Chapters (43)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Books by Ben Philippe
- Back Ad
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
I rub a frustrated hand across my face, realizing that there’s probably not an inch of this deceptively teched-out apartment that Aunt Terry can’t see from her phone. As if on cue, the volume goes up under us.
“Food beyond compare, Food beyond belief, Mix it in a mincer and pretend it’s beef.”
“Okay, I’m going to my room now, Auntie!” Corinne shouts into the air because there is really no recovering the mood once entrails get in the mix in surround sound.
“Sounds like a fine plan, babe,” Terry answers back, decidedly pleased with herself.
“Kidney of a horse, liver of a cat, Filling up the sausages with this and that.”
“It’s getting late, anyway,” Corinne says, now on her feet with half a room between us.
“Look, Corinne, I’m sorry if that wasn’t—”
“G’night, Henri!”
And just like that, she is already out of the room, which is back to an eerie silence. I fall flat onto the pillow and can’t help but let out a weary laugh. At what, I’m not sure. The weight of North American travels, maybe; of being in Cana-freaking-da, in this strange doppelganger’s home, with Corinne a door away; of having a McGill interview on the docket in less than eleven hours. Or maybe it’s just not knowing which of these facts is currently making me the most nervous.
Nineteen
McGill University is a relatively small campus up on a hill in downtown Montreal, not too far from yesterday’s train station. Aunt Terry drops me off at the bottom gates, since she doesn’t have a pass to drive onto the campus. The new Design School building is located up Rue University, at the corner of Pine Avenue West, an appropriately bilingual corner of the map. It’s a bit of a walk, which makes the fact that I’m early a good thing. The last I saw of Corinne this morning, she was a very still bundle of covers through the crack of her door. Not that I was trying to catch a glimpse of her before leaving for good luck or anything.
“Babe, I have to cover the morning shift at the bakery,” Terry says, checking her watch. “But Corinne knows her way around town, so I’ll make sure to tell her where to meet you, okay?”
“Thanks for everything, Terry. I really appreciate it.”
“Your parents raised you right. So polite! And so handsome in that suit!” she squeals. “Dazzle ’em, you hear?” she orders as she pulls away.
Dazzle. Right.