Most Sundays Ali slept late, but not this one. Today was an important day in her quest to reunite the Sloanes. She got up early, ate a big breakfast to soothe her nervous belly, and wrote out a detailed list of the points she wanted to use to convince Andrew Sloane to come to Gigi’s party. The rest of the morning was spent turning into superheroes to give herself courage. It was too bad she couldn’t visit Andrew Sloane as Captain America. No one could say no to Captain America.
At exactly two forty-five, she slipped out of the house. She’d decided not to tell her parents about her mission in case they tried to stop her. Plus, it wasn’t like anyone would notice she was gone; her mother was at work, Digger was down in his workshop, and Gigi was fast asleep. She’d be back before anyone knew she was missing.
It was a short walk, past the old museum and Riverview Memorial Park. When she reached Harbour View High School, she turned right on Brunswick Place and climbed until she reached the last house on the dead-end street. The house was an imposing two stories, with a large porch, a bowed window, and a stone wall separating its narrow driveway from the yard of the house next door. She stared at the house for a full five minutes, listening to the cries of the seagulls fishing in the nearby river. “Go home! Go home!” they seemed to say. Instead, she climbed the eleven steps to the door and rang the bell.
A lady about her mother’s age opened the door. “Hello?”
“I’m Ali Sloane,” Ali blurted out.
The woman’s face crumpled like she was about to burst into tears. She took a deep breath, regained her composure, and gestured for Ali to come in. “I’m Alfie’s mother, Colleen. I’m so happy to finally meet you,” she said.
Ali stepped inside, relieved when Alfie bounded down the stairs.
“Hey.” He sounded nervous but excited. “Ali’s here to talk to Granddad, Mom.”
Colleen frowned. “Does he know she’s coming?”
Alfie shook his head.
His mother sighed and closed her eyes, then opened them and smiled. But it was an anxious smile, which made Ali’s queasy stomach lurch. “He’s in his study. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Alfie pulled Ali toward a nearby wall covered in family photographs. One pictured three couples: an older man and woman, along with two younger couples. They all wore red sweaters and big smiles. Ali studied the photo for a few seconds, surprised to realize it had been taken at Riverview Memorial Park; she could see the old museum in the distance. The idea that the Other Sloanes were taking family photos down the street from where she now lived made Ali’s heart squeeze with loneliness.
“Which one is your dad?” she asked Alfie.
“That’s him there.”
Ali leaned in. Teddy was a mixture of Alfie and Digger and shared their same lopsided grin.
“His real name was Edward,” said Alfie. “He was named after Gigi’s first husband, Edward Montgomery, who was Granddad’s real father. He died in the war.”
Ali stared at him in surprise. “I never knew Gigi had a husband who died in World War II.”
“Yeah. My granddad never met his real dad.”
Just like you never met your dad.
“Gigi’s second husband, Richard, was a distant Sloane cousin and became his stepfather. But he was more like a dad, because Gigi married him when my granddad was three years old.”
How did Alfie know all this? Ali slumped forward as she continued to stare at the photograph. It was like she didn’t know anything about her family.
“How old is your grandfather?” she finally asked.
“Almost seventy-six. My grandmother died a couple of years ago.” He pointed to the picture. “That’s my aunt Karen. She and my uncle Tim live over on the west side. They have eight-year-old twin girls named Jennie and Jordan. They’re funny. My mom calls them the life of the party.”
The word “party” brought Ali back to the task at hand. “I hope your granddad agrees to come to Gigi’s party.”
“Me too.”
“Ali!” Colleen called from somewhere at the back of the house. Ali bugged her eyes out at Alfie and walked toward the voice. Colleen gave her an encouraging smile as they passed in the hallway. “First door on the right,” she whispered. “You’ll be fine; he’s nice.”
Ali swallowed. If Andrew Sloane was so nice, why did he hate Digger and Gigi?
When Ali stepped into Andrew Sloane’s study, the first thing she observed, even before she saw the old man on the leather recliner, was all the photographs. They were everywhere and told the story of Andrew Sloane’s life, one picture at a time. There was a black-and-white photograph of a man in a uniform, who she assumed was Edward Montgomery. It made her catch her breath to look at him. If Edward Montgomery had lived, Alfie would be Alfie Montgomery, and Ali and Digger would never have been born. The rest of the photographs were of Andrew Sloane and his family through the years. There were tons of photos of Teddy. But the most surprising thing was that Gigi and Digger were in some of the pictures. Ali hadn’t expected that.
“You going to look at pictures all day, or are you going to come introduce yourself?”
Ali started, and stumbled her way over to where Andrew Sloane sat in front of the muted television set. On the screen, a man struggled to get his golf ball out of a sand trap.
“I’m Ali.”
Andrew Sloane nodded. He had a full head of thick white hair, a bulbous red nose, and the Sloane gray eyes. He wasn’t smiling, but he also wasn’t scowling, which she took as a good sign. He motioned for her to take a seat on a small chair nearby. For several minutes, neither spoke as they watched the golfer try to sink his ball in the hole.
ALI’S RULES FOR MAKING YOUR CASE
Andrew Sloane’s gruff voice broke the silence. “You look like her.”
Ali turned to him. “Like your mother?”
He shook his head. “No, like my grandmother. She lived with us during the war.” He picked up a bowl of pretzels from the table next to him and passed it to her. Even though she wasn’t hungry, Ali took one.
“Her name was Carrie, and she could spin a yarn. You look just like her. So . . . did my mother send you or did Digger?”
“Neither. They don’t know I’m here.”
Andrew Sloane nodded. “You’re brave.”
Ali pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket. Andrew Sloane pointed at it. “What’s that?”
“I wrote down a list of things I want to ask you so I don’t forget.”
There was a flicker of smile. “Go ahead.”
“Number one: I’m throwing your mother a hundredth birthday party, and I want all the Sloanes to be there.”
She chanced a glance. Andrew Sloane shook his head. “The answer is no.”
His refusal sucked the air out of the room. Ali struggled to catch her breath, and tried to come up with an argument that might change his mind. The answer couldn’t be no. The only rebuttal she could think of was the one thing she didn’t want to say. “She’s going to die soon.”
“We haven’t spoken in years. If I go to her birthday party just because she’s going to die soon, what kind of person would I be?”
“The forgiving kind?” Her response made him flinch.
She tried the next thing on her list. “Number two: could Alfie and the Sloanes come? Alfie wants to meet her and Digger.”
“If my family doesn’t want to disrespect Teddy’s memory, they shouldn’t go either.”
Stunned, Ali let Andrew Sloane’s horrible words sink in. She’d come for nothing. There was not going to be a happy ending. A tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly brushed it aside. She would not let Andrew Sloane see her cry.
“What’s next on this list of yours?”
Number three asked if he’d let her family stay in the house after Gigi died. Ali crumpled the paper. “Nothing.” A Maya Angelou quote popped into her head: “It’s one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, to forgive. Forgive everybody.” She knew Andrew Sloane’s inability to forgive Gigi and Digger must be chewing up his insides, because his refusal made her stomach feel like she’d swallowed poison.
“You need to forgive your mother and Digger, not for their sake, but for yours. Maya Angelou said it’s the greatest gift you can give yourself.”
“Is that what Maya Angelou said?” Andrew Sloane’s tone was mocking. He stood up and loomed over her, his face twisted into a sneer. “I’ll never have peace; why should they?”
Ali didn’t have an answer. She didn’t know Andrew Sloane, but she knew the smiling man in the photos was gone forever. She stood up as well, not wanting to stay another minute.
But Andrew Sloane wasn’t finished. “Whatever they’ve told you about your abilities? It’s all lies. The Sloanes are cursed. Nothing noble ever came from using unnatural powers.”
“Unnatural powers?” Ali stammered. She backed up until her hand was on the doorknob. She’d thrown a stick of dynamite into the room, inviting Andrew Sloane to Gigi’s party, and it had blown up in her face.
Andrew Sloane wagged a finger. “Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.”
She recognized the words immediately: they were the same ones Digger had used when Ali had suggested he meet Alfie, but now they were tinged with hatred, not love. It all made sense now. Andrew Sloane believed Copycat abilities were wicked, while Gigi and Digger considered them gifts. Nothing Ali could say would change his mind.
Ali flung open the door and fled. Past the living room, where she ignored Alfie when he called her name. Past the park, where the other Sloanes once took happy family pictures. She ran until she was back in her bedroom, huddled in bed with the blankets over her head. The Sloanes would never be reunited. Which meant Gigi and Digger would never meet Alfie and she would have to move again. She had failed.