knees, trying to catch my breath.
My powers have been more and more erratic since SofÃa disappeared, but theyâve never brought me back here, to this moment. And Iâve tried. Iâve tried to get back so many times.
I gather myself, breathing in the crisp morning air. I may not have meant to snap back to this time, but that doesnât mean I canât use it.
On the day SofÃa disappeared, I had gone for a walk by myself. I went north to the gate on the boardwalk and then turned around and was heading back to the school. But I veered closer to the beach and went past the old camp ruins. Theyâre state-owned property, and weâre not supposed to hang out there. But that day I ignored the Doctorâs rules.
I look around and then up. Youâd be surprised how adept you get at using the sun to tell time when you never know when and where youâre going to end up. Judging from the position of thesun, I figure that the past me, the me on a walk about to meet SofÃa and screw up her life, is probably near the polio camp ruins.
The abandoned camp is left over from the days before vaccinations, when the sick had to be quarantined. It was built in the â50s for people with polio, but it remained open through the â80s. Now, after years of neglect, itâs just a bunch of rotted wooden buildings that look like a haunted summer camp. Berkshire was built when the camp closed, and no one bothers to maintain the abandoned buildings.
I still donât know why I went there that day . . . but I did.
And thatâs where I saw SofÃa.
To be accurate, I saw her shoes first. Bright red, perched on the edge of the remains of a shallow swimming pool at the center of a circle of broken-down buildings. Itâs nothing but a concrete depression now, no water or anything, and Ryan keeps talking about how it should be turned into a skate ramp, but Dr. Franklin says thatâs disrespectful.
She was just sitting there, her legs dangling over the edge.
âHey,â I said.
SofÃa didnât respond.
I walked over and sat down next to her, her red shoes between us. It seemed strange that sheâd taken her shoes off. The morning was cold, the dew on the blades of grass frozen like crystals. It was no longer quite winter but close enough. I guess SofÃa was in denial about the weather.
âWhatâs up?â I asked.
Still, nothing.
And thatâs when I noticed she was crying.
Not, like, loud, sniffling crying that makes your shoulders hunch and your face hurt. Just quiet tears leaking from her eyes,trailing down her cheeks, and dripping from her chin. She was so lost in her sadness that I wasnât even sure she was aware of my presence until I touched her cold face, wiping away one of the tears with the pad of my thumb.
âHey,â I said as gently as I could. âWhatâs wrong?â I moved her shoes so I could scoot closer, but she stood up abruptly, stepping back from the edge of the pool.
âNothing,â she said, and I knew it wasnât true, but she started walking away, barefoot on the cold, sandy soil. I figured if it meant that much to her not to talk about it, then she could keep her secrets.
Still, I followed her. I knew she wanted to be alone, but there was something about the way she walked, something about the little hiccup sound she made as she wiped away her tears and pretended like they never existed . . . it didnât feel right to abandon her.
Maybe I should have left her alone. Maybe then she wouldnât have gone away.
As she passed by one of the old camp buildings, she whirled around. âYou can go back in time, right?â
âYeah,â I said. I watched her closely. She wasnât acting like herself, but I didnât know how to make it better.
âCan you take other people back?â
I nodded. âDo you want to go back
here
?â I asked, waving my hand toward the abandoned