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greeted me warmly, and I joined Simon in the kitchen, where he was munching on an unlucky gingerbread man. I snatched one for myself.
    Around the kitchen, and every other room that I saw, there were pictures: family pictures, a Hawaiian vacation, Simon’s sister’s first dance recital. There was even one of those tacky pictures where everyone wore the same sweater. Each kid also had their own frame of all their school pictures from kindergarten on.
    One family picture in particular caught my eye. “Where was this taken at?” I grabbed the whole frame and handed it to Simon.
    He carefully examined it, running his finger down the mountain in the picture. “That was my birthday. Age nine. I told my dad I wanted to climb a mountain when I grew up, and he said why wait, so he took all of us to that mountain. We hiked up as far as the trail let us. He even had a birthday cake for me in his backpack that we ate at the end of the trail. Best birthday ever.” Simon hugged the photo tight.
    Simon cried when they took him. He flailed around in the Gray Suits’ arms as they dragged him away. I’d never seen Simon do so much as squish a bug, but he kicked those men with the force only a scared little boy could produce. I could still hear him howling after they slammed the door.
    Mom was my whole world. So when my mom told me something, whatever it was became truth. Until they took Simon.
    His parents seemed kind, even sweeter than Kim’s were. Granted, I was only at his house for a short time, but the atmosphere spoke of kindness and love. What had the government found wrong with a cookie-making mother and mountain-climbing father?
    I asked Mom when I got home, the day they dragged Simon away. She smiled and assured me that there must have been something I didn’t see. Something awful.
    But as soon as she thought I was out of hearing distance, she picked up the phone.
    From my post around the corner from the kitchen, I heard her perfectly. “Look, sir, if my daughter tells me something doesn’t make sense, then something’s wrong. At least look into the file will you? Hawthorne. Simon Hawthorne. This is the second one in her class that didn’t make sense.” Pause. “Sure, thank you.” Pause. “Absolutely. Please call me back when you have something.”
    I wasn’t proud of it, but I prayed for alcoholism. Or a drug conviction. Something that would explain why those sweet people had their son torn away from them. I waited for Mom’s follow-up phone call.
    It never came. At least not THAT phone call anyway…
    • • •
    Two Wednesdays after they took Simon, I was lying on my bed, desperately hoping sleep would come. Sleep had come to me in short bursts since I lost Olivia. For as long as I could remember, especially during the week, I would wake up in the middle of the night and find myself desperately sucking in air, my whole body tingling with sweat. But the nightmares had been extra vicious for a few nights in a row. Men in black masks grabbed Olivia by her hair and dragged her away from me, taking her with them as they walked slowly and deliberately into a green, slimy pond, thick with seaweed and garbage. The bubbles from her last breath danced on the pond’s surface.
    I gave up my attempted nap after about twenty minutes and realized that I was just going to have to apologize to Bo when I started yawning at the table. He was going to come make dinner for us that night, and I didn’t want him to think I didn’t appreciate it. I leaped off the bed and headed downstairs to distract myself from my sleep deprivation until he came over.
    Mom was typing away at the desk in her bedroom, and I thought maybe if I was just quiet enough, I could get away with spending a couple minutes by myself outside in the fresh air. With so many people dying all over the place, like most parents who had a clue, Mom didn’t let me go outside in the yard by myself. Though I understood, playing basketball in the driveway didn’t have