Will’s bedroom is weird now that he’s gone. It’s as if he’s haunting it, because I can still feel him there. Sometimes I hear his voice, but it must be in my head.

I have nightmares, so I sleep in my parents’ bed, and, sometimes, one of them wakes up screaming. I thought you grew out of bad dreams, but I was wrong because Mum’s screams are the worst.

When I wake up, I think he’s still here, and then I remember the truth and don’t like life anymore.

Mum and Dad’s smiles aren’t really smiles. I know they’re trying for me, but I wish they wouldn’t. I wish they’d just be sad all the time so I know what they’re saying is real. That’s why I like it when Mum sits on the end of my bed and cries and says, “I want you to do something. You might think it’s bad…but it’s actually good.”

It doesn’t matter what she wants me to do. I’m happy that she’s being honest, and I say, “Okay.”

“We’ll need to practice,” Mum says. “You can’t get this wrong.”

“What happens if I get it wrong?” I ask, and she cries a bit more.

“Then I’ll lose you as well.”

IIII IIII

“Watch closely,” Mum says. “This is really important.”

We’re in town, but we’re not shopping. We’re looking at people in secret.

“Not all mums are good mums,” she says. “That’s what we’re waiting for.”

“A bad mum?” I ask.

“Exactly.”

“But we also need to find a boy that looks like…” Her voice wobbles, and she looks down at me and says, “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what she’s apologizing for, but I say it’s okay. She smiles and says, “We need to find a boy that looks like Will.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to save him.”

Mum’s eyes are wet, so I give her a tissue. She hugs me and says, “It’s all going to be okay.”

They both keep saying that, and I want to believe them, but I don’t. How can it be okay when my brother is dead and it’s my fault and my parents are so, so sad? And now Mum is talking about things I don’t understand.

“What are we saving him from?” I ask.

Mum pushes her lips against my ear, and it tickles, but I don’t laugh because nothing is funny anymore.

“We’re saving him from a bad life,” she whispers. “We’re going to give someone what Will had.”

She seems strange, and I have to look away.

“Like that boy,” she says. “See how his mum isn’t paying him any attention? Anyone could take him if they wanted to.”

“But that’s wrong,” I say.