can have Sofía.

I bend my head, pushing further into the fire. It's hard to breathe. The smoke burns, the air burns, my lungs burn. I stumble forward, my arm over my nose and mouth. My hair feels hot on my head; my clothes feel as if they are made of embers.

Just a little further.

A little further.