The Swap by Megan Shull

Author:Megan Shull
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-06-27T16:00:00+00:00

Claire’s house is amazing and huge and smells like popcorn, and I can already hear faint laughter and girl shrieking coming from somewhere. I follow Claire’s mom through the living room, past Claire’s dad and little brothers, who are parked in front of the huge flat screen. I squint to read the score: Notre Dame twenty-three, Michigan sixteen.

“Yeah buddy, beast mode!” escapes my lips as I watch a Notre Dame fullback blast off running up the right sideline. It’s pretty much a fact that my brothers are chilling out, relaxing on the couch right now, watching this. “Dude’s a tank!” I say, pumping my fist before I quickly remember that . . .

“Wow! I love it! A girl who loves football!” Claire’s mom says, surprised and smiling. “How awesome is that!”

I look at her and flash a smile. “I could sit up here and watch a little bit,” I offer. I had to try, right?

Claire’s mom laughs. “Oh, but then you’d miss all the fun! If you want, I can put your gift with the other presents, or you can put it right over on the table.” She gestures to the kitchen table stacked with a huge mound of colorfully wrapped presents, glittery eye-catching gift bags, and a tower of boxes tied up in two giant ribbons. I take a tentative step into the kitchen and set down Summer’s frilly bag.

I shove my hands deep into my new jeans pockets. Claire’s mom is just standing there, smiling at me.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. “It’s just, your hair—I can’t stop staring! It’s such a beautiful deep red hue.” She pauses, eyes bright. “I bet you get that a lot, huh?”

I shrug both my shoulders. “Sort of,” I answer.

Claire’s mom leads me down a long bright-yellow hallway with a billon framed family photos. She talks as we turn the corner and head down a set of stairs. “We have a lot of food, Elle, I hope you’re hungry! Pizza, dip and chips, and my personal favorite, a yummy salad!” She laughs. “Tons of junk and cake, lots of cake! Do you like at least one of those things?”

“Yes, ma’am,” it slips. “I mean, uhh, yeah, thanks,” I say, sounding flustered.

When I turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I’m not expecting it. The room is lit up by a glittery disco ball hanging from the ceiling and music is blaring from two towering speakers—it’s loud. Bodies are sprawled out everywhere, two to a beanbag chair, four draped across couches, two playing Dance Dance Revolution in front of a flat screen on the thick, shaggy carpet. I think I’m the only one not dressed in pajama bottoms and a soccer T-shirt and crazy striped socks.

I take a step backward, not forward, and consider running again.

Get me outta here!

My throat feels hot and tight. I wish I was at Owen’s, crushing Call of Duty. Instead I’m standing on the edge of slumber-party mania, with a bunch of girls I recognize from school, all of them seventh graders.

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