The Swap (18 page)

My mouth falls open.

“Quit being such a baby,” Jett calls out, his dark hair slicked back. “Seriously, you are either gonna get in or I'll get out and dunk you in, you sexy beast!”

For a flash, the mood kind of lightens and the boys all laugh. But just as fast, Jett sounds more serious. “Ten minutes, bro. Get gritty, let's go!” He crouches back down into the icy water. “Figure it out, Jacko. We aren't starting the clock without you.”

Stryker cocks his arm back and fires a chunk of ice at my head. “Do it, Butter Baby!” He shouts so loud I swear the whole neighborhood can hear him. “Dude, grow a pair! When did you get so soft? What are you, a girl or something!”

That's it. I don't hesitate.

I don't think too much.

I lose the sneakers first, then the socks, then I strip down to Jack's boxers—I keep those on, thank you very much. Then I march forward and throw my leg up and over the side and—

“OHHHHHMYGOOOOOOOSH!” I scream at the top of my lungs. Then I don't scream, because the cold literally takes my breath away.

I can hear the boys laughing, and for a few of the longest seconds of my life my mind goes completely blank. I shut my eyes. I can hear the words, but they sound like they're in a fishbowl. Muffled. Everything goes in super slow motion.

Jett: “Control your breathing, big boy. Just make it a minute and a half, and it gets better.”

Gunner: “Piece a' cake, big man. Battle through it.”

Stryker: “Don't piss in your shorts this time, Jackie Chan!”

Jett: “Breathe, bud. Just breathe.”

Jett's right. The pain lasts about a minute, then everything just goes numb. I open my eyes and squint at the three of them. Gunner's in the first tub, then Stryker, then Jett, next to me. I'm on the end.

I copy Jett and rest my arms up around the plastic edge.

“Don't think about it, man,” he tells me. “Another day at the office, right?”

“Uhhh . . . I, I—” I try.

“Let's talk, big man,” says Jett. He gives me a nod and a smile. “Take your mind off the chill. Bro-to-bro bonding.”

I shrug my frozen shoulders. “What do you want to talk about?” I ask him.

“Why don't you tell me why you got in tilt yesterday, bud?”

“Uhhh, ummm,” I stutter.

Then I have an idea.
I'll just describe Sassy.

“Well, the thing is”—I look at Jett when I answer—“somebody was saying something and it was really mean.”

“Really
mean
?” Jett lets out a laugh. “You are seriously being a girl right now, bud, I swear.”

“Yeah, well, what if I am? What are you gonna do about it?” I answer, joking.

See, I can play too
. I smile at Jett.

“Oh man, that hurt, bud. It's gonna be like that, huh?” he teases. “Even though you literally make no sense.”

“What I meant was . . . ,” I start again, and try and convert it to Malloy language. “The kid's a dolt,” I say. I flash back to Sassy in the cafeteria at school. “She's always laughing at me and rolling her eyes and chirping at me—”

“She?” Jett raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Dude, the cold's getting to you.”

“I mean,
he
. Yeah, um, like—” I start, then I stop. I don't know how to explain it. “I just . . . ,” I try, but then I give up.

“First, little man.” Jett hesitates; his voice gets serious suddenly. “Look, it was ballsy to take a go at him. You're a beast, bud. Nails. I'll always have your back, you know that.” Jett stops, looks me in the eye, nods, and holds up his fist.

I'm kind of thrilled when I realize he wants to tap fists.

Our knuckles collide, and icy water spills out of both our tubs.

“Let's be honest, though.” Jett picks back up. “Clowns just thrive on getting a reaction out of you.”

I shrug. “I guess.”

His eyes brighten. “There's your answer, big boy. Basically ignore the guy. You don't need that in your life, bro. Let it slide.”

I nod.

Jett flashes me his huge smile. “Keep it real, Jacko. Be you. Don't have time for haters. Stay positive. Work hard. Be humble. Surround yourself with the right people. Focus on what you can control, bud.” He winks. “Keep moving forward.”

I listen and nod. Even though I don't really understand exactly what he means, every time Jett talks, it makes me think. He has this aura about him. He's just a real confident person. When he talks, you listen and honestly believe him. My eyes catch a glimpse of the shining gold pendant hanging from the thin chain around Jett's neck. I instinctively feel up around my neck too, tug on Jack's identical pendant, hold it between my fingers like a good-luck charm.

“You know what?” Gunner chimes in. “Jett's right, bud, I couldn't have said it better. Guys say stupid stuff, man. Don't listen to what anyone else says about you. Don't get caught up in all that. You got to know when to fight and know when to walk away, bud.”

“Scared dogs bark the loudest, bro!” offers Stryker. “Dude sounds like a plug. Probably jealous.”

Sassy . . . jealous
? I think about this in a cold-induced haze, and for a few more long minutes, the four of us soak in quiet until—

With absolutely no warning?

Jett stands straight up!

Stands. Up.

Yes. I see it. I see—

E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G
.

“Good sesh, boys!” Jett announces, ice and water dripping off him and gushing out over the side of the tub as he jumps out. The idea to shut my eyes? It's like on some sort of cold delay.

But I do. I shut them tight. And I'm thinking:
Wow. Just. Like wow
. And I kind of laugh. Never thought I'd see
that
when I woke up yesterday.

When I open my eyes, the three of them are standing on the grass with their crazy toned muscles and their white towels wrapped tight around their waists, grinning back at me like I'm an idiot.

“Never a dull moment with this kid. Apparently you missed the memo, big guy.” Gunner looks at me, just shaking his head, laughing. “Get out, man! You'll feel like you have pistons coming out of your hips! You'll feel like a machine! Trust me, bro.”

I stand up slowly and manage to climb out without doing a face-plant into the grass. Out of the ice bath, my legs almost burn. The air is so much warmer than the water. I stand next to the deck, clutching my arms, shivering. I'm pretty sure my lips are blue.

“Whooohoooo! How good does that feel!” Stryker screams, and nails me in the head with a towel. I copy the boys and wrap it tight around my waist. The four of us all look almost identical if not for age and my and Gunner's buzzed heads.

Jett throws his arm around me and pulls me in. He smells like salty sweat. He smells like work. “You know that's the best thing about having bros, bud.” He pauses and looks down at me with the kindest eyes. “We tell each other everything. No secrets.”

“Thanks, man,” I say quietly. “No secrets,” I repeat.

Honestly, I actually feel a little bit bad for a second. I feel this pang. Like I'm in on something special. Like I'm not supposed to see this. But just when I'm thinking that? Stryker creeps up behind me and rips my towel off and there go—

My boxers.

Sorry, Jack
.

“Stop!” I say. Okay. I scream. I wail. I let out the hugest cry.

The three of them are dying laughing.

Gunner can hardly get the words out. “Sometimes less is more, Jacko, and this is one of those times!”

Jett shakes his head, grinning. “Just remember, little buddy, everything shrinks!”

Stryker finally tosses my towel back. “Don't be alarmed, bud, it won't stay that way for long!”

I whip my boxers back up and wrap the towel tightly around my waist.

I don't even get it, but they're still laughing. They can't stop. It's like, I mean, it almost doesn't matter what they're laughing at. We're all so tired and wet and sore and sweaty, and honestly it sort of makes me laugh too.

“What?” I say, and look back at them, grinning.

Gunner comes right up to me and rubs my head, smiling. “Bro, sometimes you're dumber than a box of rocks, but I love you, man. I just love ya.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

SUMMER IS DRIVING. SMILING LIKE
Summer does. She glances over. “I think we did really well for a quick shop!”

“Sure, I guess,” I say, and try and not sound so completely relieved. Never would I have thought I'd actually survive a mother-daughter shopping spree. Summer reaches across the seat and places her hand on the back of my neck. It's weird, but I won't lie. I like it, I guess.

“Look at my little fashionista over there.” Summer winks. “I can't believe how much you're growing up. You're really good company, Ellie, and I love the new clothes you picked out. It did seem a little bit like I was torturing you with the marathon bra try-on session, but you need some nice things, honey.” She looks over at me and smiles. “You're growing up!”

I flash a smile back. I don't want to seem ungrateful. “So we're done, right?” I ask. “I mean, we're going home now, right?” I think about Freckles's room and her big bed. Being a girl is exhausting! I could go for a serious nap.

“Home?” Summer sounds shocked. “You're joking, right? Hello! The big surprise?” Her whole face smiles as she says it.

“Oh, yeah.” I grin. With Summer it's almost impossible not to smile back.

“You going to make it? Are you still tired?” Summer asks.

“No, I'm good,” I answer. I feel like I have to gut it out, you know, for Freckles. For Summer.

“Okay, so the surprise. I'll give you a hint,” she tells me. “And look, you'll probably resist this at first, but just hear me out.” She smiles at me sideways. “It involves a little bit of a trim.”

“A what?”

“Just a little hair snip,” she answers.

“Wait, what?” Oh, man. Freckles and I didn't cover this. “Uhh,” I stall.

“We really need to do something about your hair.”

Man, if Freckles touched my hair, I'd be so heated. But what am I supposed to do?

“Just a little trim, honey, because nobody can see your eyes!”

“Okay,” I answer. “Just a little trim.” It's honestly out of my mouth before I realize there's no going back.

Ten minutes later Summer and I step through the door of Butterfly Loft Salon and Spa, and I'm standing in front of a shiny, completely white desk with a waterfall backdrop. Like. A real waterfall. With water.

“See, sweetie,” she whispers. “Doesn't this place just ooze Zen? It has a fantastic vibe, right?” The biggest smile settles on her face. “Wait till you meet Devon. She's a true artist, you'll see.”

Almost at that second, this college-age girl walks toward us. “Hey, lovely ladies,” she says, grinning.

She's wearing a short red dress and scuffed-up cowgirl boots. I try and keep my mouth from falling open. This chick is absolutely smokin' hot.

“Too hot for you, bro,” Gunner would say.

Seriously, she looks like a movie star. Glossy black hair, perfect face, million-dollar smile.

She looks right at me, eyes shining. “Hey, pretty lady!” she says. Her face brightens, and I immediately feel incredibly nervous because she is extremely beautiful and I've fallen in love. She throws her arms around Summer, and the two of them hug like they're old friends.

“So good to see you, love,” says Summer, kissing her on the cheek.

When they finally let go, Summer smiles at me. “Devon, this is my daughter, Ellie!”

My heart speeds up. “Nice to meet you,” I say, holding out my hand and hoping my palm isn't sweaty.

Devon has a strong grip. Firm. “The pleasure is absolutely mine, Elle!”

Elle.
Sigh. I love the way she says it.
Elle.
Elllllle. Elle. Elle. Elle.

Devon looks at both of us with her eyebrows raised. “Okay, fabulous ladies! Well, let's get going.” She winks.

Something about her voice sends shivers down my spine.

“Okay,” I say. My voice sounds girlishly high and eager. “I mean, yeah, cool,” I try again.

Devon motions for me to follow her.

And I do. Oh, I do.

I try to snap out of it. I try not to watch the way she moves when she walks. I try, I do. When we get to the door that says treatment room and Devon stops and smiles again, I take a deep breath, but that doesn't really help because she smells like—

Man, she smells beautiful.

“So, Elle,” she says. Her eyes are, like, gorgeous. “This is the changing room.”

“Um, I don't need to change,” I tell her, and try not to stare. “I'm good.”