Switched (7 page)

“No. No. I'm not okay,” I told her. “I—I have to talk to Lucy.”

Both girls gaped at me in surprise.

“But Lucy isn't here!” Margie declared.

I turned to Lucy's seat.

She was gone.

“W
here—where did she go?” I stammered.

Hannah twirled the wrapper from a straw between her fingers. She gazed at Margie, then narrowed her hazel eyes at me. “Lucy? She wasn't here, Nicole.”

“I saw her,” I replied sharply.

Margie patted the cushion next to her. “Sit down, Nicole. Are you okay?”

“Lucy was here,” I insisted, ignoring Margie's request. “I saw her when I came in. The three of you . . . you were arguing over the last slice.”

I glanced down at the pizza tin. Empty except for a wedge of crust.

“No,” Margie insisted softly. “It's just Hannah and me.

“You let her get away!” I cried shrilly.

“Nicole—please. Sit down,” Margie insisted.

Margie and Hannah were in this together, I realized. Lucy had told them about our switching bodies. Now they were protecting her. They distracted me and allowed Lucy to slip away.

But why were they helping her? I wondered. They were my friends, too.

I crossed my arms tightly in front of me, to hold myself in, to keep myself from exploding. “I
know
you talked to Lucy!” I cried angrily. “If you didn't talk to her, how do you know that I'm Nicole?”

They both gaped at me. Hannah's mouth dropped open.

They couldn't answer the question. I had caught them in their lie.

“Nicole—” Margie started. She stepped out of the booth and tried to grab me.

But I was too fast for her. I spun away and started jogging down the long aisle to the door. “I know she's here. I'm going to find her!” I shouted back.

I heard Margie call my name. But I ducked around a group of tough-looking guys in muscle shirts and black denims who were entering the restaurant—and dived out the door.

Lucy is here and she couldn't have gone far, I told myself.

I crossed the mall walkway to the CD store and peered up and down. It was late, I realized. Several of the stores were closing for the night. Lights were dimming. Salespeople were locking doors.

The mall was nearly deserted. A few late shoppers were making their way to the parking lot.

I turned one way, then the other, trying to guess which direction Lucy had headed.

She must have driven here, I decided. Unless she came with Margie and Hannah. When she saw me enter the pizza restaurant, she ducked out to escape to the parking lot.

Walking quickly, I made my way to the exit. I peered into each store I passed, searching the nearly empty aisles for her.

“Whoa!” My heart skipped a beat as I squinted into the Clothes Closet, one of Lucy's favorite stores. I thought I saw her in the back of the store, holding up a pink blouse, discussing it over the counter with a salesgirl.

I turned into the store and began running through the aisle, waving and calling her name. I was halfway to the back when I saw the girl's face clearly.

And realized it wasn't Lucy.

They turned to me, startled. “Can I help you?” the salesgirl asked.

“No, no, thanks,” I replied breathlessly. “I—I was looking for someone.” I turned and hurried out of the store.

The music cut off as I stepped back into the main
walkway. A strange silence settled over the mall. I heard a baby crying somewhere down the aisle. Shouted voices. The clatter of shopping cart wheels.

Without the background music, they all sounded sort of eerie. Too loud. Not normal.

I stepped out through the first exit I came to. The broad parking lot was nearly deserted. A woman in a bright blue halter top and blue shorts was loading shopping bag after shopping bag into the trunk of a beat-up car. Two little kids were jumping up and down in the backseat.

Several cars were easing out of the lot, turning onto Division Street. Bright headlights rolled over me, forcing me to shield my eyes, as I hurried through row after row, searching for Lucy.

No luck. I was too slow, I realized. She got away.

Angrily, I shoved a shopping cart out of my way. It clattered noisily over the pavement, coming to rest against a curb.

I turned and spotted my car two rows down.

“Hey—!” I cried out in surprise when I saw Lucy—in my body—waiting for me at the side of the car.

“L
ucy—hi!” I shouted. “I'm here!”

My sneakers thudded hard over the asphalt as I began running toward her.

“Lucy—you're here! I—I've been searching all over for you!”

Now maybe we can get things straight, I told myself. Maybe Lucy will tell me what's going on.

Even from a distance, she appeared tense. She had both arms down stiffly at her sides, her hands balled into tight fists. “Nicole!” she called.

Not her voice.

Not Lucy's voice.

I stepped up beside her, breathing hard.

“Nicole—we have to talk.”

Not her voice. Not her face.

Margie's face.

Margie grabbed me, squeezing my throbbing shoulders with both hands. She turned and called to a car several rows down. “She's here, Hannah. Hannah—I've got Nicole!”

I blinked several times, willing Margie away. Willing Lucy in her place.

But it was Margie. Not Lucy. My eyes had played a cruel trick on me.

“She's right here!” Margie called to Hannah. I saw Hannah step around the other car and start toward us.

“No!” I shrieked.

What were they doing here? Why had they followed me?

“I—I have to find Lucy,” I stammered. “I know she told you. I know she told you we switched bodies.”

Margie placed a hand on my shoulder. “Calm down, Nicole,” she said softly, as if talking to a child. “We just want to talk to you. We just—”

“No!”
I screamed. The anger roared through my body.
“No!”

They were trying to stop me, trying to hold me there, trying to help Lucy get away.

I shoved Margie out of my way, shoved her with all my strength.

She uttered a surprised yelp and stumbled backward, over the curb. She toppled to the hard surface.

Turning, I saw Hannah running toward us. “Wait! Wait!” she called.

But I didn't wait. I pulled open the car door and dived inside. Margie was back on her feet. She reached for the door—as I slammed it.

“Nicole—!” She pounded on the window with both fists. “Nicole—wait! Please!”

I found the key in the ignition. A bad habit of mine. But now I was glad.

I started the car.

Margie pounded on the window. Then she made a grab for the door handle.

I clicked down the door lock.

I shoved the gearshift into Reverse.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw Hannah step up behind the car to block my path.

Wow!
I thought.
They really want to stop me from getting to Lucy!

Hannah waved both hands, signaling for me not to back over her. I stared at her in the rearview mirror. Her cornrow braids blew wildly around her face. Her eyes were wide with fright.

Why were Hannah and Margie so frightened? Why were they so desperate to keep me here?

Had Lucy threatened them?

Had Lucy threatened to murder them, too, if they didn't help her escape?

Margie pounded on my window. Hannah waved wildly from behind the car, blocking my escape.

Uttering a cry of rage, I pulled the gearshift into Drive and slammed my foot down on the gas pedal.

The little Civic let out a roar as it bumped over the curb. My head snapped back as the car jumped onto the narrow square of concrete dividing the rows.

Margie made a last frantic grab for the door handle. Missed. Stumbled back.

I bounced down into the next row. The car shot forward.

I could still hear the two girls shouting my name as I roared away.

I
drove around town, trying to calm down, trying to think clearly. But my thoughts circled aimlessly round and around, much like my little car.

So many questions crammed my brain. So many questions that I didn't have answers to.

But Kent can help me.

The words flashed into my troubled mind.

Kent can help me.

The thought swept the questions away. I made a wide U-turn and pressed harder on the gas, heading to Kent's house.

Lucy took all of her clothes, I remembered. That meant she planned to go somewhere. Probably somewhere far away from Shadyside.

She wouldn't leave Shadyside without telling Kent,
I knew. Lucy and Kent were so close. I knew she confided everything to him.

Kent wouldn't talk to me the first time I visited him. But this time, I told myself, I will
make
him talk. I will make him tell me everything. I will force him to tell me where Lucy went.

I thought about my first short meeting with him, hours before. He saw that I looked like Lucy. But he believed me when I said I was really Nicole. And now that I think about it, Kent wasn't shocked at all. That meant he knew that Lucy and I had switched bodies.

That meant he had talked to Lucy this afternoon or evening.

Before
Lucy murdered her parents?

Or
after
she had murdered them?

I'll force him to tell me this time, I vowed.

I pulled the car to the curb in front of Kent's house. I gazed over the smooth, sloping lawn to the familiar redbrick house.

Lights were on downstairs. The porchlight was on.

I stepped out of the car and carefully closed the door, careful not to make a sound.

I had decided to surprise Kent, to catch him off guard. To frighten him—just enough to make him tell the truth.

I started up the driveway, keeping in the shadows, away from the square of light that washed onto the lawn from the porch. As I made my way past the front
walk and along the side of the house, crickets began to chirp shrilly, as if warning Kent I was coming.

Their whistle grew louder and louder. It sounded deafening to me. I heard every sound, clearer than normal. The scrape of my sneakers on the driveway. The rustle of the wind through the trees along the drive.

As I crept onto the back stoop, the crickets stopped their chirping, as suddenly as they had started. I peered into the window on the kitchen door. A dim light over the stove provided the only brightness.

I turned the knob and pushed. The kitchen door slid open easily.

Leaning on the knob, I pushed the door open all the way, and slipped into the house. The linoleum floor squeaked under my weight.

I stopped. Listened.

I could hear music in the front of the house. Loud rock music from the den.

Good, I thought. It probably means Kent is home alone. He wouldn't be playing the music so loud downstairs if his parents were home.

My eyes darted around the kitchen. They stopped at the knife holder above the white Formica counter.

I crossed the room, studied the knives in the holder, and pulled out a long-bladed kitchen knife.

I'll scare him with this, I told myself.

I'll raise the blade high. I'll back him into a corner.

I'll frighten him into talking. I'll make him think
that I plan to use it on him—if he doesn't tell me the truth about Lucy. If he doesn't tell me all that he knows.

The knife felt heavy and uncomfortable in my hand. I adjusted my hand around the handle. I always teased Lucy about her tiny hands. I always told her she'd have baby hands for the rest of her life.

Now I wished I had my own hands back. My big, long-fingered hands were stronger. They would have held the kitchen knife more comfortably.

I took a deep breath, edging my way to the front of the house. Thinking hard about how I would play this.