The Switch Up by Katy Cannon

Author:Katy Cannon [Katy Cannon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788951456
Publisher: Stripes Publishing
Published: 2019-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

Monday morning I was fizzing with excitement. I chose my outfit with care – skinny jeans, and one of Alice’s hilarious T-shirts over a crop top I’d bought on my shopping trip. (Obviously the T-shirt was getting shoved in my bag the moment Mabel was out of sight.) I’d also made good use of the make-up I’d bought when we were shopping. I’d stuck with a fairly neutral, believable Alice look for now, but I had a full stash of stuff with me for taking it up a notch before I got to the theatre.

At the theatre, I’d be Willa again, not Alice. Full-on, real me, Willa.

I couldn’t wait.

Mabel looked amused as she walked me to the Tube to meet Hal. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite so excited about science camp,” she said. “And I was the quintessential science nerd in school.”

I shrugged, and tried to look a little more nonchalant. “It’s just nice to be doing something productive with my summer,” I said virtuously, in my best Alice voice.

Hal was already waiting for us by the entrance so, after going over the plan one last time for luck, Mabel waved us goodbye and we headed down into the Underground.

I snagged a seat on the first train that came along, and Hal sat down opposite me, looking nervous.

“It’s going to be fine,” I assured him, fishing in my bag for my brow kit. “I’ve got this whole thing worked out.” For some reason, that just made him look more nervous.

I was totally right, though. We arrived at our stop in plenty of time, and I waved him into the Queen Anne campus before pulling off Alice’s ‘science camp’ T-shirt, getting out my phone and double-checking the route to the Old Row Theatre.

Despite being early, I wasn’t the first one there – in fact, I was one of the last. Seemed like everyone else was just as eager as me. As we all waited to check in with a girl with blue hair sitting at a table in the foyer, I eyed up the competition.

There was a group of four girls who looked a year or so older than me, all in almost-matching outfits, so I figured they were friends. There were two guys, but that was all. One lounged with confidence against the stair banister, checking his teeth in the selfie camera on his phone. The other was shorter and skinnier than me, with a shock of bright red hair – not ginger, actually dyed red – who was rifling through his satchel. Then there were another five individual girls, ranging in age from around thirteen to sixteen, all looking a little nervous – you know, eyes wide as they took in all the theatre posters, or picking at their nail varnish as they stared at their feet.

Nobody who’d be a problem, I decided.

Finally it was my turn to register. “Hi, I’m Willa Martyn,” I said, handing over my registration paperwork. The name felt even stranger to say than it normally would.

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