Gigi’s great joy was feeding the neighborhood’s critters. When she stopped in to share her news, Ali wasn’t shocked to find a chubby red squirrel nose-deep in a pile of sunflower seeds on Gigi’s outstretched palm. Digger wasn’t a fan of the practice, probably because it was hard for him to control the urge to chase them. He called them rats with bushy tails. Ali worried that they’d bring strange germs inside with them. But it was Gigi’s house, and the family lived with her rent-free. She could do what she liked. To placate Digger and Ali, Gigi kept her bedroom door closed. So far, no pesky creature had tried to move in, but why would they when there was so much food in Gigi’s room?
Gigi’s room was magical, so different from the cruddy apartments Ali had grown up in, with their secondhand couches, torn upholstery, wobbly chairs, and mattresses of questionable origin. There were no scratched tabletops here; Gigi’s tables were covered with colorful scarves collected during her travels to Istanbul and Morocco. Oriental rugs overlapped on the floor, and the Oz-green walls were covered with paintings and photographs from the places Gigi had visited. One wall was a shrine to Gigi’s favorite old-time movie star, Walter Pidgeon, who was born in Saint John and was one of the biggest movie stars of the 1940s.
“He was even nominated for Academy Awards,” she’d said with pride.
Walter’s face appeared in no fewer than ten frames. He’d autographed them all the same way: To Gigi, with much love, Walter. Gigi had been in her twenties in the 1940s. Ali wondered if they’d ever met.
Gigi deposited the seeds and squirrel on the windowsill and waved her over. Despite Gigi’s flannel nightgown and the fact that she was cocooned within several layers of thick wool blankets and seated on a chintz-covered chair, she exuded the aura of a queen in her throne room: regal and elegant. A mug of hot chocolate still steamed on the small table next to her. A copy of The Golden Compass lay open on her lap. Ali made a mental note not to mention it, to avoid further spoilers.
Since the squirrel was still on the windowsill, Ali hopped onto Gigi’s bed so there was at least ten feet between herself and its germs. Though Ali had only lived with Gigi for two weeks, she already knew that some days were better for her great-grandmother than others. Today was a better day; her hair and makeup were done. Sure, the part was crooked, the rhinestone hair clips that held back her bangs were lopsided, and the blush was a little too pink, but at least she’d tried.
ALI’S ANIMAL RULES
Gigi leaned forward and peered at Ali over the top of her turquoise glasses. “So?”
“It went okay. Guess what? Alfie Sloane goes to Princess Elizabeth School!”
Gigi clapped her hands. “I thought he might!”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was in Saint John?” Ali demanded. She received a shrug.
“I’m old. I forgot.” Gigi said that a lot, but Ali didn’t buy it. Gigi knew everything. “Isn’t it amazing that you’ve both moved to Saint John at the same time?” Gigi continued. “It’s like it was meant to be. Did you meet him?”
“Not yet, but I will soon. He’s joining the debate club, so I am too.”
“I’m not surprised. Did you know I was a debater at university?”
Ali shook her head. She knew very little about Gigi’s life. Until two weeks ago, she’d never set foot in Saint John. Gigi had come to visit Ali’s family three times a year until the apartments became too ratty for even her adventurous spirit. After that she stayed in hotels and took them out to eat in fancy restaurants.
“Once I meet Alfie, I’ll bring him home to meet you.”
“You’re a sweet girl, Alison. Wouldn’t it be nice if he came to my hundredth birthday celebration?”
Gigi’s birthday was only weeks away. As far as Ali knew, there were no plans for a party, but she didn’t tell Gigi that.
“Do you think he’s a Copycat like you and Digger, or a Constant, like me?”
“It’s hard to say. He may not even know about his abilities. His grandfather never liked being a Copycat, and his mother has no powers.”
“But even if he didn’t know about them, wouldn’t they come out by themselves? You’re either a Copycat or you aren’t.”
Gigi took a sip of hot chocolate and shook her head. “It’s not that simple. For a Copycat to have full use of their powers, they need to be trained. If they aren’t taught properly, their skills wither on the vine, or they make reckless mistakes. Alfie’s grandfather, Andrew, hated being a Copycat. He rejected all attempts to help him, nor would he allow us to teach his children, Teddy and Karen, either. On the other hand, your grandfather Richard reveled in what he could do. He and I coached Digger. I think there are many Copycats in the world who don’t have a clue about who they really are. Not surprisingly, many of them are gifted mimics and wonderful actors.”
“I can mimic people, but I’m not a Copycat.”
“There are exceptions to every rule. Alfie might be one but not know that he is. We won’t be able to tell until we meet him. Don’t tell him about Copycats before then, just in case.”
“I won’t.” It felt strange that she hadn’t met Alfie yet and there was already a secret between them. “Was that what caused the Sloanes to fight?”
Gigi shook her head. “No. Andrew and Richard had different beliefs, but they loved each other. And then—”
“Teddy died.”
Gigi nodded.
“Will you tell me what happened? Digger won’t talk about it.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” Gigi saw the disappointment on Ali’s face and tried to soften the blow. “It’s hard to talk about.” She began to cough, a dry painful sound that went on too long and made Ali’s heart pound. Ali passed Gigi the cup of hot chocolate and watched her sip it between the spasmy rasps. Five long minutes later, the cough subsided, but Gigi was spent. Seconds later, her soft snores bubbled up and floated around the room.
As Ali watched her great-grandmother sleep, she had a wonderful idea. She would throw a hundredth birthday party for Gigi. A big one. She would invite everyone, including Alfie. She would have cake and a piñata. Soon Ali was napping too, dreaming of balloons.