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
“I need smiles!” Gigi ordered.
“For heaven’s sake, Digger, smile,” Ali’s mom directed through a toothy grin and chattering teeth. “Ali and I have to go.”
In response, Digger sprouted a tail and wagged it against Ali and her mother, who giggled. Satisfied that he’d lightened everyone’s mood, he smiled for the camera. Ali didn’t need to look to know that his smile was awkward. Digger loathed having his picture taken.
“Perfect!” Gigi cried, and snapped three pictures in a row.
“I’ll never get used to this fog,” Ali’s mom grumbled. She broke away and hurried toward their rusty car. “The weatherman says it’s sunny and twenty degrees warmer fifteen minutes outside of the city, can you believe it?” She had said the same thing every foggy day since they’d moved to Saint John two weeks ago. Which, because Ali liked to keep track of things, was nine days out of fourteen.
Talking about the fog was the number-one pastime of Saint Johners: how thick it was, when it would burn off, how it compared to yesterday’s fog, if there would be fog tomorrow, bay fog versus inland fog. Everyone except Ali agreed that the city would be perfect if there was less fog. For her, Saint John equaled fog, but it also equaled Gigi, her own bedroom, and maybe, if she was lucky, staying put. Fog was something to celebrate, not moan about. Of course, it wasn’t always convenient. Today’s fog was damp and frigid and plastered Ali’s hair against her head.
Ali took a deep breath to calm the familiar queasy lurch in her stomach. “Have a nice day, Gigi,” she said as she wrapped her arms around her great-grandmother’s bony frame. She inhaled Gigi’s comforting scent of lavender talcum powder and Ivory soap.
“You’ll be fine, Alison. We Sloanes are strong. Don’t you forget that.”
Digger waited beside the front passenger door. “Everything will go well, Ali-Cat.” Like he could possibly know that. When he went around to kiss Ali’s mother goodbye, it was impossible to miss the uneasy smiles they exchanged. If the past was the best predictor of the future, Ali would be anything but fine.
It was a twenty-minute walk from Gigi’s house to Princess Elizabeth School, but Ali’s mom insisted on driving her. “At least I can start you off on the right foot the first day,” she said, as if that made up for the fact that she could never attend school functions because of her shift work. “Try not to be nervous. Digger went to Princess Elizabeth School and liked it a lot.”