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too,” he said.
    Leo stood frozen, not knowing what to do.
    I cleared my throat. “I found Paul.”
     

Chapter Ten
    Friday, 6:24 PM
    “T hank you, Sir,” said Dad, as he escorted Male Officer in the denim jacket to the porch.
    “Actually, you should thank Brooke,” Male Officer said. “She’s the one who found him. She’s not a bad little detective.” He tipped his baseball cap in my direction and walked off toward the street, leaving Paul and me alone on the couch.
    Paul wasshort and compact with sweet little arms, full lips, and big blue eyes, which he refused to cast in my direction. Clearly, he had a lot of feelings about having been found, but gratitude was not among them.
    Dad shut the front door behind him and sat in his cozy chair at the other end of the living room, which gave him all the power. Paul and I were like penitent subjects begging a monarch for mercy.
    Dad furrowed his brow and pressed his hands to his lips, as if searching for the right words. “I’m very disturbed, Paul. Arranging for your burnout friends to kidnap you? I  . . . I’m so angry! I thought you were dead! And then to drag Brooke into it by kidnapping her, too  . . . It’s horrible, what you did!”
    “I wouldn’t have done it if you ever talked to me anymore,” Paul muttered under his breath. His skinny arms were folded across his chest and his lips were pressed together in a pout as he stared at his shoes.
    “What?” Dad asked. “Speak up.”
    “I said, I wouldn’t have done it if you ever talked to me anymore!” he shouted. The bottom rims of his eyelids were puffy and red.
    “I talk to you plenty,” Dad said.
    “No, you don’t! Not since Mom died. First you just disappeared. You were always in your room, and you were always sad. But now, forget about it! Now you’re always out! Or on the phone! I’d rather have you depressed at home than running around ignoring us!”
    “He’s not ignoring us,” I said. “He’s in love.”
    Both Dad and Paul stared at me in shock.
    “Ms. Peterson,” I said. “Right?”
    Dad blinked. “I  . . . ” he stammered, his face turning red.
    It was obvious to me, now. That’s why Ms. Peterson had called the house the night before—to check up on my father, not to threaten or scare me. It was also how she had known about the van; my father must have told her.
    He cleared his throat. “I didn’t want you kids to learn about it like this. I wanted to wait until things were more official, but  . . . yes. I have been seeing Hilary. It’s been wonderful. We’re in love.”
    “How can you be in love with Ms. Peterson?” gasped Paul.
    “She’s a good woman, son. Both of you will really like her once you get to know her away from school. As a person.” He paused, inhaling deeply as if to steady himself. “We’re getting married next summer.”
    “You can’t!” shrieked Paul.
    “And why not?” hollered Dad.
    “Because she’s NOT MOM, that’s why!”
    Just then, the front door squeaked open, and Ms. Peterson took a tentative step inside. “Paul?” she said. “I heard you were back, I just wanted to make sure you were safe—”
    But before Ms. Peterson could finish, Paul had bolted from the couch and pushed past his new stepmother-to-be, nearly knocking her over, and ran to the front lawn, where he curled up behind a tree.
    I followed him and sat down on the porch, bewildered. A moment later I felt Will sitting beside me. “Congratulations,” he said. “You found Paul.”
    I scowled at him. “Well, then why am I still here? When do I get to leave?”
    “You get to leave when the mission is complete,” he said.
    “But I rescued him! He’s safe!”
    “He was safe the whole time,” Will said. “Clearly, it wasn’t about rescuing him.”
    I began to panic. Had I misinterpreted my entire purpose in inhabiting Brooke’s body? Did it have nothing to do with finding Paul at all?
    “Well, what was it about, then, Omniscient One?” I