usually go home on weekends, we decided to stay because Gwen wanted to throw him a party.
Gwen, SofÃa, Ryan, and I sit around the big table; Harold stands off to the side chatting with his ghosts.
âHis favorite books are the Harry Potter series,â SofÃa says in a hushed voice.
âI can work with that,â Gwen says. âMaybe we can make up a letter from Hogwarts and slip it under his door.â
âLame,â Ryan drawls.
Gwen rolls her eyes at him. âThen what do you suggest?â
Ryan leans back lazily. âHey, Harold,â he calls. âWant to play Quidditch?â
Haroldâs whole face lights up.
The vision fades from my mind, but Iâm left smiling, remembering what happened next. Ryan had been rightâif we had powers, why not use them? SofÃa scrounged up four brooms while Gwen found some volleyballs in the beach supply closet, and Harold, Ryan, and I went to the courtyard. Ryan used his telekinesis to make us fly on the broomsâor, more accurately, float in place or slowly move backward, since he still didnât have much control of his ability. With a little effort we got an actual Quidditch game going. Sort of. Either way, it was hilarious and fun.
When the Doctor came out to see what we were all doing, Ryan floated his gold fountain pen from his front pocket and used it as the Snitch. I think he made sure that Harold got it; Ryan wasnât so much of a dick back then. Ryan was still Ryan, though, so he made sure the ball we were using hit Harold as soon as he snatched the pen from the air. Harold collapsed onto the soft grass below, laughing his brains out.
As the vision fades, the timestream comes into sharper focus. SofÃaâs string is a little closer, but itâs not enough. The end is still trapped in the dark spot swirling over 1692. I workquickly and select another moment along the string, striking like a cobra as I snatch it, tugging it from the weave.
Ryan, Harold, and I are hanging out by the marsh. Haroldâs wearing shorts; this is still at the end of summer. When Ryan starts to talk, I realize that this memory is from one of the first few days at Berkshire, when everyone was still moving in, before classes had even started.
âIâve been to three of these before,â Ryan says, gathering rocks into a little pile. He starts throwing them into the marsh, aiming for the birds.
âThree?â I ask.
âSchools like this.â I didnât know other schools like Berkshire even existed.
âYou?â he asks.
âMy first.â
âMe too,â Harold says in a small voice, his eyes unfocused, as if he were speaking to someone other than us. âBerkshire. I like the name of it. Sounds like a place where hobbits would live.â
âThis place does look pretty cool,â Ryan admits. âItâs nicer than the last place I was at. That joint was like a prison.â
âLook.â Harold points down the path, toward the academy and the black van pulling into the circular drive.
âTheyâre in our class,â Ryan says. He chuckles; heâd almost hit a magpie with that last stone he threw.
I see the shorter girl first, and right away, I can tell sheâs the kind of girl who loves attention. Itâs Gwen, wearing sparkly clips in her black hairâthe tips of which are dyed redâand a shirt so low-cut I can see her cleavage all the way from whereIâm standing. Sheâs showing off her power too, sparking little fires in the palms of her hands like itâs no big deal.
And just when I start to look away, I see SofÃa.
And then I donât.
I almost shove Ryan in the marsh to get him to shut up about the stupid birds for two seconds as I lean forward, trying to find her again. Sheâd been visible for just a second, but that second was enoughâsheâs burned into my mind. Gwenâs the type of girl who demands to be noticed, but