Freaky Monday (10 page)

I had barely
managed to stray from my sad heap on the floor. I'm not sure how long I sat there as waves of sadness and pity kept crashing onto me. Here I was, this compulsive studier, the consummate 4.3 student, but for what? To be a shell of a person who isn't well-rounded enough to be Student of the Year and who
still
forgets about preparing for oral presentations?

On top of it, I was still switched with Ms. Pitt and that alone was cause for serious pause. How long could this go on? Maybe this was some sort of punishment for my prior nonlife, wasting my teenage years with one solitary goal: Academic success. Whatever that meant.

My thoughts were interrupted by a phone that kept ringing and ringing. I ignored it, but the person on the other end of the line sure was a persistent bugger: They kept calling back over and over. And then I remembered: Maybe it was Ms. Pitt—I mean,
me
—calling to check
in. Maybe she wanted to coordinate with me as I had been insistent on attending tonight's dance. But that was before I realized my whole entire life was a colossal joke and I was impossible to nominate as Student of the Year.

Now even the dance seemed like an empty exercise.

On what was practically the nineteenth ring, I reached for the phone. Make that
reluctantly
reached for the phone.

“Hello?” I said glumly, hoping to broadcast my general malaise.

“What's going on, Hadley? Are you okay? Why haven't you been answering the phone?” It was my own voice on the phone. “I've been trying and trying to get through—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's cut with the ‘I'm so concerned' charade, all right?” I interrupted.

There was a pause. “What's going on?”

I thought about not getting into it but realized, What do I have to lose? Everything seemed lost, anyway. “I found your Student of the Year file. I read everything.” I paused for effect. “Hadley Fox…
cannot recommend
.”

“Oh, boy. Hadley, you should not have read that. You know I
wanted
to recommend you. And it was easy to write about all your shining talents—”

“But—”
I interjected for her.

“But…I stand by what I wrote. It's true. Was true. I just didn't have a sense of who you were as a person. But that was before today. And today has been…illuminating.”

I sparked a bit. “Illuminating, huh?” I prayed that didn't sound too hopeful.

“Yes. You've shown me who you
really
are today, Hadley. And I never would have known the real you before. But after I saw you with your sister and your concern for her, and frankly, how you've handled this entirely too nutty body-switching debacle…well, now I may just rewrite that last paragraph,” Hadley said.

“Really?”

“Really.”

I smiled to myself and felt my fog lift. “Thanks. It means a lot.”

“My pleasure. I'd actually already thought about it before you'd said a thing.”

“So I gotta know,” I said, eager to move on. (Emotion is sometimes not my strong suit, and today I was a positively way-too-weepy emo-teen or something.) “How's it going at home?”

“Well…your mom and I have bonded over our love of the Carpenters.”

“Who?” I was clueless.
The Carpenters?
Were we
having work done on our house or something?

Hadley laughed. “The Carpenters was a band from the seventies—you know, the Paleolithic era. My parents played their albums all the time. Your mom was a little shocked I could sing all of “On Top of the World” with her, to say the least.”

“So…is the jig up, then? Did Mom figure it out?” I was panicking slightly.

“She thought something was off but she didn't jump to the my-daughter-switched-places-with-her-teacher conclusion.”

“Probably not.”

“And Tatum did my hair and makeup. There's some serious flowy hair goin' on over here….”

“Yeah…Tatum lives for that sorta stuff. Say the word
makeover
and her eyes dilate.”

I heard a laugh on the other end of the line. “Regardless, she did a darn fine job…. she's good. I—I mean,
you
—look amazing.”

I jolted upright. “I do?!”

“What's the term…
smokin'
? Yeah, you look smokin'.”

A huge smile broke out on my face.
Smokin'
is definitely one term I have
never
heard myself referred to as. And I liked it, I gotta admit. I
am
a girl, after all!

“But not smokin' as in actual cigarettes, you know, smokin' as in—”

“Smokin' hot.” I laughed. “I know what you meant.”

“Exactly. Zane won't know what hit him,” she said, and I practically squealed. That's right—the dance! Tonight! “Are you ready?”

I looked down at Ms. Pitt's dorky attire and dreadfully undone hair. Which was just the start of her problems. I also knew that inside her closet there wasn't exactly a wealth of fashion-forward options.

“Not exactly…”

“Well, hop to it! Randy awaits!”

Randy? Oh, Mr. Hudson. Okay, it seemed like there were other priorities to focus on besides looking fetching for a substitute teacher with sad taste in neckwear.

“But Ms. Pitt—” I started.

“And I know what you're thinking,” she said. “Why bother with looking cute when we, you know, haven't even switched back yet.”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“Well, this may be going out on a limb, but it seems that our chances of getting unswitched are more likely if we're in the same location,” she said. And I had to hand it to her, the point made sense. “Besides. Don't you want to see Zane at the dance?”

My attention perked up. I did, actually. Especially if I was looking smokin'—that I wanted to see! And maybe any newfound hotness could potentially offset the strangeness of having Ms. Pitt speak for me. “Yeah. I am curious.”

“Me, too. Meet you there in an hour, renominated Student of the Year.” I had to grin to myself. “And
no
driving.”

I let out a little defeated protest sigh. I thought she'd forgotten. “Awww…”

“No driving. You can walk or bike, I really don't care, but no driving. I need you in one piece. See you soon.”

Tatum sure had a point about Ms. Pitt. She
was
the best.

Back in the depths
of Ms. Pitt's closet, I found a lone pair of stunning heels, practically unworn and still tucked away in their original box. There must have been some special occasion where Ms. Pitt busted out the swanky heels. It was about time Ms. Pitt put something on that said, “Over here!” and not, “Look the other way!”

I slid into the shoes and took a look in a full-length mirror. I pivoted to the side, just as I'd seen women do in all the movies, inspecting the overall effect. And as I'm not exactly the most savvy on a pair of heels, I teetered over and collapsed onto a nearby bed. I laughed to myself and got back in the saddle, as they say, and pulled myself up. I practiced walking around the room, cautiously planting the heels one foot after another. I felt like Bambi taking his wobbly first steps…and with each step, I gained more confidence. Soon heels didn't feel
as
foreign. Very cool!

Now it was time to find something a bit more alluring. Nothing linen, nothing shapeless, and nothing organic,
please.
I'm all for the environment, but does every evening have to be green-friendly? Besides…silk comes from silkworms, doesn't it? Is there a rule that organic has to be dowdy? I was going to step it up for Ms. Pitt and show off her inner babe.

I found a lovely wrap dress that would play up Ms. Pitt's shape. I had no idea why I'd never seen her in this before…. It was flattering and sexy without being in your face. Because I really hate that over-the-top sexpot thing.

Oh, how I wished I had Tatum on hand to help craft the hair and makeup. For one, Ms. Pitt had a limited selection of products. For two, I pretty much had limited to zero idea what I was doing. Still, I carried on and tried to assemble her hair in a more manageable style. Heck, I was trying to give her a style, period! Her hair was luxurious and she had mounds of it—unlike my sad head of straw—but I didn't know what to do with it. It was a monster unto itself. I tried an updo, which was disastrous. I tried a half updo, which was disastrous. I let it hang down, which was disastrous. (There seemed to be a theme here.) So I grabbed one of those mammoth hair clamps I always see girls wearing—you know, they look
sort of like the Jaws of Life or something—and threw her hair into an updo and clamped down. Miraculously, it stayed put! And more miraculously, it was pretty! It was sloppy-fabulous and I was pleased. With a spot of lip gloss and some under-eye concealer (seriously, there was some darkness going on there), Ms. Pitt looked smashing. One glance of this glammed-up Ms. Pitt, and Mr. Hudson would most likely spontaneously combust.

I decided I was feeling so darling and vaguely European (if that's possible in San Marino, California) that I decided to ride a bike to the dance, too. It seemed like a Parisian solution somehow and made sense.

With the wind in my face, I pedaled toward the school. The early evening was just warm enough and I felt oddly happy. Then I remembered I was trapped in my teacher's body and the sense of elation crashed. But…I pedaled a
bit
more maniacally when I realized Zane would be at the dance. And there still was the debate as to who exactly sent me that Candy-Gram….

I zigzagged through
a throng of students littering the walkway into school. I had to hand it to the Student Council and perhaps even begrudgingly praise Kaya Tisch (trust me—
that's
never happened before). Apparently this I-Hate-Mondays Dance idea was a hit. There was a palpable energy coursing through the air.

I paid my two-dollar entrance fee and received a hand stamp—as if this was some sort of wild club or something. As I entered the cafeteria, I was amazed by the transformed space—was this actually the spot where we ate that objectionable food and gossiped? There were twinkly lights everywhere and it was vaguely pretty and romantic. Students were everywhere and I stood back for a moment to take it all in. But my moment was ruined as I was accosted by Nan and Soup.

“Ms. Pitt, have you seen Hadley?” Soup asked desperately.

You have no idea how badly I wanted to grab his shoulders and say,
It's me, idiot! Your best friend! Hadley!

This whole situation was so utterly improbable. Seriously, you should try having your best friends ask if they've seen you when you're trapped in your English teacher's body—it's a mind-scrambler. Before I could respond, I saw both Soup's and Nan's faces change. Their scrunched-up look of general confusion and concern were replaced by delight. At least I think that was it.

“Whoa, Ms. Pitt, you look amazing. Snap!” Nan said breathlessly. She seemed genuinely stunned.

I smiled. “I do, don't I?” I twirled a bit but soon realized this sounded highly arrogant—obviously I wasn't talking about
myself
! “I mean, I really should try to clean up now and again.”

“Well, keep it up,” Nan half joked. “Anyway, have you seen Hadley? We've been looking all over for her and you know she was a total freak earlier today.”

“Yeah, she's like totally unreachable and is nowhere to be found,” said Soup. “Which is so not like her. We have no idea what the bleep is going on.”

“Yeah, well, that makes bleepin' all of us,” I said.

Nan and Soup looked shocked and laughed a bit. “Anyway, if you see her, Ms. Pitt, let her know we're looking for her. I mean, you saw how insane she was
after this morning,” Nan said.

“Yeah. Certifiable,” I noted drily.

“I swear, one tanked oral report and it's like the end of the world for Hadley,” Soup said. “What she doesn't get is she'd still be awesome if she got nothing but C's.”

I felt a big lump in my throat. There's nothing like hearing something unexpectedly kind about yourself. “Awww, Soup. That is so sweet.”

Soup shrugged his shoulders, a bit weirded out. “See ya,” he said as he and Nan walked away, whispering conspiratorially. I'm sure he thought Ms. Pitt was officially insane.

I shook my head in disbelief over the continued strangeness and scanned the dance, hoping to find myself (trust me, try to avoid this). Instead, I found Zane standing nearby, and at the sight of him, I let out a strange little teenage gurgle.

Ooops.

Zane did not need Ms. Pitt totally vibing on him. I tried to act a bit more teacher, which is way hard when you're dealing with mega-under-the-radar-hotties like Zane Henderson.

“Hello, Zane,” I said a bit officiously. “I'm so psyched you and Hadley could team up today.”

“Yeah…but, uh…I actually should be the one
thanking you,” he responded.

“Really?!”

Just at that moment, I finally spotted Hadley from across the gym. And if I do say so, I clean up well, too! Tatum must have gone to town and the effect was amazing! I looked so—dare I say it?—nice…no, better than nice! I mean, I had an actual hairdo, for one, and my hair had some loose waves. There was obvious effort involved but it wasn't over the top. I just looked softer and more beguiling. Pretty, even. And were those kitten heels?

“Whoa,” Zane said softly. I realized he had seen me, too! And it caused a “whoa”! Do you have any idea what that does to a girl like me? Any idea at all?

Zane stared at Hadley in the distance and his appreciation was painfully apparent. He looked positively moony—that's a word, right, moony?—as he watched me get confronted by Soup and Nan. It was obvious this interrogation was full tilt. “It just stinks she's dating Soup,” he said.

“What?!”
I squealed like an overly caffeinated teenager. I couldn't help myself!

Me? Dating Soup?!

My emotional overshare instantly got Zane incredibly self-conscious. But he had to get the 4-1-1 on the non-dating status of me and Soup. “Okay, Zane, you have got
to trust me on this one, okay? There is
no
way Hadley is dating Soup. As if!”

“No?”

“No! Never! They are
so
not together! They're just friends! Seriously!”

“Well…” Zane was uncertain about this enthusiasm from his teacher, and I had to dial it back. Pronto. But that may just be a little bit impossible based on
the fact Zane Henderson may like me, Hadley Della Fox
!!!

Wait. He liked me when I was Hadley Della Fox, who was actually in Hadley's body…now I'm this mumbo-jumbo mixed-up mess!

I tried to restrain my enthusiasm and broadcast teacher. I cleared my throat and dropped my voice, sounding more formal. “That's curious, Zane….” Okay, that voice drop was a
bit
too much. “Because I thought perhaps you had a thing for Hadley's sister, Tatum Fox.”

“Why would you think that?” Zane asked. His green eyes glowed and he smelled good—all soapy goodness. He wasn't one of these smelly stinky teenage boy monsters who rarely showered.

“Oh…uh…I jumped to conclusions, I suppose. Aren't all boys in love with Tatum?”

“I'm sure a lot of guys are, sure. Tatum's beautiful.”

Of course. My heart sank.

“But so is Hadley. And I've always liked her looks better. Plus Hadley's so smart. Maybe it has to do with the fact that my mom's a professor. I guess I've always had a thing for smarties,” Zane explained.

God bless your brilliant mother!
I thought. It was all I could do not to kiss him. Ewww. Come to think of it, teacher kissing student = not the best idea. Scratch that.

“Well, Zane, I cannot express to you enough how exciting I think that bit of information is.” I smiled, trying to dampen my beam. Really, Ms. Pitt shouldn't be that over the moon hearing about an eighth-grade crush.

Finally, I caught Hadley's eye from across the dance floor and gave a sly little thumbs-up to indicate things were developing with Zane. I was fairly certain she saw me, but Soup and Nan had Hadley cornered.

“So you're really sure about Soup and Hadley not being together?” Zane asked, still mesmerized by—and I love this sentence—
me
!

“Positive. They've been friends and friends only for years. It's more of a brother and sister thing, I swear,” I gushed.

“You know what's up with everyone, don't you, Ms. Pitt?”

“You have no idea.” I smiled and looked deep into his green pools. “And truth be told, I have a feeling Hadley
has a bit of a crush on you.”

“Seriously?” His eyes lit up!

“Oh, I'm pretty serious,” I said, and I practically had to bite my cheek.

“Thanks, Ms. Pitt.”

“Oh no.
Thank you,
Zane.” Oh, how I loved saying his name! Zane! Zane! Zane!

“I'm gonna go over there and talk to her, then,” he said as if psyching himself up. Who would have thought Zane Henderson needed encouragement?

“I think that's a terrific idea,” I said as Zane started to turn. “Oh, and Zane—”

“Yeah?”

“Hadley's had a freaky day. Just keep that in mind if she seems a little…weird or something.”

“Will do.” And with that, I watched him saunter across the dance floor, headed straight for Hadley, Soup, and Nan. I followed at a discreet distance.

Nan saw him approaching, too. “Okay, Zane is so walking over here….” she stage-whispered with a definite thrill in her voice. “Totally walking over here…totally walking over here…” Nan kept repeating in an excited murmur. Hadley practically clocked Nan in the arm trying to silence her.

Zane stopped in front of Hadley.

And then my general delight crashed. Wait a second! Sure, it's fabulous I now know that Zane likes me, but this isn't how it's supposed to go. At all!

Because there is Zane—the love of my life, the most underestimated and just-under-the-radar sexy thirteen-year-old male to ever grace the planet—and he is stopping to talk to ME at a dance! A dance where they are going to soon play a predictable, drippy slow song that could potentially lead him to actually request the favor of my presence on the dance floor! Which means basically I'd get to HUG him for four minutes, and, P.S., that sounds absolutely nauseating and fabulous. But on this most phenomenal day in which romance is possible for the first time of my life, I am in my teacher's body!

Seriously, who else would this happen to except me?

I willed Ms. Pitt to please please for the love of humanity please be cool and please do not botch my potential love life. Because when we got our bodies back (and that was a really big if, I realized), I would like to have an actual future with Zane Henderson.

Can she see
me
shooting daggers from
her
eyes into
my
body and
her
soul?

Daggers weren't enough. I couldn't let this monumental exchange just happen…. I had to be there, hear it, do something. I had to be ready to interject if need be.

I sneaked around a group of students and hid behind a decidedly faux-looking faux palm tree, craning with all my might to hear everything.

“Hi,” Zane said to Hadley.

Nan and Soup clearly must have sensed the magnitude of this moment as I watched them sneak off, gesturing behind Zane's back that this was tremendously cool. Hadley swiped at them, indicating they should just move it along.

“Hello,” Hadley responded. “So. Can you believe this is where we eat lunch?” She gestured to the twinkling lights. “The lights are so…twinkly.”

I slapped my hand onto my head.
Twinkly?

“Yeah. Pretty cool,” Zane said. He smiled awkwardly and looked down as an upbeat dance number wound down. And you know what that meant…

The distinct opening sounds of Plain White T's “Hey There Delilah” filled the cafeteria and I saw Zane instantly get more red in the face.

“Good song,” Zane said.

“Yeah—”

“Wannadance?” he spat out.

Hadley peered over Zane's shoulder to see me practically falling over the palm tree, trying to overhear this action. Hadley shot me a look. “All right, why not?”
Hadley answered, obviously wanting to get Zane away from me, the fumbling weirdo.

Couples filled the dance floor and a surrounding crowd of envious onlookers watched from the outer rim of the cafeteria. Zane and Hadley were square in the center of the couples and I just had to make sure there'd be enough distance between them.

I crept closer, awkwardly circling the dancing students. I must have looked positively psychotic, edging closer and closer to Zane and Hadley, trying to overhear their interaction.

“So today's been kinda crazy,” Zane observed.

“Tell me about it,” Hadley said.

Okay, that's fine…. Keep it up…. Keep it up….

“You feeling better?”

“Me? Yeah. I'm fine, totally fine.”
The lady doth protest too much, methinks,
I thought.

“It just wasn't like you to drop the ball in English class today like that.”

“It was uncharacteristic and I apologize—”

“Hey, no need to apologize, I'm just sayin'.”

“Sayin' what?”

Zane stared mutely and I had to do something. I couldn't let Ms. Pitt single-handedly destroy this mood! I nudged her ever so slightly in the back with my elbow
and nonchalantly turned. She gave a little look over her shoulder and pivoted to face Zane again.

“Just…you know…just makin' sure you're okay, that's all.”

I gave a sly smile to Hadley and very coyly (seriously, maybe I should be a spy or something, I was feeling increasingly stealth) gestured with my head to keep it going. Hadley flashed him a big grin. “Thank you. I am fine now. And I appreciate your concern.”

“So…kinda cool with the dance on a Monday and the Candy-Grams and all,” he said.

“Yes.”

Mr. Hudson appeared at the doorway of the cafeteria and was scanning the room. I knew I now had my excuse to get much closer to Zane and Hadley without looking like a complete loon and I made a beeline for him. The high heels click-clicked on the cafeteria floor and I saw Mr. Hudson notice me approach. He did an adorable double take, obviously approving of my wardrobe and general style update…. I knew getting Ms. Pitt out of her drab garb and into something edgier would be appreciated. Already it was clearly paying off.

“Whoa, you look—” Mr. Hudson said.

“Let's dance,” I cut in and dragged Mr. Hudson out onto the dance floor. He was taken aback but (I'd say)
secretly thrilled as I directed him squarely next to Zane and me. I just had to hear what was up!

I put my arms around Mr. Hudson's neck and made sure there was a good amount of space in between us. There would be no hanky-panky teacher action on
my
watch. He smiled at me.

“I wanted to tell you how lovely you look tonight,” Mr. Hudson said.

I strained to hear Zane and Hadley's conversation and wasn't exactly paying attention to Mr. Hudson. “Come again?”

“I said…you look lovely,” he repeated.

“Oh, thanks, thanks. Enough with the granola-wear, right?” I smiled and continued to eavesdrop.