Switch

by Carol Snow

  "You got croissants? Awesome."

  And then the most amazing thing happened. Consuela smiled.

  Consuela carried a tray with the Sealys' lunches to the outdoor teak table. She set their places and put up the umbrella. She had already put out two pitchers: one of iced tea, the other of chocolate milk.

  The ocean was a brilliant blue, the seagull calls like mermaid music. Beyond the breakers, a seal popped its head out and then dove back into the depths. It was like a setting out of a magazine, and for a moment I forgot that I was supposed to be eating my lunch in Sandyland High's boxy cafeteria with the acoustic tiles and a view of the parking lot.

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  I could get used to this.

  I helped the boys scoot their big wooden chairs closer to the table. They were at eye level to their lunches, but they knew better than to complain. Mr. Sealy held a newspaper with one hand, his fork with the other. I got my square plate from the kitchen. Consuela had put a slice of cantaloupe next to my chicken salad sandwich. I turned to smile at her, but she was busy cleaning the kitchen and ignored me.

  When I stepped out onto the deck, I breathed the ocean air and held it in my lungs for a moment before letting it out in a calming, salty exhalation. Plate in hand, I took a couple of steps toward the table. Mr. Sealy looked up from his reading.

  "Larissa?"

  "Yes?"

  "If you don't mind, I'd rather make this a family lunch. You can eat in the kitchen. With Connie."

  I stopped dead. "Right." I headed back into the house. Mr. Sealy went back to his paper.

  Inside, Consuela was wiping down the big stainless-steel table. I just stood there for a moment, feeling like a kid who doesn't know where to sit in the cafeteria. Who was Beanie eating with? I wondered. I'd have given anything to be able to stick a plastic cafeteria tray next to hers.

  Consuela stopped wiping for a moment and looked up at me. "You sit. Is okay."

  I placed my plate down carefully and slipped into a chair. Consuela looked out at Mr. Sealy and muttered some words that they didn't teach in high school Spanish.

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  "Have you worked for the Sealys long?" I asked. "Huh?" She went back to wiping. "Seven months."

  "Do you ... like it?"

  She looked at me as if I'd just said something ridiculous. "Is a job."

  "Oh." There was nothing else to say.

  Mrs. Sealy came bursting in just as I was finishing my sandwich. She dropped her keys on the counter and looked around the room. "Is my husband here? He left a message on my cell phone."

  She spotted him on the deck. "Darling!" She pushed open the screen door. "What a wonderful surprise. I didn't think you were coming until tomorrow."

  "I told you I might come this morning to avoid the weekend traffic. You need to listen." He stood up and they kissed on the cheek like two people who didn't know each other very well but wanted to pretend they liked each other.

  Mrs. Sealy gave the boys the biggest hugs I'd seen yet and let Cameron crawl in her lap.

  Consuela brought Mrs. Sealy a plain boneless chicken breast, some cantaloupe, and a glass of wine. She refilled Mr. Sealy's glass with iced tea and then came back inside, where she pretended to work but was obviously spying. I chewed my sandwich as slowly as I could manage and sat back to listen to their conversation.

  "Isn't it a bit early?" Mr. Sealy asked, nodding at the wine.

  Mrs. Sealy squinted at the ocean. "I'm on vacation."

  "The house is a monstrosity," her husband remarked without much emotion.

  "I like it. It's restful."

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  "Who knew restfulness would cost so much money?"

  "It's only for two weeks. And it's been a really special bonding time for me and the boys."

  I waited until they had finished eating to go back out onto the deck. "Excuse me?" I asked timidly, my back pressed against the screen. "Would it be okay if I went for a walk?"

  Mrs. Sealy said, "Larissa, I don't think that--" when Mr. Sealy cut her off.

  "I think we can handle our own children for one afternoon," he said.

  Mrs. Sealy sat frozen for a moment. "It's just that I told Suzanne I would keep an eye on her," she murmured.

  Suzanne was Larissa's mother, I guessed.

  "What kind of trouble can she possibly get into around here? This town is dead." Mr. Sealy didn't bother lowering his voice. It was like I wasn't even there or maybe just like I didn't matter. He picked up his newspaper. "We should have gone to Mexico, like I said."

  "Do you know when my school year starts?" I blurted out-- even though the real Larissa wouldn't need to ask.

  "Tuesday, I think," Mrs. Sealy said, looking up from the ground. "The day after Labor Day. Don't you know? Your mother said it was no big deal missing it--they don't teach much in the first week, anyway. She said it would be nicer for you to have a week at the beach."

  "Nicer?" I said. "Oh, yeah--that's why she sent me here. Not so she could, say, go on a cruise with her boyfriend. Or so you could have a free babysitter."

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  My words surprised me as much as anyone else. I had never spoken that way to an adult. But there was a freedom, a power, in knowing I'd escape any punishment.

  Mrs. Sealy and I stared at each other--a face-off--until Prescott said, "Ooooh, Larissa, you're gonna get in trouble."

  And this was the kid I'd called tough. Little weenie.

  Mr. Sealy didn't care what I said. He just wanted to get rid of me so he could go back to his paper. "Enjoy your walk," he said coldly.

  "I plan to."

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  ***

  18

  My little house was quiet : no ghosts on the front stoop, even. The mail carrier was driving down the street in her jeep, pulling over to stuff boxes. I resisted the urge to say hello, strolling around the block instead. When I came back, she was gone.

  I went to the front door, rang the bell, and shouted hello a couple of times. This was for effect. If anyone saw me, I could say I tried the front door first before going around back to look for my new BFF Claire.

  The key was in the birdhouse that I'd made in fifth grade, its rainbow paint faded from years in the sun. I took it off the low branch and tilted it until the key slid to the front opening. I dug the key out with my index finger, leaving a line of black underneath my nail. Damn. I was totally going to need a new manicure.

  The house was empty. I sensed that the moment I walked inside, but I went upstairs anyway. There were my books, my pictures,

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  my computer. There was my bed, neatly made, Fluffernutter sprawled in the middle. When he saw me, he darted out of the room and across the hall.

  I followed him into my mother's room. "Fluff, it's me!" I peeked under the bed. His yellow eyes glowed. He didn't blink.

  "Come here, you furball!"

  He stayed put. So much for that secret sixth sense that animals are supposed to have.

  I turned on my computer and checked my e-mail. One friend had written to ask about my class schedule. Another had asked about swim-team trials. They were tomorrow. Missing the first day of school was bad enough, but I had to be back to my old self by tomorrow. I just had to.

  There was one message from Beanie, which read, simply,

  WHERE WERE YOU???????

  I wrote back:

  I am so sorry. I have not been myself the last couple of days. I will make it up to you.

  I hit "send" before it occurred to me that Beanie might check the time of my reply--and I was supposed to be in school right now.

  Was I in school right now? The thought freaked me out. Evelyn knew my sophomore year started today. Maybe she had convinced Larissa to go, had told her that this was just a continuation of her

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  seemingly endless dream, like that one in which you're trying to open the door to a strange house but the key doesn't fit. Or that dream in which you're falling from a cliff but you never hit the ground. Or that dream in wh
ich you realize you're no longer willowy and beautiful but just some regular girl named Claire.

  If I hurried, I could make it to school before the last bell. My bike was in the garage. As a precaution, as I rode down the driveway, I called out, "Thanks for letting me borrow your bike, Claire!"

  As I rode, my heart raced for a bunch of reasons: Larissa was totally out of shape; it wigged me out to think that Larissa may have gone to school in my body; and two guys--men!--whistled at me and one car honked.

  By the time I got to Sandyland High, I was so winded, sweaty, and shaky that I wondered how I'd ever get my bike back home.

  I heard myself before I saw myself. I was walking along the side of the school, near the Dumpsters, when I heard myself laugh. My laugh sounds just like my mother's. Yup, I got my mother's lank hair, murky eyes, powerhouse build, and seal-pup laugh. Basically, I got everything from my mother except her knack for staying in her own body.

  A girl who looked like me was leaning against the side of the brick building, partially hidden by the stinky brown Dumpsters, cigarette in hand. Instead of the new jeans and layered top, she wore my mother's short-sleeved black dress and black high-heeled shoes. There were five kids with her, two boys in long basketball shorts and oversize T-shirts and three girls decked out in tourniquet-tight jeans and the kinds of trampy, strappy shirts that

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  are supposed to get you kicked out of school and maybe did.

  "Claire?" I said carefully, Larissa's nasal voice vibrating in my ears.

  She didn't notice me. Instead, she took a long drag on her cigarette and blew a smoke ring. The girl next to her had hair that was black and white in alternating streaks. She said, "Awesome, babe!" She tried to blow a smoke ring but failed.

  I took a few steps closer. "Claire?" When again she didn't answer, I said, "Larissa?" --my voice louder than I had intended.

  The kids all turned. The boys said hi. The girls glared.

  The Claire-ish girl's eyes grew wide, and then she smiled. "Thanks for the smokes, Jessamine," she said to the girl with the zebra hair. She held up her cigarette-free hand in a wave. "Ciao, kids."

  She pitched the cigarette onto the asphalt and ground it out with her foot. Then she strode toward me with a walk that was not my own, hips swaying, arms swinging. "Let's get some air," she said.

  "We're already outside."

  "Don't be so literal." She took my arm and, humming, led me to a sheltered corner.

  Suddenly, I knew. "Evelyn?"

  "Shh!" she said, her eyes darting around. "Don't blow my cover."

  "You're supposed to be in math class."

  "I know, but Beanie was in there, and I was afraid she'd know I wasn't you. I've been avoiding her all day, poor thing."

  "Why didn't you just stay home?"

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  She sighed. "Your mother insisted on driving me to school, first day and all. She was really flattered when I asked to borrow her dress." She spun around once so I could admire it. "I thought you should wear something special, start the year off right. Bet your bottom dollar--after today, people are going to know who Claire Martin is!" She glanced back at the Dumpsters. "I'm actually having a pretty nice time. I've met some swell kids."

  "You could have pretended to be sick."

  "I don't like to lie. Besides, I was afraid of saying too much, of getting in trouble. I don't think we said ten words to each other all morning."

  "Where's Larissa?"

  "She's you know--around." She waved her hand in the air. "That nice girl Jessamine gave me the rest of her ciggies," she said as she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bulky handbag, which I recognized as my mother's. "I promised myself I'd stop after just one, but smoking is so much better with real cigarettes--not to mention real lungs."

  "Hey!" I grabbed the pack. "Those are my lungs!"

  "You're right, sweetie." She batted her eyelashes in shame. "I shouldn't get you started on these nasty things. I just figured that a few cigarettes wouldn't make any"--she paused to cough--"difference."

  "Time trials are tomorrow!" I tried to squish the cigarette pack in my hand and failed. Even Larissa's fingers were weak.

  Evelyn reached into her purse--my mother's purse--and pulled out a compact. "Swim team, you mean? Well, let's hope you

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  switch back tonight, because I've never been a big fan of the water." Evelyn had never shown much interest in my swimming, always encouraging me to try something more feminine, like figure skating or baton twirling. Yeah, like that was going to happen.

  "Why didn't I switch back last night?" I asked. "I was asleep by midnight. And by the way, no one under sixty uses powder."

  She flipped open the compact and patted her cheeks, chin, and nose. My nose.

  "Larissa woke up around eleven and couldn't get back to sleep," Evelyn told me. "So we played Uno for probably an hour, though I'll tell you, it felt more like ten. She had to move all of the cards for the two of us, of course, which took all of the fun out of it. Assuming there was any fun in the first place."

  "Uno?"

  "She used to play it with her father. You know about her father?"

  "Not much. Just that her parents are divorced and he doesn't get to see her much." I reached out and brushed some loose powder off of her cheek. I had to say, the powder looked better than I would have expected.

  She dropped the compact in her bag and pulled out a lipstick. "Her father used to have a drinking problem. He's cleaned up his act--hasn't touched the stuff in years--but the courts are still making it really hard for him and Larissa to see each other." She opened the lipstick, made an O with her mouth, and smeared it more or less within the lines. "Her mother's boyfriend is a high-powered lawyer, which doesn't help. They're on a cruise in the Greek islands right now."

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  The lipstick was red--far too bright for my skin tone.

  "I would never wear red lipstick!" I said. "Or that dress. You're making me look like a forty-year-old woman."

  She blotted the lipstick with a tissue and blinked sadly. "I never got to be forty. I think I would have enjoyed it."

  "Evelyn, this isn't about you!"

  She raised her eyebrows. "I'm just trying to help you put your best face forward."

  The final bell rang. We had to hurry. "What happened after Uno?"

  "Claire--Larissa--that girl--she whined for a bit about her ex-boyfriend. He's way too old for her--nineteen or twenty, I wasn't really paying attention at that point--and he's moved on to someone else, but she still loves him, blah, blah, blah. Anyway, her mother is on a mission to keep her away from him. And from her father too. Maybe her father even more. Larissa wanted to stay with him this week, but her mother will do anything to keep them apart. That's why Larissa's here." She shrugged as if that were the end of the story, glossing over the little detail of how she, Evelyn, ended up in my body today.

  "And?"

  She squinted up at the clouds as if watching a bird fly away. "She fell asleep, finally. Her connection to your body started to loosen, until I could see her spirit drifting at the edges, like little puffs of smoke. The sooner she vacated the premises, the better, I figured, so when you didn't show up, I cuddled next to your body and slipped in. Larissa never felt a thing."

  "And?"

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  She looked at me briefly and then at the ground. "I called Roger."

  "Danish Roger?"

  "He's not Danish, he's American. He just lives in Denmark. A lonely country, Denmark."

  "How long did you and Roger talk?"

  "An hour? Three? You might want to buy some more minutes for your cell phone."

  "I didn't have enough minutes for a three-hour conversation to Denmark."

  "True. You had enough for about twenty minutes. You shouldn't let your balance run so low. What would you do in an emergency? Anyway, Roger called me back on the home phone. We talked until the sun came up."

  "You gave Roger our home phone number?" I took a de
ep breath and then another. I counted to ten and then I counted to twenty. And still I wanted to wring Evelyn's neck--except, of course, I'd be wringing my own neck, which would pretty much defeat the purpose.

  "What time did you wake up?" she asked.

  Prescott had come in shortly after sunrise. If she was being honest about when she went to sleep--a big if--then our sleep overlapped at least briefly.

  "So we had at least twenty minutes," she said, as if that absolved her of any guilt. "Maybe even a half hour."

  "Why didn't we switch, then?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it took too much energy getting Larissa out of your body. Maybe a body can only take so

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  many electrical changes at once. Or maybe it just wasn't long enough," she conceded. "I'll go to bed early tonight--pinky promise." She held up her pinky. "Everything will be fine. For now, let's just enjoy the moment."

  She reached for her cigarettes. I held them behind my back.

  I didn't feel as calm about the situation as she seemed to be. Evelyn had always said a switch was quick and painless, like a sneeze. She always insisted that the spirit is drawn back to its own body like iron filings to a magnet. Suddenly I knew there was something she wasn't telling me.

  "What happened to you?" I asked her.

  "When? Today?"

  "No, years ago. When you went to ... that place." Evelyn didn't like me to use the word institution. In fact, she didn't like to talk about "that episode," as she called it, at all, and always changed the subject when I brought it up.

  "Or ... weren't you the one there?" I asked.

  Her mouth drooped. "It was me. Unfortunately."

  "But what about before that? What happened to get you in there?"

  She held up a hand and said what she'd always said: "You don't need to know about that."