The thing about moving all the time was that nowhere felt like home. Ali couldn’t point to one city, town, or village and say, “This is my hometown. I belong here.” In most of the books she read, the main character left home to undertake an epic adventure. Sometimes that adventure was about saving their home, like Frodo in The Lord of the Rings. Other times, the adventure was about the main character getting lost and finding their way home, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. But in every case, if the main character succeeded, they had a home to go back to.
Not Ali. No place tugged at her heart or made her want to stay. When she walked down the street, there were no familiar faces; she was never anywhere long enough to recognize anyone. Over time, even the people she did remember became so blurred that she couldn’t recall where she knew them from. Saint John was her last chance to set down roots. But Saint John depended on Gigi, and things weren’t looking good.
Gigi had improved very little in the two days since the doctor’s visit. She slept most of the time and subsisted on Digger’s homemade broth. Ali peeked in her room several times a day, but had gotten no reaction. Outside her closed bedroom window—as per the doctor’s orders—several birds and squirrels sat in the nearby tree and stared in at her. Digger said they were waiting for their regular handouts, but to an emotional Ali, they appeared to be keeping vigil.
“You’re so quiet tonight, Ali,” her mother said at supper. “Anything wrong? Besides Gigi, I mean.”
“What will happen if Gigi gets too sick to live at home anymore, or if she—” Ali tried to keep her emotions in check but couldn’t stop the rogue tear that slid down her cheek.
Her mother reached for her hand. “I know it’s hard. We just have to hope for the best.”
“We have to tell her the truth, Ginger,” said a grim Digger.
The room tilted. “What truth?” Ali demanded.
“Digger . . .” There was a warning in her mother’s voice, which Digger ignored.
“We’re here as Gigi’s guests. Once she’s not here, we’ll have to leave.”
Something electric pulsed through Ali and twisted itself into fearful strands of hopelessness. Ali might not be from anywhere in particular, but she had plenty of memories of the horrible places they’d lived in: walls so thin the wind passed through them like they were cardboard; shouting neighbors; mouse droppings everywhere; wondering if the food bank box would last until her mother’s next paycheck; the world—or maybe just her parents—waiting to pull the rug out from underneath them. She squeezed her eyes shut. “You mean we’d have to move if Gigi dies?”
Digger grunted. “We wouldn’t have a choice. Uncle Andrew will inherit the house, and since this is his childhood home, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to move in.”
“But I don’t want to leave! Where will we go?”
“We’ll be fine, Ali-Cat. We always are.”
In her perfect Digger voice, she repeated his hollow words back to him. “We’ll be fine, Ali-Cat. We always are.”
That was the lie they always told her.
ALI’S RULES FOR HOW TO LIVE YOUR LIFE SO YOU DON’T BECOME A SCREWUP
Ali’s mother cleared her throat. “Let’s change the subject, please. I’m like Ali; I don’t want to think about leaving. This is the best place we’ve ever lived. Any good stories from school today?”
Ali had gone to ten schools, but lived in three times that many homes. In the last year alone they had been evicted from two apartments because her parents couldn’t pay the rent on time. Ali’s mother worked hard, but her job didn’t pay enough to support a family of three. Digger rarely worked, and no one was interested in his abstract art. When Gigi had phoned and asked them to move in so she could continue to live at home, Ali’s mom had said yes, even though she knew Digger didn’t want to live in Saint John again. There had been a huge argument. Digger didn’t give in until Ali’s mom threatened to move with or without him. And since Ali knew her parents didn’t like to dwell on the bad stuff, there was no point asking any more questions.
“You wouldn’t believe the ugly shirt Alfie wore today. He said it was his dad’s.”
Digger closed his eyes. “Was it covered in flowers and parrots?”
“Yeah! How’d you know?”
“I was with Teddy when he bought it at the Salvation Army.” Digger’s voice was so quiet Ali had to strain to hear him. “We were in high school. He wore that shirt all the time. The girls loved it. But then, everybody loved Teddy.”
Ali’s mother rolled her eyes. “Everybody loved you too, Digger. Teddy once told me you were quite a hit with the opposite sex.”
Digger blushed and ducked his head. “That was a long time ago.”
“Lucky for me.”
Ali hadn’t meant to turn the conversation so gooey. “You guys are grossing me out.”
Since it was Ali’s turn to do the dishes, her parents took her comment as a sign to get lost. Anxious to check on Gigi, Ali zipped through the dishes and hurried upstairs. She paused outside Gigi’s bedroom, pressed an ear to the door, and listened to Gigi’s raspy snore. They should never have let Gigi take the first day of school photo outside in the fog. What were they thinking? She decided to take a quick peek, knowing she wouldn’t sleep unless she checked on Gigi. The door creaked when she opened it, but the snores continued. Gigi’s body was such a tiny bump under the thick duvet that Ali feared she was shrinking. She backed out of the room. The door made a whiny screech, and Gigi stirred. Ali cursed her stupidity and waited for the snores to resume.
Instead, Gigi cleared her throat. “Don’t worry, Alison,” she whispered, her voice so weak Ali could barely make out what she was saying. “I’ll be fine.”
Ali ran into the room and planted a kiss on Gigi’s cheek. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“I don’t want to have to move again.” Ali knew she shouldn’t say this to Gigi; it wasn’t fair. But she needed Gigi to know she was counting on her. Whether or not Ali ever came from anywhere was wholly dependent on Gigi getting well.
“I know you don’t. Now let me sleep. I need my beauty rest.”
Ali crept out of the room. She didn’t shut the door until the snores began again in earnest. This time, they weren’t raspy. They were like the sigh of the wind passing through the trees, gentle waves lapping the shore. Hopeful, Ali smiled. Maybe she’d be like the heroes in her books. Maybe her adventure was to find a home at last.