A few days later, I was taken to the funeral home. Mom was already waiting there, holding a pale blue dress.Before last year's winter formal, I'd stood outside the shop window and stared at that dress for a long time. Back then, Mom said it was too expensive and that I'd wear it once, then leave it hanging in the closet forever. Dad secretly bought it for me anyway. Now Mom laid the dress out on the table and worked her way down the back, fastening the buttons one by one. She fastened the first button through the wrong hole, lowered her head, undid it, and started over. The second time, her hands shook so badly that she couldn't work the button through the hole.Oliver had been standing in the doorway, holding my old backpack against his chest. Mom had barely said, "Oliver," when he pulled a stack of papers from the inner compartment. They'd been folded so many times that the paper had grown soft and worn. "Do you remember these?"Mom looked up.They were all the "accountability state
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