I missed my old room. I missed Maybelle and John. I missed Mom’s sloppy hugs and Dad’s embarrassing teasing. I even missed Rosemary and her sniffly nose and sniffly comments.
Meanwhile, I was stuck with Scarlet’s life. I’d left the Toxic Sunset on Scarlet’s white dresser, leaning against the wall. It didn’t look very good in her room. That fact gave me a kind of grim satisfaction. If we ever switched back, she could keep the painting as a reminder.
It was an angry painting, and it reminded me a little of the angry landscapes in Ben’s video games. Maybe he really would like it, I thought.
So after dinner, which turned out to be something called broiled Arctic char with wilted arugula, I took the painting to Ben’s room. I could hear the bangs and crashes of a game through the closed door. I knocked.
“What?” Ben shouted.
“It’s Scarlet.”
“What do you want?”
“Can you open the door?”
The war noises stopped as he paused the game and opened the door. “Is it your math homework? I told you, I don’t remember any of that stuff.”
“It’s not math. It’s this.” I showed him the painting.
“What about it?”
“Do you like it? It’s for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
I stepped into his room, which was almost as neat as Scarlet’s, only blue instead of white. “I painted this for you. Or actually, my friend Lavender painted it and I worked on it some too. I thought it would look good in your room.”
He took the painting and held it up against a blank blue wall. “You painted this? It doesn’t look like something you’d even touch.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I know. But I’m trying to explore the dark corners of my mind.”
He looked at me with new respect. “So what does it mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“The painting.”
“Oh.” What did it mean? When I’d started painting it I thought it meant something about how industry was hurting the environment. But there was more to it than that.
“It means I’m not feeling so happy,” I said.
“What’s wrong?”
“I miss my old life,” I said. “But I don’t know how to get it back.”
He had no idea what I was talking about. There was no way he could really understand. But he surprised me.
“I know how you feel,” he said. “I miss my old life too, before Dad and Leigh got married. It’s not that Leigh’s so bad. But I miss my mom.”
“You don’t have to defend Leigh to me,” I said. “She’s so worried about trying to please your dad she doesn’t have much energy left to be a mother.”
“Yeah, but at least she cares about you.” Ben sat down hard on his bed, the springs bouncing under his weight. “My dad doesn’t care about anybody but himself. I’m pretty sure that’s why my mom left.”
“He’s a bully,” I said.
He looked up at me. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“I think he wants us to fight,” I said. “He can control us that way. But what if we tried to get along better? We could be nicer to each other, and help each other out. That might make living in this family a little easier.”
I thought about my mother and Rosemary, and the careless way I’d treated them. I’d never done much to make my own family happier. It was easier to see the problems when they belonged to somebody else’s family.
“You know, when Dad and Leigh got married, I thought the worst part about it was going to be putting up with you, Princess,” Ben said. “But I’m starting to think you’re not so bad.”
Not exactly high praise, but it was a start.
“Thanks for the painting,” he added. He pulled a toolbox out of his closet and got busy hanging it up on his wall.
Scarlet called me late that night.
“Charlie’s going to ask Scarlet to the Spooktacular,” she told me. “Which, right now, means you.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “I don’t want to go with him. I want to go with John.”
“Did John ask you?”
“No.”
“I told Charlie you’d say yes,” Scarlet said.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I really want to go with him.”
“But — he’s going to ask me.”
“He’s not asking you. He’s asking Scarlet.”
“But he thinks I’m Scarlet!”
“I know.”
“This makes me very queasy,” I said.
“Listen,” Scarlet said. “I’ve thought about this a lot. And there’s nothing else to do. When Charlie asks you to the dance, say yes. Then we’ll cross our fingers and hope that by Saturday night, we’ve switched bodies again.”
“But we have no reason to think that will happen,” I said.
“We’ve just got to have faith. We’ve got to believe that somehow it will all work out.”
“Do you believe that?” I asked.
“Not really,” Scarlet admitted.
“The Think System,” I said.
“What?”
“Like in the musical,” I explained. “Harold Hill’s patented Think System. We’ll have to try it. Right now it’s all we’ve got.”
“That’s not much.”
“I know it isn’t.”
“I’d better go,” she said. “Your mom’s knocking on the door.”
“Kiss her good night for me,” I said. “And Dad too.”
“I will,” Scarlet said. “Kiss my mom for me.”
“Okay,” I said. “Oh, and, um — I gave the Toxic Sunset to Ben.”
“You did? Why would you do that?”
“I thought he would like it.”
“What did he do, spit on it? Kick a hole through it?”
“No. He thanked me.”
She was silent for a second. “That’s it? He just said ‘thank you’?”
“And then we had a little talk. I think he’s lonely, Scarlet.”
“Of course he is,” Scarlet scoffed. “He’s mean; he’s gross; he’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Why would anybody like him?”
“He’s not so bad if you take the time to talk to him.”
“That sound you don’t hear is my eyes rolling.”
“Maybe you never noticed, but Steve is even meaner to Ben than he is to you.”
“And I’m supposed to care … why?”
“Because if you think about it, you and Ben are on the same team. You can help each other, defend each other —”
“Yeah, and then he’ll turn on me.”
“I don’t think he will,” I said. “I think he needs you.”
She was quiet again.
“And maybe you need him,” I added.
“Mom’s not very helpful.”
“No, she isn’t.”
“I’ll think about it,” Scarlet said. “In the meantime, you’re there and I’m here, and we don’t know how to change it.”
“That’s true. But whatever happens, we have each other.”
“We have each other.”
Small comfort. But a comfort nevertheless.
Lavender’s words still rang in my head when I woke up the next morning. Was it really true that Ben needed me?
I tried to imagine life at home without Ben and me sniping at each other. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be a lot better.
I also thought about Lavender’s feelings about the way I’d been dressing lately. Maybe I had gone a little too far too quickly. I wore sneakers instead of the platforms — I was always tripping in those anyway. But I still fixed her hair nicely and wore the new jeans. Lavender was just going to have to get used to looking good. And I’d teach her how to put in contact lenses.
She was waiting for me at her locker. I’d texted her some French phrases the night before to help her get through class, spelled phonetically so she’d know how to pronounce them. And she’d sent me some Spanish phrases in return.<
br />
“Bonjour, Lavender, comment allez-vous?”
She blinked at me. Still sleepy, I guess. Then she said, “Oh! I get it. Très bien, thanks. ¿Cómo éstas?”
“Très bien, merci. Don’t forget the merci.”
“Merci, merci. Now your turn: Buenos días, Scarlet. ¿Cómo estás?”
A little more language practice and we were ready for the day. “Let me know if anything happens with Charlie,” I told her.
“I will. And don’t flirt too much with John!”
“But I’m being you when I flirt with John.”
“It still bugs me,” Lavender said.
“Schmitzy!” Maybelle rushed up to me before art class later that day, her face flushed and smiling. “He asked me!”
“Who?” I asked. “Ian?”
Maybelle nodded. “He was afraid to ask unless he knew for sure I didn’t have another date.”
“So the note really was from him?”
“Yep.”
Whew. I was relieved that Zoe wasn’t behind it. But what would happen when word got out that Ian had asked Maybelle to the Spooktacular and not Zoe? I shuddered to think. An unhappy Zoe was a mean Zoe.
“Have you told anyone else?” I asked.
“Who else would I tell?” Maybelle said. “You’re my best friend.”
“Maybe you should keep the news quiet for the rest of the day,” I suggested. The longer it took for Zoe to find out, the less time she’d have for planning revenge.
“Okay,” Maybelle said. “But why? Oh.” She frowned. “Schmitzy, you don’t have a date yet, do you? You can come with me and Ian. We’ll all go together. John will be there too. You can dance with him.”
Everyone had a date except for me. “You and Ian go alone. I’m sure he doesn’t want me hanging around.”
“He will if he wants me hanging around,” Maybelle said. “The Spooktacular wouldn’t be fun without you.” Her face suddenly brightened at something behind my back.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and there stood John Obrycki.
“I’ve got to run,” Maybelle said, giggling. “See you later.” She disappeared into the art room.
“Hi, John,” I said.
“Hi, Lavender.” John’s cheek twitched. “I made this for you.” He opened his hand to show me a folded-paper fortune-teller.
Most people made fortune-tellers with four colors on the outside, eight numbers on the inside, and a different fortune under each number. You picked a color — say, red. The person telling your fortune moved the paper contraption with his fingers, opening and closing the paper three times — R-E-D. Then you picked a number — say, two — and the fortune-teller moved the paper again, twice, counting it out, one-two. You looked inside and lifted a flap. Your fortune was written underneath.
John’s fortune-teller was different. Instead of colors on the four outside squares, he’d drawn flowers. The purple one was a lavender flower. I recognized it from the wrapper on the lavender soap my mother used.
“That’s the prettiest fortune-teller I ever saw,” I said.
He slipped the fortune-teller over his fingers and thumbs. “Look inside. It tells a special fortune just for you.”
Each flap had a number, one through eight.
“Lift the flaps in order,” John said. “Starting with Number One.” I reached inside and lifted the flap marked 1. Underneath it said, Will.
“Keep going,” John prompted.
I picked up flap number 2. It said, You.
Then Go,
I didn’t know what to say. This was one of the sweetest things I’d ever seen. But it wasn’t meant for me, not really. It was meant for Lavender.
“So — will you?” He studied my face for an answer. I could see the nervousness and worry in his eyes, and that made the whole thing even sweeter. “Did it read in the right order? Maybe I folded the paper wrong —”
“You folded it perfectly,” I told him.
“And?”
I had to answer for Lavender. She’d said on the phone that she wanted to go with John. And she’d be a fool to say no.
“The answer is yes. I’d love to go to the dance with you.”
“Great!” He flashed a goofy grin. “Well, see you later.” He ran down the hall, jumping up to tap the Exit sign with his hand on the way.
My dream was to go to the Spooktacular with Charlie. But if I couldn’t have that — if I was still stuck in Lavender’s body by then — a girl could do a lot worse than John.
“I’ve got a little present to pass along to you,” Scarlet said. “Hold out your hand.”
I held out my hand. She dropped a beautifully decorated origami fortune-teller into my palm. I knew right away it was from John. Origami, for one thing. And the daisy. He always drew his daisies in red, like hearts. But it was the purple sprig of lavender that really got me.
I read the question buried under the flaps and flushed red. “He asked you?”
“He asked you,” Scarlet replied.
“Did his cheek twitch?” I asked. “When he asked you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean like this.” I demonstrated a John cheek twitch. I’d been practicing it in the mirror, just for kicks.
“Yeah, a little,” Scarlet said. “What’s up with that?”
“A nervous tic. Isn’t it cute?”
“What about Charlie?” Scarlet asked. “Did he ask you yet?”
“This morning,” I replied. “In the library.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. “What did he say? Tell me every detail.”
I set the scene for her. Charlie had approached me in the library, hiding behind his hair and obviously nervous. He wouldn’t let me see his eyes, but his hands were trembling just the tiniest bit. He said, “Scarlet, can I ask you something?” It still took me a second to get used to being called Scarlet. I was about to say, “Sure,” when he cleared his throat really loudly and said, “Um, Scarlet?” His voice cracked just at that moment, and the librarian shushed him.
“How dare she?” the real Scarlet said to me now. “How dare she shush a boy at such a crucial moment!”
“Ms. Aguilar didn’t know it was a crucial moment. Anyway, after that he whispered, because she was giving us the stinkeye.”
“And? What did he whisper?” Scarlet was really worked up about this date thing.
“He said, ‘Would you like to go to the Spooktacular? With me, I mean?’ ”
“Those were his exact words?”
“Exact words.”
She leaned back and dreamily mouthed the words to herself — committing them to memory, I suppose. Then she snapped back to reality. “So you said yes, of course. Please tell me you said yes, Lavender.”
“Actually, I said, ‘I’ll go with you if you shave your head and dye it blue.’ ”
“You did not.” The blood drained out of her face.
“No, I didn’t.” I couldn’t keep teasing her when I saw how much this meant to her. “I said yes, that would be nice, blabbity blah.”
“I wish I could have been there,” Scarlet said.
“I know how you feel,” I said. “I wish I could have seen John’s cheek twitch.”
“So here we are,” Scarlet said. “We both have dates to the dance. Just not the right ones.”
“Yeah.” I fiddled with the fortune-teller John had made. I wished it really could tell the future.
“Scarlet! You’ll never guess what I heard,” Zoe said during study hall. The study hall teacher had left us on our honor to be quiet, the fool.
“What?” I asked.
“Lavender Schmitz is going to the Halloween Spooktacular,” Zoe said.
“With a date,” Kelsey chimed in.
“Gee, that’s shocking,” I said.
“I know,” Zoe said, my sarcasm whizzing over her head. “Of course, her date is a loser. But even John Obrycki can do better than Lavender.”
“Do you have a date yet, Zoe?” I asked.
She bristled. “Not officially. But Ian Colburn is going to ask me any minute. It’s all over the school.”
“He’s just trying to work up the courage,” Kelsey said.
“Keep telling yourself that,” I mumbled.
“What about you, Scarlet?” Zoe asked. “Who are you going with?”
“As if you don’t know,” I said. Someone had seen Charlie whispering to me in the library and soon everybody was talking about it. The gossip in our school was unbelievable.
“You can’t trust everything you hear,” Zoe said. “I’d like to get the news directly from you.”
“You used to tell us everything,” Kelsey said.
“You’re anti-Charlie,” I told them. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“I’m not anti-Charlie,” Zoe said. “I just think you should leave him to the theater geeks and go with someone like Ian. Not Ian himself, of course — I’ve got dibs — but someone like him.”
“Zoe, you forget — Scarlet’s one of the theater geeks herself now,” Kelsey said.
“Oh, that’s right,” Zoe said. “How is it in the chorus?”
“Superb,” I said.
Whenever I said something un-Scarlet-ish, Zoe paused to study me as if she wasn’t sure she knew me anymore. And, of course, she didn’t. I could see her trying to shake off the weird feeling she was getting from me.
“You know what? I don’t care who you go to the dance with,” she finally said. “Charlie’s adorable. I admit it. Let’s call a truce. The three of us and our dates will all go to the dance together. Okay?”
I leaned back and crossed my long legs. For the first time in my life, crossing my legs felt natural. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”
There was that look again. My snappy comebacks were stunning Zoe silent. Temporarily.
Not Kelsey, though. Nothing could quiet her. “Because,” Kelsey explained, “Zoe has an excellent idea. Something that will make the dance extra fun.”
I uncrossed my legs and leaned forward. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
“People like Lavender going to the dance — with dates,” Zoe said. “It’s not right. It will ruin the dance.”
Switched at Birthday Page 12