My daughter died two years ago; last week the school called to say she was in the principal’s office.

“What girl? You must have mistaken me for someone,” I said automatically. “My daughter is dead.”

There was a pause on the line.

“She says her name is ‘Grace,’” Frank continued. “And she looks remarkably like the photo we still have in our student database.”

My heart started beating so hard it hurt.

—That’s impossible.