Two cars idled in the driveway, waiting to take everyone home. Holding the front door open, Archie said goodbye to his study partners as they filed out. Zig headed toward one car, Kamiko and Spencer toward the other. Desta stepped outside last, then turned back.

“This was really nice,” she said. “Your cookies were great.”

“Oh.” Archie glanced down and rubbed the back of his neck, caught off guard by the compliment. “Yeah, no problem. Glad you could come.”

“And I know you’ll find a project. When you do, we’ll be there to help, just like you’ve helped us.” She gave him a feather-light punch in the shoulder. “We’ve got your back.”

Sparks danced under his skin again where she’d touched him. He tried to respond, but his brain had forgotten how to use words. Instead he offered what he hoped was a grateful smile.

With a little wave, Desta turned and walked toward Spencer’s car. Archie watched after her, secretly hoping she would look back at him. But she didn’t, and they sped away.

He shut the front door, trying to dispel his disappointment. It had been a good day, even if she treated him like just a friend. Not that being friends was bad. Being friends was nice.

Though it would’ve been nicer if she’d looked back.

As Archie walked through the living room, Aunt Violet snored, sprawled facedown on the couch.

Yeah, that seems about right.

With a snort, she sat bolt upright. “What? I’m awake, I swear!” When her bleary eyes landed on Archie, her expression turned mortified. “Don’t tell Candace.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Archie said with mock drama.

No harm done, he figured. Grandpa needed an adult around in case he got confused or upset, but he didn’t need someone tracking his every movement—even if Aunt Candace might think so.

Leaving Violet to gather herself, he ambled toward the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten much while the group was here. Stress made him ravenous, but he’d felt too self-conscious to wolf down a big bowl of food in front of everyone. Now he could snack without an audience, and Zig’s leftover ramen was calling his name.

In the kitchen doorway, Archie stopped in his tracks. Grandpa was standing at the refrigerator.

“Oh hey, Grandpa. I thought you went to bed.”

Grandpa didn’t respond. Head buried in the fridge, he rifled through its contents with urgency, as if he’d lost something in there.

“Looking for something?” Archie asked. “There’s peanut M&Ms in the freezer.”

With a shake of his head and a frustrated huff, Grandpa slammed the fridge door shut and shuffled over to the pantry. He threw both doors open and dove into the shelves. Boxes and bags of food rustled loudly as he shoved them around.

What was he looking for? Gingerly, Archie laid a hand on Grandpa’s arm. “Can I help you find something?”

Grandpa yanked his arm away. Archie flinched. It’s a bad one.

Slamming the pantry doors shut, Grandpa glared at Archie. His eyes weren’t just cloudy and confused. There was a frenzy behind them, and he stared as if he suspected Archie was an enemy.

“Whoever you are,” he seethed, “when I find what I’m looking for, I’ll know what it is. Okay? Just leave me alone!”

Grandpa shouldered past him, turned one way and then another, and finally went back to the fridge. Throwing the door open, he searched desperately where he’d already searched before.

All Archie could do was stand there, feeling a sadness that seemed too infinite for one person to contain. Like a chasm that he could never cry enough tears to fill up.

If he believed crying would help, he might have tried. Instead he just felt exhausted, as if that chasm had a physical weight that he’d been carrying all these months.

Flying with dragons together wouldn’t fix this. Not tonight.

Aunt Violet was in the other room. If Grandpa got out of control, it was her job to handle him tonight. But it seemed to Archie that, in moments like this, there was nothing to do except leave Grandpa alone. He would work through his confusion eventually. Hopefully.

Archie sighed. “Good night, Grandpa.”

He turned and left the kitchen. Every movement felt like his limbs were filled with concrete. His one comforting thought was that at least Grandma Ella didn’t have to see this.

Somehow, he made it up the stairs. He meant to go straight to bed but found himself hovering in the doorway to Grandpa’s room. His gaze fixed on a recent painting: mist rolling over rich green hills, a blue sea beyond, and the ruins of an ancient castle perched atop a cliff.

Grandpa sometimes painted memories from his old adventures. This one must be from when he’d traveled across Ireland with nothing but a backpack.

Archie had determined long ago that he would make that same trip someday. He would have to ask Grandpa for more details when he was ready to plan it.

With that thought, reality came flooding back. Archie’s heart sank. By the time he was old enough to travel on his own, would he still be able to ask Grandpa about Ireland? Would Grandpa even remember going there?

Feeling twice as heavy now, Archie shuffled into his own bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. He pulled his computer onto his lap. There was still a project to think about, and it had become obvious that life wouldn’t wait for him to stop feeling sad.

So he sat there and he searched his own heart, and he pondered.

Who was he? What did he want to be?

How about anywhere but here?

He grimaced, feeling guilty for thinking that. It wasn’t true. But right now it felt true. How could he decide his purpose in life when life was cracking apart under his feet?

Footsteps passed by his door—Grandpa going to bed, Aunt Violet checking on him.

He stared at his desk, where the Journal waited beside a new novel Mom had let him buy. This one was about people hopping between dimensions. Could he use that in the next fantasy for Grandpa?

There could be no more winging it. Archie had to be better prepared for the next time Grandpa needed him, or the disease would start winning. He had to focus on that.

But . . .

Even if the Stone-Katzman Project wasn’t as world-changing as he’d once believed, shouldn’t he keep working until he found a way to finish it? Wasn’t thinking about the future an early step in making the future happen?

Still the Journal called to him and the novel sang his name, promising answers. Promising salvation. He reached toward them.

The project will still be there tomorrow.

Didn’t you say that last night, and the night before?

Pushing through his own objections, Archie pulled the books onto the bed. Just as he opened the novel to the title page, he heard the front door open. He paused, struck with cold anxiety.

Mom was home.

Archie waited until he heard Aunt Violet leave and Mom come upstairs before he left his room. Grandpa’s door was closed. Archie saw no light along the cracks as he crept by.

At the end of the hall, soft light spilled from Mom’s open door. It felt ten miles away. He tried to avoid all the creaky parts of the floor, but his heartbeat pounded so loudly that it was hard to tell if he was successful. Anxiety or not, though, this needed to be done.

After an eternal march, he stopped in her doorway. Mom sat at her vanity, slowly taking down her hair and removing her earrings. No, not slowly. Wearily. Mechanically. She stared into space like her mind was far away.

Archie cleared his throat. Mom went stiff. Her eyes focused but stayed on the mirror.

“How was your date?”

Mom shrugged. “It was . . . well, you know, it was . . .” She sighed, her posture sagging. “Awful. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Leaning over, she slipped her shoes off and set them aside. Then she removed her necklace. Though she seemed focused on those simple tasks, Archie could see that her attention was split. She didn’t look at him, but she was aware he was still there.

The tension hung thick between them, like something he could physically cut through. He pushed past it. It didn’t change what he needed to do.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never thought how it might affect you, watching Grandpa . . . change.”

Trembling, Mom braced both hands on the vanity and took a series of deliberate breaths. Archie wouldn’t have known what that meant a year ago. Now he knew she was struggling to hold herself together. Eventually, though, she started to cry.

Archie sat on the bench next to her. She latched onto him, holding tightly. He did the same. Then he realized he was crying too.

He didn’t know how long they sat there clinging to each other like they were the only two people in a lifeboat tossed by stormy seas. He just knew that, right now, holding on felt like the only way to survive.

“I never knew how lonely this would feel,” Mom said. “And we’ve both been trying to cope by ourselves.”

“But we don’t have to.”

Mom shook her head. “No. We have to talk more, and we have to be better at facing what’s happening—not just trying to distract ourselves from it.”

They leaned out of the embrace. Archie took a moment to wipe his eyes.

“I’m so afraid of losing him,” Mom confessed. “I’ve been using all these dates like you use your fantasies with Grandpa. They’re an escape, but in the end that’s all they are. They won’t really change anything. So we need to do better, find ways to deal with all of this for real. We can do better, right?”

Archie didn’t hear the question. She shook him gently.

“Earth to Archibald.”

“What?”

“I said we can help each other do better, right?”

“Oh. Um, yeah. Definitely.”

“Good,” Mom said.

He tried to look upbeat for Mom’s sake. He knew he’d done the right thing, apologizing. Grandpa always said it was what strong people did. And this talk had clearly done Mom so much good. She would feel terrible if she knew how deeply her words had cut him.

The shared fantasies were just an escape? Everything he’d done to protect Grandpa’s mind, to hold off the disease—was she saying it didn’t really work? That couldn’t be true, right? After all, she was the one who’d asked him to use the fantasies today.

And look how that turned out.

They hugged again and said good night. When Archie closed his door and sank into bed, he hoped sleep would overtake him quickly.

But her words wouldn’t leave him. Was she right?

Am I doing this the wrong way?