If I Were You

by Leslie Margolis

  That night I took the platter home and presented it to my parents at dinner. Back then we used to have family dinners on occassion.

  Both of them oohed and aahed over the platter, like it was the most amazing thing I’d ever made. And it was.

  “This is incredible,” my mom said. “Lovely. I’m so proud of you, Melody.”

  “Maybe you have a future as an artist,” said my dad.

  Kyle laughed and said, “She probably used stencils to make those things. They’re too perfect.”

  “I did not use stencils,” I said, annoyed even though a small part of me gloated over the fact that he assumed I needed extra help to make the images look so good.

  “Whatever,” Kyle mumbled, scowling as usual.

  My mom said, “Well, either way, it’s lovely, Melo. Your color choices are beautiful. You have an amazing eye. Maybe we should redo the den in this palette.”

  “I didn’t use stencils,” I repeated, except no one was listening anymore.

  My parents were back to talking about the kitchen remodel and where we’d go for Christmas—Hawaii again or Jackson Hole for some skiing?

  Someone put the platter in the back of a cabinet and I never saw it again.

  I don’t know why this is all coming up now. Maybe because my life is so much better now that I’m Katie. I’m the oldest and I’ve got two brothers, both of them sweethearts.

  It’s six o’clock in the morning and I can hear them playing Rocket Ship Dogs downstairs. It’s a game we invented last night. The boys pretend to be dogs on rocket ships, zooming through space in search of gigantic atomic bones. It was fun the first time we played, but now, at this early hour? Not so much.

  I roll over and bury my head under my pillow. I can still hear them barking, but it’s a little better this way. And even though they woke me up, I’m happy to hear them playing with the dog masks I made for them last night. I love drawing dogs. I love drawing, period.

  Soon my door opens a crack and Anya peeks her head in.

  “Hey, Katie? Do you mind going downstairs and telling the boys to stop whatever they’re doing? They’re being way too loud and we had a really late night.”

  I sit up in my bed, stunned and speechless. I know they had a late night. I babysat for the boys. Again. For free!

  And I had a late night, too. I fell asleep in front of the TV. TV I wasn’t supposed to be watching, as Anya and Jeff both told me when they woke me up. But that’s beside the point.

  I should be allowed to watch a little television. It’s summer. I’ve babysat for five nights in a row. And I’m tired, too. I should be allowed to sleep. Ryan and Reese are not my kids. In fact, I’m kind of a kid, too. I need my rest. But I don’t say any of this. Instead, I throw back the covers and wander downstairs.

  “Hey, guys?” I whisper. “Let’s play a new game. It’s called superquiet bunnies.”

  KATIE

  Kyle Comes Home

  It’s August first and Kyle is on break from his summer classes. He’s home for two whole days and I’m excited because this house is getting lonely. Especially since Kevin and I are no longer speaking. We had this whole fight last night about how he’s not being the boyfriend he’s supposed to be. And according to him, I’ve changed in a major way, too. I had to pretend to not know what he was talking about, even though of course I do.

  Obviously I am no mellow Melody. But I look like her and I sound like her and I live in her house. I’ve been able to fool everyone else, so Kevin doesn’t know what he’s talking about. At least I hope he doesn’t. I don’t know what’ll happen if anyone finds out about my switch with Melody. Nothing good, I am sure. So it’s totally for the best that Kevin and I are taking a break.

  Debbie and I are speeding on the freeway, on our way to pick up Kyle at the airport. The music is blasting way too loud and we don’t attempt to talk. She’s in an awful mood and I’m afraid to say a word. I heard Debbie yelling on the phone this morning, fighting with Melody’s dad because he’s not home yet. When she hung up I asked her if everything was okay and she said, “Fine,” not wanting to talk. I probably shouldn’t have asked. I probably should’ve pretended I hadn’t heard a thing.

  By the time we get to the airport Kyle is curbside with his shiny silver suitcase next to him. He’s wearing jeans and a shirt with a collar, tucked in. His hair is slicked back and his glasses are oversize. On some people they’d look cute and trendy, but Kyle looks like an extra in the remake of Revenge of the Nerds. At least he’s not wearing a pocket protector. He looks younger than how I remember him and not exactly happy, maybe because we’re so late.

  I jump out of the car as soon as Debbie puts it into park and wrap my arms around him. “Kyle!” I yell. “Sorry to keep you waiting, bro. Great to see you.”

  He doesn’t hug me back and seems totally freaked out. “What did you call me?” he asks.

  “Bro,” I reply. Then I take a few steps away because clearly this isn’t how Melody would do things. Still, I can’t help but add, “I’ve missed you.”

  “Why?” he asks. “It’s not like you need help with homework. It’s still summer, last I checked. Unless you failed sixth grade and need to go to summer school.”

  I can’t tell if Kyle’s joking or not. If so, it’s not funny. If not, it’s pretty mean. Either way, I can’t think of a good response.

  Debbie is out of the car and opening the trunk. She must’ve heard what he said and I expect her to leap to my defense, but the only thing she says is, “Welcome back, Kyle.” Then she leans in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  They are the same height and they have the same eyes, too—icy-cold blue.

  Kevin hoists his suitcase into the trunk and it barely fits.

  Debbie slams the trunk closed and gets back into the driver’s seat, leaving me and Kyle on the curb.

  I wait for Kyle to get into the backseat.

  Kyle waits for me to crawl in back.

  “I’ve just been on a plane for six hours in coach. I’m sitting in front,” Kyle says. He has a point, but he doesn’t have to be so rude about it.

  “Why are you being so mean?” I ask.

  Kyle looks at me, completely shocked. “This is how I always act,” he says.

  I am not sure how to reply. I knew Melody and Kyle didn’t get along so well, but I never realized things were this bad.

  “Can you stop fighting and get in the car?” Debbie asks. “We need to get on the freeway before rush hour.”

  I huff and climb into the backseat. Kyle and Melody were never superclose. Kyle is a guy who keeps to himself, doing his own mysterious genius-big-brother thing. But I can’t figure out why he’s so prickly. It makes no sense. Melody is his little sister and he hasn’t seen her—me—in ages.

  Debbie asks, “How’s school?” as she pulls away from the curb.

  “Fine,” says Kyle. Then he turns up the radio and pulls out his phone and starts to text.

  “Um, are we going out for dinner or eating at home?” I ask. I’m hoping we get to go out. There’s no good food at Melody’s house. At the same time, though, whenever we go out Debbie watches me like a hawk and usually criticizes my order. It’s kind of a lose-lose situation.

  “I’m not hungry,” Debbie says. “You kids can do whatever you want.”

  “I have plans,” says Kyle.

  When we get back to the house, Kyle heads for his room and slams the door closed behind him. Debbie goes to her room and does the same. I am hungry, so I head to the kitchen and rifle through the cabinets in search of something delicious. As usual, I don’t find a thing that I actually want to eat—only packages of chia seeds, quinoa, and brown rice. Luckily, though, there’s a fancy-looking gift basket hidden in the back of the fridge behind the celery sticks. I pull it out and unwrap it, finding crackers and a wedge of smoked cheddar cheese. It’s delicious.

  Soon Debbie joins me in the kitchen. “Want one?” I ask, offering her the box of crackers.

  “No, thank
s,” she says, sitting at the counter with a magazine. “And don’t eat too many of those.”

  “I won’t,” I say with my mouth full.

  Debbie rolls her eyes.

  Then something crazy happens. Nick, Melody’s dad, appears and kisses me on the head. “Hi, sweetie. How’ve you been?”

  “Great,” I say. And wait for another question, or something, because he hasn’t been around for the entire summer. This is the first time I’ve seen the guy. But another question doesn’t come.

  He and Debbie don’t even say hello. Suddenly it feels very chilly in this kitchen.

  Soon Debbie stands and heads to the top of the steps and yells, “Kyle, your father’s home!”

  Kyle comes downstairs and he and his dad shake hands and make small talk. Now we’re all in the kitchen together. Except Nick still hasn’t kissed Debbie hello and she barely acknowledges his presence. She doesn’t even look up from the fashion magazine she’s flipping through.

  “Look, Debbie. I don’t think I can make it for dinner tonight, okay? I’m exhausted,” Nick says.

  “Kyle’s got plans, anyway, but remember, he’s only here for two nights,” says Debbie.

  “Let’s try for tomorrow,” Nick says as he loosens his tie. “I’ll make reservations somewhere good.”

  “I can’t tomorrow night,” says Kyle.

  He takes a handful of crackers and shoves them in his mouth. Then he polishes off the rest of the cheese. Debbie watches but doesn’t tell him to be careful of carbs or whatever. She doesn’t say a word about what he’s eating and this annoys me.

  Nick’s smile is too stiff, too wide, like he’s in pain. “How’s school?”

  “Good,” says Kyle.

  “Keeping up the grades?”

  “Of course,” says Kyle. He’s looking at his cell phone, hardly paying attention to his dad, but no one seems to mind.

  A minute later Nick gets a call, and wanders out of the room to take it.

  Everyone else leaves, too.

  I finish the crackers and head upstairs into Melody’s room. It’s messy now, something Debbie isn’t happy about. But I like it—it looks more lived in. This whole house is too perfect-looking considering how imperfect things are. Melody never said a word about what it’s really like around here. Or maybe she tried to but I refused to hear it. I was so convinced she was the lucky one because she’s so pretty and surrounded by so much pretty stuff. I’d no idea what her life was really like.

  I gaze at myself in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the closet door. My blond curls are silky smooth and bouncy. I’ve got big green eyes and a curvy grown-up body. I can see how this is a problem. People only seeing what’s on the outside. I’ve got a lot going on inside. Melody does, too. She’s smart and a great artist and she’s holding it together in this messed-up family. How is she always so cheerful and sweet and optimistic? I wish I could ask her.

  I hear a thunderclap that shakes the whole house. Looking outside, I see lightning, then more thunder and then rain—sheets and sheets of it.

  Whenever it rained when we were younger, Melody would run outside and move the snails and earthworms out of harm’s way, hiding them under hedges and whatnot. She was protecting them from Kyle, she said, who’d step on them simply to hear the crunch of their shells and to see the gooeyness on the bottom of his shoe. I always thought she was joking. Now I’m not so sure.

  Kyle is grown up now but he still seems like the type of guy who’d step on snails for fun. I wonder why Melody didn’t ever tell me how bad things were. How rude her brother is and how weird her mom is about stuff. And how her dad’s just absent …

  It’s cold in this house and I’m not talking about the temperature. Tonight Melody’s house is full, meaning everyone is home. Yet it’s supersilent. Everyone is in separate rooms, no one talking or interacting. It’s weird and I feel kind of trapped. Imprisoned in this body. I miss the smell of peanut butter and blueberry jam. I’d make myself a sandwich if I could, except there is no jam in this house. It’s too high in sugar.

  I’m sick of green smoothies for breakfast.

  I want real food, but that’s not it.

  I know I used to make fun of Melody and her pretend problems, but now I see how unfair I’ve been. Her problems are real, and worse than that, her problems are now my problems.

  As I stare out at the rain I realize I’m close to tears.

  I miss the real Melody.

  I miss my mom and Jeff and Reese and Ryan, too.

  I miss my messy, imperfect life. And more than anything else, I want to go home.

  MELODY

  Back on the Bus

  The twins keep begging me to bring them to the beach even though I just took them four days ago. I don’t have it in me to wrangle with them again. Not today. I love the boys, but they are intense and exhausting and I need some space because they are driving me bananas. Anya and Jeff are, too. It’s been fun being part of a big happy family, but the Millers are not perfect. No family is. My own included, but I still miss them.

  My plan is to take the beach bus solo, get to Crescent Moon Bay, and go for a long walk. Being at the beach always makes me feel better, and summer is practically over.

  When I step onto the bus I’m surprised to see someone in my regular seat. Me. I mean Katie in my body.

  As soon as Katie spots me, she gives me a little smile.

  “Hey. Are you waiting for Kevin?” I ask.

  “No,” she says, looking out the window. “I’m here on my own.”

  “Oh. Me, too.” I’m standing over her awkwardly and I should probably move on and find a seat, but I don’t want to.

  “Um, want to sit down?” she asks, moving her backpack to make room.

  A wave of relief rushes through me as I take the seat.

  It’s funny, being here next to Katie on the beach bus. It feels like the beginning of summer, I mean other than the fact that we are in each other’s bodies. Everything else is the same. The bus has the same old salami-and-baked-sweat smell, and my thighs are already sticking to the seats. Last night’s rain cleared away the smog, so I can see the mountains in the distance. I’ve missed Katie, I realize. Missed what could’ve been a fun adventure for us if only we’d stuck together.

  As the bus pulls away from the curb I ask, “How’ve you been?”

  I expect Katie to gloat and tell me how fabulous she is and how she’s absolutely thrilled to be living my life. But she doesn’t say any of that. Instead she starts to cry.

  KATIE

  Tears and Fears

  Something about seeing Melody in my body gets me choked up inside and I can’t help but be superemotional.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, worried.

  “Nothing,” I say. I try to wipe away the tears but they keep coming and they keep coming fast. “Everything! I am so happy to see you.” I give Melody a huge hug. I am shaking—I can’t help myself. “Can we be friends again? I’ve missed you so much. I’m sorry for being bossy. I’m sorry for telling you your life is perfect. It is so not perfect.”

  She pulls back and stares straight at me. “What’s going on?” she asks.

  As the bus moves away from the curb I tell her everything—all about the workouts and the shopping, and the lousy visit with Kyle, and Kevin’s cherry-flavored ChapStick kisses and surfing obsession. She listens in silence to each of my complaints about her world. And then I start to feel bad because I’m ragging on practically every detail of her life.

  “No offense,” I say, quickly. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry. I wish I’d understood before.”

  Melody shakes her head. “No, it’s good to hear you say it. I told you my life wasn’t perfect.”

  “You tried to but I never listened. And worse than that, I’ve been awful. I’m so sorry, Melo.”

  She smiles and says, “It’s okay, Katie. I must admit, being you isn’t so great, either. Ryan and Reese are exhausting. And you never told me how much you had to baby
sit for them. And that you didn’t get paid, like, ever.”

  “I was embarrassed,” I say, shifting in my seat. “Because maybe there’s something wrong with my mom and Jeff for asking me all the time. Or maybe there’s something wrong with me for getting so upset about it.”

  “Every once in a while would be fine, but your mom asks you to babysit every day,” Melody says.

  “I know.”

  “And the twins get up so early.”

  “I know!”

  “And they are so loud. Plus, they never let up with the fighting,” says Melody.

  I nod, staring out the window. We are winding our way through the canyon and heading toward the tunnel. “Yeah, everything you’re saying is true, but I still miss my life.”

  “I miss my life, too,” says Melody. She glances at me nervously. “Um, want to switch back?”

  “Wait, what?” I’m so surprised, I’m not sure what to say. Am I ready to go back to my old life? Ready to move back into my small, messy house? Ready to take care of the twins again, and be my not-so-gorgeous self? The funny thing is, I think I am. “Do you think we’ll even be able to switch back?” I wonder.

  She shrugs. “It’s worth a shot, right? I mean, why not try? It should work if we both want it to.”

  “Okay,” I say, squirming in my seat. “Let’s try.”

  Melody grabs my hand and squeezes. I’m feeling good about this. Hopeful. We are getting closer to the tunnel and this could be the moment.

  “Are you ready?” she asks.

  I nod and close my eyes and hold my breath and wish to be myself again with all of my might.

  The tunnel feels cold and I shiver, get goose bumps, even. Then I feel that familiar tingling sensation. Things are shifting and changing. Time is speeding up. The bus propels us forward. It’s working it’s working it’s working.

  At least I hope it is.

  I feel someone beside me and I hope it’s Melody.

  Moments later I feel the warmth of the sun. Once I’m absolutely positive that we’re out of the tunnel I open my eyes and take a breath.

  Up ahead I see the sun and the sky and Crescent Moon Bay in all its glory. The sand and the ocean—the magic of the beach is right in front of us.