The Swap

by Megan Shull

  “You’re over it?” I repeat. My heart sinks. “But wait, it’s not like that, we’re not, I’m not—”

  Oh, man, this is so messed up.

  “Well,” she says, her eyes twinkling through the dark. “Whatever, it’s all good! I’ll always have your back, no matter what. Elle, seriously, I’m so pumped for you, girlie! Also, I’m really glad that he just walked up to you like that. You should have seen Sassy’s face!” Her eyes jump to Sassy and Aspen, glaring back at us from the two side-by-side swings. “Oh, man.” Mackenzie sighs. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. This is going to get bad. Stay close to me, Elle, okay? I should have done more back at Claire’s. I should have said something. I should have spoken up. Sassy’s seriously scary intimidating. She makes everyone kind of terrified, right? She’s a total bully! Someone needs to stop her. She’s out of control.” Mackenzie threads her arm through mine. “I don’t know how to stop her, but, like, don’t worry, okay?”

  “Oh, I’m not,” I say, looking right back at Sassy. “Trust me.”

  For a good twenty minutes we all sort of laugh and talk and joke around. Sassy and Aspen are off on the swings, doing their roll-their-eyes-and-glare-side-by-side thing. The rest of us are standing around the monkey bars. Trey is making us all laugh, showing off, doing pull-ups.

  I see the headlights in the parking lot. Then I hear her. Owen’s mom.

  “Oh, man!” Owen cries out. “I knew it, Sammy! I knew this would happen.”

  “Owen! Boys! Get over here this instant!” Owen’s mom gets closer. She’s wearing her bathrobe, and she looks angry.

  “Oh, snap,” I hear Sammy whisper into the dark.

  “We’re dead.” Owen sighs.

  Then—

  I watch Owen elbow Elle. “Dude,” he whispers to her. “I think she called your—”

  “Jack!” I hear. I feel instantly sick. I turn to Elle. Both of us stand there totally frozen. The panic in our eyes is equal. I can tell in one look that Elle knows how quickly this is going to go from bad to so much worse.

  Suddenly, nothing about Sassy Gaines matters anymore.

  Everyone else standing here? They all fade away. My eyes move between The Captain, getting closer, and the stunned look on Elle’s face. And the voice in my head is shouting now: Why am I even out here? I’m so stupid! I should know better! Why’d I even come? I should have just stayed at Elle’s with Summer, then I wouldn’t be in this mess now!

  Only then do I remember—as I watch The Captain get closer and closer with each step, in his jeans, his gray army sweatshirt, his Red Sox cap. He’s not coming for me.

  I turn to Elle again. She has her hands hidden in the front pouch of my black hoodie. She glances at me nervously. My heart is absolutely pounding. Everything in front of me appears to slow down. Everything is going horribly wrong. I watch The Captain stop and turn to Elle.

  “Jack,” he repeats. I can tell by his voice how livid he is.

  “Yes, sir,” Elle stutters under her breath. For a second I’m relieved she knew how to answer back. But then he reaches out and grabs on to what he thinks is my shoulder—hard.

  “Get your tail in the truck,” is all he says.

  The Captain takes Elle by the arm, my arm, grabbing her. The look in his eyes is so intense. Elle glances at me as she walks past. She looks petrified.

  “I’m sorry,” I mouth as I watch her being dragged off.

  “Monday!” I call after her. I say it loud enough for everyone to hear.

  I can see her look back over her shoulder at me.

  The look in her eyes is total fear.

  43

  ELLE

  THE CAPTAIN DOES NOT SAY one word as I walk behind him across the front of the school, down the hill to the truck. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t even turn and look. He just walks out in front of me, at least ten steps ahead. And when we get to the truck, he gets in, reaches over, and unlocks the door on my side. I take a big breath before I vault myself up into the front seat and shut the door.

  I can do this, I can do this, I tell myself.

  I swallow back all the fear that is charging up my throat. Try and block out my own voice yelling in my head: I caused this whole mess. I should never have snuck out! I should have thought about Jack. I just got carried away and—

  I glance sideways at The Captain. He looks so angry, like he’s not even breathing. He’s just—

  Fuming. Eyes straight ahead.

  Oh my god. I ruined everything. I can’t even imagine how much trouble Jack’s going to be in.

  The rumbling engine is the only sound, and I look out of the corner of my eye at The Captain again. But it’s like I’m not even here. He just drives. He does not even say a word. He backs up the truck, pulls forward, and turns out of the school.

  And I get it. I get this thing. It’s like . . . not talking? The complete and utter silence . . .

  The darkness.

  I think it’s honestly worse than if he was saying something. Anything! Worse than yelling. Oh, man. I bite on my lip. I breathe in.

  Hold it together, Elle, I tell myself. You can do this. You can do this. I say it over and over and over again in my head.

  God, do I feel bad for Jack. My mom would never . . .

  I lean my head against the window and stare into the dark, watch the streetlights on the side of the road flash against my eyes. I don’t say a word. Are you crazy? I’ve only been a Malloy for a day and half, but I get it, okay? I know the drill.

  Do not speak unless spoken to.

  When The Captain pulls into the driveway and gets out, he doesn’t slam the door. He shuts it and goes into the house and just leaves me there. Sitting alone. For a moment I’m relieved. But then it occurs to me that I’m sitting by myself in a truck in the middle of the night. I open the door and ease myself out.

  Standing in the driveway, I flip up the hood on the hoodie and slip it around my head. It feels like a helmet, I guess. I keep my hands in the front pocket, walk up to the house, and open the door, preparing myself for the big conversation that’s obviously about to unfold. The yelling and the grounding, the-stay-in-your-room-for-the-rest-of-your-life-ing. At least I won’t have to make up some big excuse tomorrow for hockey. But when I step inside, it’s dark. The house is completely silent. Pitch black. I feel around for the banister. Then I slowly and quietly make my way up the stairs. I slip into Jack’s room. My eyes adjust a little. I can barely make out the lump that is Stryker, sleeping. I take a huge breath and pull back the covers on Jack’s bed and, without a sound, slip under them. I don’t even care that all my clothes are still on, the hoodie still pulled up around my face. I lie on my side, facing Stryker.

  “One more day,” I whisper out loud. It just comes out of my lips. I can do this. I can do this. I keep saying it like it’s some kind of nursery rhyme in my head. I close my eyes. I feel so tired.

  44

  JACK

  AS I THROW MYSELF DOWN the elementary school’s sloping front hill, I can hear them shouting after me.

  “Elle!” they yell. “Come back! Hey! Elllllllllle!” I’m pretty sure it’s Mackenzie and Sammie and maybe Claire. Nothing matters. I don’t even really care. It’s like everything I was worried about before is gone. I don’t stop at the bottom when I’m safely out of sight. I don’t kneel down and tighten my sneakers before I take off. It’s exactly one point seven miles from the school to my house. We’ve raced our bikes a thousand times, we’ve measured it out. I know it by heart. I know exactly what I have to do. And I don’t care that I’m running down the dark, empty street in purple pajamas, or that Elle’s long hair is spilling out behind me. My head is spinning, my heart is pounding. One foot in front of the other. I run as fast as I can. It’s so quiet. So dark. I feel like I’m moving through space. The air feels soft. The only sound I hear besides my breath is my feet striking the pavement. My head is filled with so many thoughts. I hear Jett’s voice, calming me down. “The only thing you can control is how
hard you go.”

  I kick into some higher gear.

  I have to get home.

  The closer I get, I’m an absolute mess. I’m sweating. I’m panicking worse than I even ever have. Everything in my head is spinning. My chest feels tight. I’m telling myself to calm down. Calm down, Jack! Get a grip! Honestly, I don’t know if I’m more worried for Elle or more worried for me. I’ve worked so hard, and now it’s all down the drain. He’ll probably not even let me play. Make me call the coach and apologize for—

  For what?! I don’t even know. That’s The Captain. Do the right things the right way. Use your head. I can picture him sitting at the kitchen table, staring silently at Elle. This is my mess, and he’s going to take it out on her. Oh, man, if she cries? It’s over! And The Captain doesn’t even know about the fight at school! This is all just him heated over the playground thing. I’ve let everybody down. I want so bad to make my dad proud—show him that I can do what I’m supposed to do.

  When I finally hit my street, I slow down to a jog, then walk. There’s an eerie stillness in the air. I look up for the stars, but suddenly the sky is darker now. Hopeless, I think, and drop my eyes.

  “Pull yourself together,” I tell myself out loud. I whisper it into the darkness as I approach my own house. Only when I finally get there? Suddenly my big idea seems really, really dumb. What am I going to do!!? Ring the doorbell!? Throw a pebble at my window!? I’d probably break the glass. I’m such an idiot! What was I even thinking, coming here? I stand there in the driveway I’ve stood in a million times. The same driveway where I’ve shot a million pucks. The same exact spot we train, the same place I push Gunner on a sled with weights. I stand there, then I crumple to the ground. I sit with my head in my hands.

  The house is totally dark.

  There’s not even one light on.

  I walk alone in the dark all the way back to Claire’s. I’m getting closer. I’m almost there. My hands are cold and clammy and my legs are trembling. I’m just so tired.

  As soon as I see her, my eyes flood with tears. I can’t hold it back anymore. The car stops. Summer jumps out. And I lose it. I burst into tears. It just comes pouring out. I begin to sob. I fall into her arms. I just kind of melt. Summer wraps her arms around me and holds me so tight.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she whispers. “Oh, honey, Claire’s mom called. You had me so worried, why did you—oh, shhhh . . . sweetheart.” Summer kisses me above my ear, on the side of my head. “Oh, honey. I’m here. Just let it go. It’s okay. I’m here. I love you. We’ll figure things out.”

  It’s dark and quiet except for my sobs. Summer doesn’t let go. She just holds me. She’s strong. “It’s going to be okay,” she tells me in the softest whisper. I’m crying so hard snot is pouring out of my nose—her shirt is soaked. “It’s okay,” she whispers again and again. “It’s okay, sweetheart—I know you’re hurting. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ll get through this. It’s going to get better.”

  45

  ELLE

  “JACK!”

  I open my eyes and squint. The light is on. The Captain is standing in the doorway dressed in jeans, same gray army sweatshirt, same red baseball cap from last night.

  “You have exactly five minutes to get up, get your bag, and get in the truck.”

  That’s all he says. Then? He’s gone.

  “Um, I’m, uhhh . . . sick!” I call out, pathetically weak. “I don’t feel well,” I add.

  The Captain appears in the doorway again. He stands there looking at me, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Can you breathe?” he asks.

  I nod yes. “But, um, my eye. It hurts.”

  “Can you see?” he asks.

  “Yes, sir,” I answer softly.

  “Well then, you can skate.”

  “But, I, I—” I start, but then I stop. The look on his face makes me shut up.

  He checks his watch. “You are wasting time, Jack. Four minutes. You better have your butt in the truck.”

  I wait for The Captain to leave and glance at the clock. It’s 5:55 a.m.! What do I even do? I promised Jack.

  Stryker flips over and looks at me like I’m nuts. “Dude, are you crazy? You’re never late to hockey. C’mon, man! Get up!”

  “I can’t, I just, um—”

  “Get up, man! What’s wrong with you, dude?” Stryker sits up, groggy, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “I’m going to take a leak.” He stands and looks back at me from the door. “Bro, Captain’s gonna lose it. You better move.”

  Oh my gosh! What do I do? What do I do?

  I sit up. I listen to the seconds ticking away on the clock. My heart is racing. Think, Elle, think! I made it through this far, right? The mountain, the lifting. I can do this, I tell myself. I know what Jack said. But if you could see the look The Captain gave me—

  You’d do just what I’m doing, which is getting up immediately out of this bed. When The Captain tells you to go, you go. I hightail it to the bathroom and nearly collide with Stryker in his boxers, no shirt.

  “Uhhhh,” I stammer, sounding like a total nervous wreck.

  Stryker yawns, stretching his arms up above his head. “Bro, what’s wrong with you?”

  “It’s just, oh my gosh,” I say. I feel like crying, but I don’t. Instead, I look at him and take a deep breath. “Stryker?” I say. Then just blurt it out. “Where’s my bag?”

  “Settle, man.” He looks at me, confused. “Dude, you’re acting nuts, but whatever. You piss. I’ll make your bed and get your bag from The Cage. Chill, little man, clear your mind. Figure it out, bud. Do not freak out.”

  Do not freak out. Do not freak out. I repeat it in my mind. I slip into the bathroom, splash my face with cold water, look in the mirror. Jack’s eye and nose are better. Still a little bit sore and purplish yellow.

  “Hockey, okay, you can do this.” I exhale and force a smile. Then I turn toward the window, pull the curtain away, and peek out. It’s still dark. The Captain is already in the truck in the driveway. The headlights are on. “If you can see, you can skate.” I mutter The Captain’s words, like that’s going to somehow help.

  One minute later, I’m busting down the stairs, dressed in the same clothes I was wearing last night. Jeans. Black hoodie. Slipping on Jack’s sneakers. I’ve honestly never been so grateful to anyone in my life than when Stryker—still dressed only in his boxers—suddenly appears out of the basement carrying Jack’s enormous bag of equipment.

  “Stryker, oh my gosh, I love you!” I say. It just tumbles out.

  He looks at me with a puzzled expression. “I love you too, man. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, big guy, but you’re gonna do big things today.” He pauses and flashes me a smile. “Breathe, man. You got this. You’re a stud.”

  I take the bag, throw it over my shoulder and turn to go—

  “Whoa, bro, you’re unreal this morning.” He laughs, pulls me back with his palm planted on my shoulder, and hands me two hockey sticks. “You’re gonna need your twigs, bud.”

  “Thanks,” I manage. Stryker has a calmness that kind of rubs off on me. I look at him and feel like, you know, maybe this might work out somehow.

  “And hey, bro?” he adds.

  I pause in the open front doorway and look back at Stryker.

  “Whatever it takes, man,” he tells me. “Don’t give up. Ever.”

  I heave Jack’s hockey bag into the back of the truck and jump up into the seat that I was sitting in, like, four hours ago. Now I’m wide-awake.

  I’m wide-awake and going to play hockey!

  The last time I went public skating, I was ten years old. I glance at The Captain. I don’t look too long. He’s intimidating, with his silence. Before we back out of the driveway, before the truck moves? The Captain, without looking at me, hands me a mug of something that smells disgusting. I take it from him and slowly put it up to my nose. Oh my gosh. So. Gross. But I don’t cringe. You think I’m nuts? I’m not about to tick this
guy off. I have to suck it up. I have to do this for Jack.

  “Thank you, sir,” I say, bringing the plastic cup to my mouth. I take a big swig and try not to grimace. Then I just count to five, close my eyes, and drink the rest of it.

  The Captain does not speak the entire way to the rink. Not a word. I keep my head turned away. I try not to throw up the fishy banana smoothie. I watch the light rise out the window on the highway. A violet blue haze. There’s way more people up at 6:17 a.m. than I thought. Cars whizzing by us, traffic. By the time the truck pulls into the rink, I feel the worst pit in my stomach. I have no idea how I’m going to pull this off. But I have to try. It’s too late now. I put my hand on the door handle and take a deep breath.

  “Jack,” says The Captain, finally breaking his silence.

  I turn and look back. He’s not smiling. What did I expect?

  “Yes, sir?” I say. I keep my hand on the handle. I do not move.

  “This can all be gone in an instant.”

  “Yes, sir!” my voice trembles, and I go to move, but I feel his hand grab me by the shoulder and pull me back.

  “Did I say you’re dismissed?”

  I feel this awful pang in my heart. “No, sir!” I answer nervously.

  “About last night,” he says. “Look at me.”

  I turn. I do. I turn back toward him. “Sorry, sir,” I say softly. I won’t lie. I’m working with everything I have to hold back tears.

  He doesn’t bat an eye. “No excuses.”

  “Yes, sir,” I answer quietly.

  “There’s no gray area. It’s black and white. Men do what they have to do. Boys do what they want to do.”

  I have no idea what that means or what I’m supposed to say. We sit in the truck in total silence for at least a minute. Even the engine is off. I watch other boys get dropped off, laughing, smiling, bags over their shoulders. They all look bigger and older than Jack.

  What have I gotten myself into? I think, and watch them disappear behind the double metal doors of the rink.