The Swap

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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Advance Reader's e-proof

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HarperCollins Publishers

This is an advance reader's e-proof made from digital files of the uncorrected proofs. Readers are reminded that changes may be made prior to publication, including to the type, design, layout, or content, that are not reflected in this e-proof, and that this e-pub may not reflect the final edition. Any material to be quoted or excerpted in a review should be checked against the final published edition. Dates, prices, and manufacturing details are subject to change or cancellation without notice.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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TK from author.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?

—HENRY DAVID THOREAU

Cover

Disclaimer

Title

Dedication

Epigraph

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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IT'S SUNNY AND IT'S SUMMER
and the three of us are sitting on the scratchy cement edge of the Riverside Swim Club pool, dangling our feet into the deep end. And by the three of us, I mean me (Ellie O'Brien), Sassy Gaines (my formerly best friend since forever), and Aspen Bishop (who moved here from California one month ago and apparently has taken my place). If you'd like to picture us, let me tell you this: Sassy and Aspen are side by side, dressed in pop-orange string bikinis with crisscross backs, “matchy-matchy” (as they like to say), long, sleek, and shiny yellow-blond hair framing their faces. They could pass for sisters—perfect features, perfectly straight teeth, pale-pink glossy lips glimmering in the sunshine.

In case you are wondering? My dark-red hair is wet and slicked back into a ponytail. I have a little bit of sunblock on my nose. I'm wearing my black, front- zip, short-sleeve Roxy Surfer Girl half wetsuit. My mom got it for me. I love it so much.

“So, Ellie?” Sassy flutter kicks her pink toenails, spraying water into the air. “What's going on with that one-piece?” She giggles. “Is that, like, sporty chic?”

They are both looking at me. Leaning back on their arms, smiling.

Aspen raises an eyebrow. “Are you, like, planning on riding some waves in your boy shorts?”

The two of them make the same face and burst out laughing.

I can feel my cheeks getting redder and redder.

“Oh, um, well . . . ,” I begin, then stop. I force myself to smile. I feel my heart kind of drop.

Aspen whispers something into Sassy's ear and they both instantly giggle.

“Um, no offense, but—” Sassy stares at me and shakes her head. “We're going into seventh grade! There are some basic rules. Duuuuuhhhhh! Some people seriously need to work on their style.”

Aspen chimes in. “Ellie,” she begins, pausing to cringe, “not to be rude or anything, but your freckles are, like,
seriously
out of control! Maybe you should think about using just a little bit of foundation or concealer?”

“Totally!” Sassy agrees. “But don't get the cheap cakey kind that clogs your pores! No. Ewww! That would be gross.”

Um, yeah.

Welcome to my life.

More?

Sure—

Sassy: “Um, no offense, but, guys, seriously, wheelie backpacks at the pool is
so
not okay!”

Aspen: “Not to be rude or anything, but why is that girl looking at me? I mean, sorry I'm hotter than you, okay?”

It doesn't feel good to listen, even when it's not about you. I am getting the worst feeling inside. I stare ahead across the pool and watch The Prince do a backflip off the diving board. The Prince is with a whole mess of other boys, but he's the only one with completely wild dark, wavy hair and tie-dye-blue eyes. He is definitely the only one with six-pack abs.

The Prince (as Sassy calls him) is Jack Malloy, and Jack Malloy is one year older than we are, and Jack Malloy is in eighth grade, and Jack Malloy is pretty much the most popular boy in Thatcher Middle School. He is handsome and mysteriously quiet and good at everything, including but not limited to every sport he plays and/or just looking cute and not saying a word. Yeah. He does that very well too.

Fact: Sassy is in
love
with Jack Malloy. Like, seriously obsessed! And she's
not
shy about letting everyone know it. She went all boy crazy at the beginning of the summer. It's kind of annoying and kind of weird. When The Prince is anywhere near us, she starts acting all different and, like, literally bats her eyelashes and acts suddenly super sweet and super fake. As soon as he's out of hearing range, she goes right back to being the Queen of Mean. This didn't used to bug me as much, but for some reason, ever since Aspen moved here at the beginning of the summer, the mean stuff Sassy says has started getting meaner. She usually blurts something out, then rolls her eyes and laughs really, really loud. “We're just joking, Ellie!” she'll say afterward. “We're just messing around.”

As I tell you this, I know it sounds so stupid that I'm even friends with her, that I actually desperately want her to like me again (I do, I really do), but that's Sassy. She is just that type of girl who you just want to like you. Do you know what I mean? You want her to like you and put her big prettiest-girl-in-the-school stamp of approval right across your forehead so everybody else can see—

You are liked!

You are loved!

You are cool!

Sassy Gaines says so!

But it is on this day, today, under the hot summer sun and the blue sky and right here at the pool as the three of us watch—but are pretending not to watch—shirtless six-pack JACK “I Have No Idea How Hot I Am” MALLOY, that Sassy says this:

“Ellie,” she starts. She looks at me, smiling, running her fingers through her loose hair and tossing her head back. “It's not
that
big a deal. There's just an incredibly awkward time in life where your nose is too big for your face, and you happen to be in it.”

I feel the tears coming from deep inside, starting in my stomach, charging up my throat. I swallow hard. I swear, I wish right this second that I could just disappear or that I could click my bare ankles like Dorothy from
The Wizard of Oz
and vanish into thin air. I drop my eyes and stare into the crystal-clear water. I imagine myself plunking in feetfirst, holding my breath, sinking, and sitting cross-legged at the bottom—Sassy and I used to do that all the time, in this very pool, for about a billion summers.

Except I don't jump in.

And I don't disappear.

I'm here, and I have the worst feeling wash over me.

“Oh my goooosh, Ellie!” Sassy exclaims, looking me up and down and scrunching up her nose.

I look back at her, like,
what?

“Ohmygoooooooooooooooshhhhh!” Both Sassy and Aspen fall back onto their shared beach towel, their faces to the sky, laughing so hard they can barely speak.

“Honestly, Ellie,” Sassy cries. “Your—” She stops, she's pointing down. She can't talk, she's giggling so hard.

“Oh my gosh,
stop
!” Aspen wipes the tears coming out of her eyes, careful to keep her black mascara from smudging.

My whole entire body just feels like it's shutting down. The only thing I want to do is leave. But I can't even get up. I can't even move. I don't say a word. I don't know what to do. I look off in the distance across the crowded pool: The Prince, his blue shorts hanging low on his hips, leaping off the board, effortlessly tucking into a somersault with two and a half twists, a ball of muscle flying through the air, entering the water with barely a splash. A second later he pops back up, whipping his wet dark hair out of his eyes, flashing a quiet smile at his fans. The boys on the side are just going nuts. “Dude! You killed it, man!” I hear one shout.

And I'm thinking how boys are
so
lucky they don't have to deal with this stuff, when—

“Ellie!” I hear.

I look back at Sassy and brace myself.

“Oh my gosh!” she shrieks. “I have honestly never laughed so hard! I'm dying!
Oh. My. God!
”

I can feel everyone watching now. Even the boys across the pool look up at us.

“Ellie, your legs—” Sassy squeals in an even louder voice, snorting back giggles. Then she finally spits it out, “Orangutan-man legs!”

Wait, what?

I force a smile and glance down. I never really noticed it before, the soft red hair growing out of my legs. My head just, like, totally becomes hot—

What am I even supposed to say?

I can barely breathe.

I look at Sassy, rolling on her towel in her tiny string bikini, holding her flat stomach as if her muscles hurt from laughing. I sort of fake laugh too. I play along. I mean, what else can I do? That's just how she is. She has that effect on people. When Sassy is talking, she doesn't really care how you feel. She just says rude things to your face and it's sort of an expected fact that for some reason (probably because she is so pretty and popular and she can go up and talk to any boy in the entire school), you sit there and take it.