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Back The Copycat Save as PDF
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Chapter One
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Chapter Two
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Chapter Three
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Chapter Four
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Chapter Five
  23. Fifteen
  24. Sixteen
  25. Chapter Six
  26. Seventeen
  27. Eighteen
  28. Nineteen
  29. Chapter Seven
  30. Twenty
  31. Twenty-One
  32. Twenty-Two
  33. Chapter Eight
  34. Twenty-Three
  35. Twenty-Four
  36. Twenty-Five
  37. Chapter Nine
  38. Twenty-Six
  39. Twenty-Seven
  40. Chapter Ten
  41. Twenty-Eight
  42. Twenty-Nine
  43. Thirty
  44. Thirty-One
  45. Chapter Eleven
  46. Thirty-Two
  47. Thirty-Three
  48. Thirty-Four
  49. Thirty-Five
  50. Chapter Twelve
  51. Thirty-Six
  52. Thirty-Seven
  53. Thirty-Eight
  54. Chapter Thirteen
  55. Thirty-Nine
  56. Forty
  57. Forty-One
  58. Forty-Two
  59. Chapter Fourteen
  60. Forty-Three
  61. Forty-Four
  62. Forty-Five
  63. Forty-Six
  64. Forty-Seven
  65. Chapter Fifteen
  66. The Following Summer
  67. About the Author
  68. About the Publisher

Residents along the Bay of Fundy have long employed various methods to predict the onset of fog. Matthew Morgan of Quaco swore his wooden leg swelled immediately preceding a particularly pernicious bout of fog, though this was dismissed by his neighbors as “Quaco quackery.” Josie Pyle of Chamcook said you could smell the fog coming in, for it carried enough salt to cure a ham. Parker McKenna claimed the seagulls stayed ashore in numbers far exceeding their regular assemblies over land. The most maudlin prediction belonged to my grandfather Barker, who said you could tell the fog was coming when you felt your heart break.

—PERCIVAL T. SLOANE,

A History of Fog in the Bay of Fundy (1932)

Twenty-Six

Emily cornered Ali after homeroom the next morning. It was clear she was in a horrible mood. “We need to work on our project today. Meet me in the cafeteria at lunch.”

Ali, taken aback, nodded. “Sure.” Had Emily forgotten that she’d already invited Ali to eat lunch with her today? Something was up, but she knew better than to ask what it was.

At lunchtime, she stopped to let Cassie, Murray, and Alfie know she couldn’t eat with them. Except she’d forgotten that Murray and Alfie were occupied elsewhere and that Cassie would be alone. As she approached the table, Cassie flashed her a relieved smile. Ali gulped, but told herself that Cassie would understand. Besides, Ali knew better than anyone that it was possible to survive eating alone.

She blurted out her explanation. “I can’t eat with you today. Emily and I are working on our project.”

Cassie blinked several times, glanced over at Emily’s table across the room, and then stared down at her lunch. Her lack of response was Ali’s undoing; paralyzed, she tried to think of how to make things better. What would Cassie like to hear her say? She knew that telling people what they wanted to hear was the best way to get along.

“I’m just eating with her because of the project. We aren’t friends or anything.” She recoiled at her words, ashamed.

But her instinct was right: Cassie smiled. “Okay. I guess I can go watch Murray and Alfie play. Are we still going to Tin Can Beach this weekend? Murray can come.”

“Sure.”

“Will you eat lunch with me tomorrow?”

Ali nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Emily beckon to her. “See you in science class!” She rushed away, not waiting for a response.

Emily had saved the seat next to her, across the table from Taylor and another girl Emily introduced as Jillian, who wasn’t in any of Ali’s classes. As Ali unpacked her brown paper bag, she couldn’t help but admire Emily’s purple metallic lunch box with its multiple compartments and colorful utensils. Unlike the other kids, who were eating sandwiches or chips, Emily was eating creamy noodles and a kale salad.