The Swap (21 page)

I'd be lying if I didn't say I notice that too, but yeah. I know this sounds so soft, but there's something different about Mackenzie. She's just really friendly and laid-back, and nice.

I take a deep breath and look around the room. Holy buckets, am I sweating.
Breathe, Jack. Just breathe
.

For half a second I close my eyes and wonder if I'm dreaming. Only I know I'm not, because when I open them, Mackenzie squeezes her fingers tighter, pulling me toward her, and whispers into my ear again. “Seriously, who does she think she is, right? It's
so
not okay to be rude! I'm just not into that.”

I have no idea what Mackenzie is talking about, and I feel bad that I'm mostly focused on the way our palms feel pressed together and the way she smells and how much I want her to keep whispering.

Please. Keep. Whispering
.

“I mean, really.” She keeps going. “If you don't like someone, just leave them alone, right? Get over yourself.”

“Totally,” I answer, nodding, eager to impress. “If someone messed with you, I'd rip their head off!” I tell her before I realize what just came out of my mouth.

“Ha, thanks, Elle!” She laughs and scrunches into me even closer. “But, like, I'm not even joking.” She pauses, then goes on, “Honestly, she's a total drama queen!”

“Wait.” I manage a shy smile. “
Who
are you talking about?” I finally ask.

She leans in.

More whispering? Yes, please
.

“Sassy!
” she breathes.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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

WHEN I REACH THE BOTTOM
of the stairs, the room is completely dark, and the only light I see is the flashing from a giant TV screen. I try and act all casual as I step over three empty pizza boxes and sink into the very end of the huge leather sofa, my knees pressed together, my arms folded tightly. I try to not pay attention to the fact that I am sitting in a mostly dark, smelly basement with six eighth-grade boys, all shirtless, in jeans with their boxers peeking out.

“Duuuude, welcome to the lair! Nice buzz, broskinator!”

I know that voice.
Sammy
.

“Oh, ah, hey,” I say, trying to sound laid back. “'Sup, bro?” I almost grin.

Where'd I get that from?

I can see his face now. It
is
Sammy. When he smiles through the dim light, this boyish mischief comes out of his eyes. He's sitting on the couch across from me. “Dog, how's your nose since the scrap? Chicks lovin' on your fat lip?”

“I'm fine,” I say. It's weird, but for the first time I actually think I kind of sound like Jack. I sit back. I stay quiet. I watch the gun battle on the huge screen. Listen to the explosions.

Owen is sprawled out on the floor. No pillow. “Dutes is so sick,” he says. He sounds a little bit like he's in a video-game trance.

“Dutes?” I repeat. I don't mean to, it just comes out.

“Dude,
Call of Duty
?” Sammy tells me. “What's wrong with you?”

“Ha.” I laugh awkwardly. “I'm just playin' with you.”

“Dude.” A fourth voice speaks. “You're crushing my K.D. right now! This guy is running around with Marathon Pro, knifing me in the back.”

Then a fifth: “Oh, yeah! Sit down! Dominated! Did you see that?”

One more: “I could sit here all night, quick scoping fools!”

Huh?

Once my eyes adjust to the darkness, with the help of the flashing light coming from the TVs, I scan the faces in the room. It's all the same eighth-grade guys Jack hangs out with at the pool all summer. I don't really know any of them but I know who they are: Owen, Sammy, Demaryius, this kid Trey. Plus two other guys—and the only reason I know who they are is because Brayden and Dominic Hersh went to my elementary school. They're twins. It smells like sweaty feet down here. Chips, empty soda cans. I'm not really one to call out a mess, but it's seriously kind of gross. I stay huddled on the couch, my legs folded underneath me, until Owen stands, walks over, and shoves the game controller into my hands. “Yo,” he tells me. “I gotta take a leak. Take over, man!”

“What? No!” I say a little too loud, and push the plastic thing away.

Owen looks back at me, shocked. “Dude, I don't even know what you're saying right now. Are you kidding? You don't want in? Come on, dude, my K.D. is gonna go downhill, man.”

“No, I'm good, really,” I answer. I sit on my hands and sink farther back into the couch. “I'm just gonna chill.”

“Are you crazy, dude? I'll take it!” Demaryius grabs the controller out of Owen's hands. “That's the first time in my life I ever saw Jack Malloy turn down
COD
. First time for everything, I guess!”

I sit there patiently for . . . I don't know? At least an hour while nobody even talks. It's so weird! I just stare at the gun barrels on the enormous flat screen, and watch explosions, and shooting, and listen to random video game commentary that sounds something like this:

“Dude, I just
dominated
you!”

“Dude, I absolutely destroyed you!”

“Dude, watch out, they're camping, man.”

Camping?

“Dude! There's two campers in that room. Watch out, bro!”

Hour number two is almost an identical scene, except every now and then Sammy brings up girls. And if you'd like to picture this, keep in mind that boys—these boys? They do not stop what they're doing to talk to each other. They talk while focused entirely on shooting zombies and just blurt out random stuff.

Sammy: “Dude, seriously! Do you know who is so hot?”

Trey: “Aspen?”

Sammy: “Oh, dude. She's so bangin'!”

Brayden: “She's a ten, bro.”

Dominic: “Not gonna lie, she can rock the yoga pants.”

Sammy: “Boys, she'll be all over me!”

Trey: “In your dreams, maybe. You're in more friend zones than anyone, dude.”

Sammy: “Whatever, man! Don't mean to pump my own tires, but you'll see. Let me go to work.”

Dominic: “Sammy, dude. You seriously need to stop talking!”

All the boys have a good laugh, even Sammy.

I shut my eyes. I'm so tired from the day. The mountain, The Cage. The ice bath . . .

I have no idea how long I sleep. It's still dark when I open my eyes. I squint through the pulsing flashing light from gunfire and explosions coming from the screen. The boys are still glued to their game. I have drool on my lip. But I only sit quietly for a few seconds before Owen's mom walks in, carrying pizza boxes with a twelve-pack of soda on top. Might be the best thing I've seen all day.

Nobody looks up at her but me.

“Owen,” she says, sounding kind of irritated. “Owen, put that thing down and look at me, please!” She stands at the door, her arms full. “Boys, I brought you down some pizza, some wings—they're extra hot—and soda pop. Please try and not make a complete mess, boys?
Boys!
Owen!”

Owen looks up quickly. “Sorry, Mom, can't talk, I'm . . .
His voice trails off, then he picks back up. “Duuuude! Unbelievable! Did you see that? Obliterated him. Playing with the big boys now, son!”

Owen's mom sets the pizza boxes, the wings, and the soda down on the table. I jump up and help her clear a space. I can't even tell you how excited I am to eat.
Food!
She watches as I open up the boxes and lift steaming-hot slices, setting them down on paper plates and handing them to the boys.

“Jack Malloy,” she says, sounding grateful, “I can always count on you to be a total gentleman.”

After the pizza, we play some football. Not outside. We're still in the half-dark basement. Everyone's still shirtless but me. It's another video game. Owen is particularly awesome at it.

“
Madden
all day all night, baby!” he says, wide-eyed. “Anyone who thinks they can compete with this machine, let's get it. It's about to go down!”

“Dude, I think you may seriously have a gaming problem!” says Demaryius. He playfully shoves Owen sideways, but Owen just pops back up, bug eyes still glued to the screen, grinning broadly, the game controller still gripped tightly in his hands.

They all laugh. Even I do. Owen's so sweet and kind of adorable and it's impossible not to like him. And what the heck, I even play. I grip the controller and just start pressing buttons, even though I have no idea what they do. I watch, smiling, as my little guy runs down the field, ball tucked under his arm, the crowd cheering him on. I don't even mind when they tease me.

“Brutal, Mallsy.” Trey bursts out laughing. “Quit playin' with us, you noob!”

“Oh, man, you have to be joking, dude,” says Demaryius. “You're running the wrong way!”

“Nice job, buddy!” says Dominic, clapping his hands, mocking me. “You are good.
Not!
”

Honestly? It's kind of a relief to sit and play and not have to talk. I'm actually having a pretty good time. I'd even use the word fun. And I'm thinking,
this isn't really so bad—
when, as if on cue, Sammy unveils his plan for the night.

He's fiddling with his phone. “Yo, dudes, I just got a text,” he tells us, without looking up. “Do you want to meet the girls at the playground?”

The room falls silent for a few excruciating seconds.

Girls? Oh, god.

Trey burps loudly. I can smell it. Pepperoni pizza. “Who's going?” he asks.

“My future wife's gonna be there,” says Sammy. He looks up. “No, for real. Sassy, Aspen, Claire, that whole seventh-grade scene.”

Demaryius turns to Sammy. “Dude, Sassy Gaines? She's smoking hot, but she's—”

“She wears too much makeup, bro,” finishes Dominic. “Plus, she talks so much she would give a woodpecker a headache.”

“Duuude,” Sammy argues. “She's a ten! She's totally hot. Her body is out of control!”

“No, man, it's not that she's not hot.” Demaryius stops to kickoff, then continues. “She's a stunner, I'll give you that. But seriously, dude, she talks too much. I'm just, like, shut up! She's rude too. Fake. It's not cute to be so desperate for attention. Have you ever listened to her for, like, more than five seconds? All she does is make fun of people. I don't even want to be around her. I'm just, like, grow up!”

Brayden flops back on the couch, kicking his feet up. “That-a-boy, just say what you feel, Demaryius. It's called being real! You're the man, buddy!”

“Ha. Yeah. I'm that guy. You're welcome!” Demaryius laughs. “Seriously, dude, nothing's worse than a hot girl full of negativity, man.”

My chest tightens and my ears get hot and I feel like I'm hearing something I'm not supposed to hear. I hand the controller to Owen and fold my arms and try and act like I'm totally not listening even though I totally am.

I kind of don't want them to stop.

“Yo, Mallsy.” Brayden raises his palm toward me for a high-five. “That chick's in love with you.”

Oh my gosh. This is about to get real awkward
.

Trey beams me with a pillow. “Kid's head's in the clouds as usual.”

Laughter.

“Seriously, Mallsy,” Brayden says, nodding. “You can deny it, but Sassy Gaines is all over your action, bro! Have you seen the way she stared at you all summer at the pool? Stalker, dude.”

“Whatever,” I mutter, shaking my head and trying not to look as absolutely uncomfortable as I feel.

Dominic laughs. “Let's be honest, dude, we all know the ladies love your mug. Face it. You got swag without even trying, bro. You need to capitalize! Get some!”

Oh my god.

“Ha! Notice how he doesn't deny it, stud!” Trey says, laughing. “This guy is all smiles right now. Yeah, Mallsy, pretty sure most guys would love to be you.”

I need to change the subject fast. This isn't going anywhere good.

“Come on, please,” I try. It's pathetic when I hear how the words sound. “Like, I mean, come on,
pleeeease
? Will you guys just stop?”

Brayden shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “One of those awkward moments where a guy acts like a girl and you don't know what to say. You're hilarious, Mallsy!”

I pretend to laugh too. I can feel my cheeks heat up.

Sammy stands and brushes the crumbs off his jeans. “Okay, no question about it, we're going, right? We're going to meet them? Who's in?”

Owen glances at me, his eyes flicking between me and the TV. “Can't we just stay here?” he asks, sounding nervous. “We can play
Minecraft
,
Halo
,
Madden
. . . you choose, Sammy. We can play anything you want, man.”

Owen puts the controller down and stands up, walks over to the couch, and sinks down right next to me. “Truth is”—Owen looks at Sammy as he talks—“if we get caught I'm toast, dude. You won't even get in trouble. Your parents let you do
anything
, Sammy. Seriously, man, you could do almost anything and get away with it. Dude, it's different for you, you don't understand. Jack and I will get grounded for the rest of our lives.”