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yelled.
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Will said matter-of-factly. “I’d tell you if I knew, but the purpose of the missions are for the Shadow to determine. That’s part of the job.”
    “You are literally useless,” I spat. “Go away, please,” I continued, even though I found his presence oddly comforting.
    When I turned back, he was gone, and I wracked my brain for answers. I had been sent here to fix Brooke’s life. What part of Brooke’s life was broken, exactly? She had friends who loved her, a killer alto belt, and a family with, well, problems.
    That’s it, I thought. I’m supposed to fix this family.
    “Simple,” I said aloud, rolling my eyes.
    I stood and sauntered over to the tree where Paul had planted himself, and I sat down next to him. “I guess you’re not thrilled with this whole Ms. Peterson thing,” I said.
    He just scowled. “She’s not mom.”
    Then he looked at me with lifeless, sunken eyes, the kind you have when your heart has been so shocked by tragedy that you no longer hold a good opinion of the world, or of life itself. “Why did mom have to die?” he asked.
    I wrapped my arms around him. He put his sandy head in my lap and clung to each of my knees.
    Just then, my own sadness smacked me in the face like a wave, sadness I’d been trying to avoid until now. Abby Grace, the person I was, was dead. Abby Grace would know no more barbecues on the Fourth of July, no more kissing under a blanket, no more staring out at a lake or reveling in a fall breeze and no more Grace family dinners. Whoever my family was, they were probably crying for me at that moment, not knowing that I was still conscious, still trying to find my way back to them.
    But I probably never would. I was doomed to drift forever from unfamiliar family to unfamiliar family, homeless in the universe. It was no life at all.
    I looked down to find Paul still clinging to me like a kitten. He may have thought he was clinging to his big sister, but really he was clinging to me, Abby Grace.
    Maybe, I thought, he needs me instead of Brooke. Maybe Brooke wouldn’t have said the right thing. Maybe I was sent here because, for some reason, I know how he feels.
    I bent down and whispered into Paul’s ear. “There’s just no good reason, Paul. There’s never a good reason for anyone to die.”
    He was crying now, silently, but hard. His chest was reverberating with sobs that he kept locked in his throat.
    “There is a good reason, though, to keep on living, if you have the chance,” I said. “That’s what Dad is trying to do. He’s not trying to replace Mom, or forget about her. He just wants to keep on living. I’m sure for a while he just wanted to give up, but if Ms. Peterson gives him a reason to get out of bed in the morning, I think that’s a good thing.”
    Paul let out one sob, one monumental sob that was half-cry, half-sigh, and curled up tighter against me. I reached down and ran my fingers through his hair, making soothing little shushing noises until he had stopped shaking.
    “I missed you so much, Brooke. I even had Leo tape your concert just so I could see you,” Paul whimpered. “You really messed up the lyrics to the song.”
    I giggled as I felt a little blush of relief. Pride, even. Through all the distance and the unfamiliarity, I made a connection with this stranger. I comforted him in his darkest hour, and he in mine. And if that isn’t living, I don’t know what is.
    Abby Grace, Shadow.
    If I couldn’t get back to my own family, then I could make new ones. Temporary little families that I could love as my own.
    Dad padded nervously through the grass and crouched down near us. “Kids?” he said. “I  . . . ”
    Sniffling and red-faced, Paul emerged from my lap and threw his arms around Dad. “I’m sorry I kidnapped myself.”
    “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Hilary,” he said. “I was scared you’d think I was trying to replace your mom. But we all know that’s not