The Copycat
Chapters (68)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Chapter One
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Chapter Two
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Chapter Three
- Ten
- Eleven
- Chapter Four
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Chapter Five
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Chapter Six
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Chapter Seven
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Chapter Eight
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Chapter Nine
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Ten
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Chapter Eleven
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Chapter Twelve
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirteen
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Chapter Fourteen
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Chapter Fifteen
- The Following Summer
- About the Author
- About the Publisher
Cover
Dedication
To my grandparents Hooey (a Sloan without an “e”!)
and Kenny Ryder, brilliant, remarkable
originals who made Saint John magical!
To Lauren, a wonderful friend and mentor whom I adore.
To my family and friends: I would happily spend
the rest of my life copying each and every one of you!
Epigraph
The fog comes
On little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
—Carl Sandburg
One
Ali Sloane knew her father was about to launch into his first-day-at-a-new-school lecture when he literally transformed into her. As in, features rearranging themselves, bones and muscles contracting, hair lengthening, and plaid work shirt and jeans morphing into a purple hoodie and black leggings. He didn’t stop until Ali was staring at a mirror image of herself. It would be impressive if it weren’t her father and her face.
“Remember: be yourself, Ali-Cat, and everything will be fine.”
They stood in her great-grandmother Gigi’s living room and waited for Ali’s mom and Gigi to come downstairs for the obligatory first-day-of-school photograph.
“Seriously? Says the man who just turned into his twelve-year-old daughter?”
Digger, which was what everybody called her father, including Ali, shrugged.
Ali sighed. She didn’t like it when he turned into her; it made her uncomfortable. This morning’s transformation was his long-standing trick to get her complete attention. But she wasn’t three years old anymore, she was twelve, and all he had to do was ask. Besides, it was the same speech he delivered every time she started a new school.
“I don’t know why you tell me to be myself. You know I can’t be anything but myself.” She turned her attention to her knapsack, double-checking that everything on the seventh-grade supplies list was accounted for, along with her library book.
Digger refused to be put off. “I just worry when every report card says you’re too concerned about getting along with people, to the detriment of yourself and your schoolwork.”
Ali snorted. If Digger had had to change schools as often as Ali—this was new school number ten—he would understand why she tried so hard to fit in. She yanked on the knapsack’s zipper and it caught on the canvas. After trying to fix it herself for a full minute, she gave up and passed it to Digger. “Can we please not have this conversation again?”
ALI’S LIST OF TOWNS (SO FAR)
Kindergarten: Campbellton
Grade One: Bathurst
Grade Two: Miramichi
Grade Three: Milltown
Grade Four: Lawrence Station, Harvey Station
Grade Five: McAdam, Woodstock
Grade Six: Sussex
Grade Seven: Saint John
It was odd to watch another version of herself unstick the zipper. A blink later and he was himself again, all sympathetic eyes. “I know it’s hard, Ali-Cat.”