It was hard to imagine Ali’s homebody father at school. He spent his days poking around the house or working on his art, only leaving on the rare occasions he found work. Last week he’d gone down to the port to draw caricatures of the cruise-ship tourists. He was supposed to be there all day, but came home at lunchtime because conversations with strangers, and staying in his human form all day, was just too hard. School must have been torturous. She could relate to that.

Ali’s mom leaned over the steering wheel as the car crept along. Now and then she eyed the dashboard clock and bit her lip. The fog lights haloed other vehicles and pedestrians in their eerie glow. Ali stared out the window at the nothingness, startled when a boy emerged from the mist. He swung his knapsack as he walked, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. If Ali was a Copycat like Digger was, she’d copy someone like him. He looked so happy.

Her mom must have sensed her mood. “It’ll be okay. We’re here to stay.”

Ali wanted to believe that, but didn’t. “Digger gave me ‘the talk’ this morning.” Then she did her uncanny impression of her father, right down to his deep baritone and furrowed brow. “Be yourself, Ali-Cat.”

“Oh, dear. He just wants things to go well for you today.”

Unlike the last few schools. Ali was glad her mother didn’t try to rehash her failures; she did that enough herself. Like how she’d skipped school last year because her friends had dared her to, and got detention for a week. Or when she cut her hair in fifth grade so she’d look like her new friend, Caitlen, who was so furious she’d refused to speak to Ali for the rest of the school year. When she was younger it had been easier to change schools, but now it was a nightmare. Her attempts to fit in always failed. Would this time be different? Ali doubted it.

To stop her mom from worrying, she asked, “What advice would Maya have for me?”

Maya was Maya Angelou, a famous dead author and poet who was very much alive to Ali’s mom. Maya’s number-one fan, she believed there was no problem Maya’s wisdom couldn’t fix. The opportunity to dole out Maya advice always put her in a good mood, so Ali wasn’t surprised when her mother’s shoulders relaxed.

“She once said, ‘If you can’t change it, change the way you think about it.’ Maya would tell you to march into that school like you own it, like you’re doing them a favor by going there.”

Ali grunted, but her mom was on a roll. “Maya also said, ‘You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.’”