Switched (3 page)

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’ve had friends before. Gone to parties. Kissed a girl. The whole nine yards,” Matt said as he went through the side door into the house.

“So you say.” I kicked off my shoes as soon as we walked in the kitchen, which was still in various stages of unpacking. After as many times as we’d moved, everyone had gotten tired of the whole unpacking/packing process, so we tended to live mostly out of boxes. “I’ve only seen one of these alleged girls.”

“Yeah, cause when I brought her home, you set her dress on fire!

While she was wearing it!” Matt had pulled off his sunglasses and looked at me severely with his deep blue eyes.

“Oh come on! That was an accident and you know it!” I protested.

“So you say,” Matt countered and opened the fridge.

“Anything good in there?” I asked hopefully and hopped onto the kitchen island. “I’m famished.”

“Probably nothing you’d like.” Matt started sifting through the contents of the fridge, but he was probably right. I was a notoriously picky eater. While I had never purposely sought out the life of a vegan, I seemed to hate most things that either had meat in them or man-made synthetics. It was odd, and incredibly irritating for the people who tried to feed me. “Oh. We have plain yogurt.”

“Oh yum!” I clapped my hands together. It was one of the big generic tubs of it, and he tossed at me. I opened the drawer next to my legs and pulled 17

out a spoon. I’d probably eat the full tub in one sitting, and I’d still be starving afterwards. It was maddening.

Maggie appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, flecks of paint stuck in her blond curls. Her ratty overalls were covered in layers of multi-colored paint, proof of all the rooms she had redecorated over the years. She had her hands on her hips, and she didn’t look too happy to see either of us, so Matt cautiously shut the fridge door.

“I thought I told you to tell me when you got home,” Maggie glared at him.

“We’re home?” Matt offered sheepishly.

“I can see that,” Maggie rolled her eyes, and then turned her attention to me. “I got a call today from Ms. Page.”

“Sorry,” I said gulping down a spoonful of yogurt. “Isn’t it nice that you don’t have a job so you can get calls during the day?” She narrowed her eyes at me.

“You know that I don’t work because I can’t work. You are a full-time job.” Maggie crossed her arms over her chest.

The thing is, I don’t think she’s exaggerating. All the time she’s had to spend getting me in and out of school, cleaning up my messes, and moving us around, I don’t know how she would’ve had time to establish a career. Luckily, my loony mom and dead dad left us with enough money so she didn’t need to work.

“Sorry,” I repeated and looked down at my yogurt, stirring it slowly. “I talked to Ms. Page and I promised I would try harder.”

“We’ve heard that before,” Maggie said wearily.

“Well, yeah… but I am really trying,” I insisted and looked to Matt for help. “I mean, I actually promised Matt this time. And I’m making a friend.”

Maggie tried not to let on how much that simple fact delighted her. She wanted to hang on to her anger so she could punish me, but she looked to Matt to corroborate my story.

18

“She was actually talking to a guy. They were smiling and everything,”

Matt admitted.

“Like

a

guy
guy?” Her smile was growing and I could tell she was on the brink of gushing. The idea of this guy being a romantic prospect hadn’t crossed Matt’s mind before, and he suddenly tensed up, looking over at me with a new scrutiny. Fortunately for him, that idea hadn’t crossed my mind either.

“No, nothing like that,” I shook my head. “He’s just a guy. He’s kind of goofy, I guess. I don’t know. He seems nice enough.”

“Nice? Goofy?” Maggie really wanted to hug me. “That’s a start! And much better than that anarchist with the tattoo on his face.”

“We weren’t friends,” I corrected her. “I just stole his motorcycle.

While he happened to be on it.”

Nobody had ever really believed that story, but it was true. To this day I couldn’t really explain how I had done it. I had just been thinking that I really wanted his bike, and then I was looking at him and he was listening to me. I don’t know. At any rate, that story is exactly how I lost my driver’s license.

Theoretically, Maggie could’ve gotten a lawyer and fought it, but she thought I deserved it. Besides that, I think both she and Matt felt safer knowing I couldn’t drive.

“So this really is gonna be a new start for us?” Maggie couldn’t hold back her excitement any longer. Her blue eyes had started to well with happy tears, and I did my best to try not to look irritated by her obvious joy. “Wendy, this is just so wonderful! We can really make a home here!”

With that, she literally squealed and dashed over to me. She hugged me so tightly and so suddenly she almost knocked the yogurt from my hands, but I don’t think she would’ve cared. For the most part, I tended to barely tolerate hugs. I looked reproachfully at Matt over Maggie’s shoulder as she squeezed me to her, but his eyes were warning me not to say anything. I had a habit of ruining moments like this for Maggie, but I had promised to work on accepting them.

19

“I’m so proud of you!” Maggie gushed into my shoulder. Then she realized she was leaving out Matt, so she loosened her grip on me just enough so she could extend an arm back to him. “I’m so proud of you both! Come on, Matt! Group hug!”

“Yeah, Matt, group hug,” I added dryly and forced a smile.

Matt tended to be just slightly fonder of physical contact than I was, but he smiled and did as he was told. Maggie pulled him in close and we made an awkward tri-hug. Somewhere in the middle of the discomfort, I had actually managed to enjoy myself.

20

2

They had given me a study hall fourth period in an attempt to help me catch up on my work, but I had been using it for napping. At one end of the library, buried amongst the reference books and an out dated card catalogue, they had a few round tables scattered about. That’s where study hall was held. The librarian was at the other side of the room, and she would occasionally come check on us, but she didn’t really care what we were doing. The room was massive with insanely high ceilings topped with sky lights, and there was this constant sound of white noise, so she couldn’t hear anything we were saying anyway.

Unfortunately, I had promised to crack down on my studies, so I felt obligated to actually do that. I had briefly considered sitting at a table by myself, but Patrick was already down there, sitting alone, so I thought I had better join him. It was all part of my initiative to fit in and act like a normal teenager. Since I spent most of the time or somewhere else napping, I hadn’t really noticed any of the kids that had study hall with me. That meant that I hadn’t noticed Finn, either, who slunk in a few minutes after I did and took a seat at the table behind me.

“So what are you working on?” Patrick asked me jovially, as if schoolwork were an amusing topic. He had his English book open to
The Lottery
by Shirley Jackson, a short story I had also been assigned to read. It was like five pages long, but I hadn’t gotten past the title.

“Um, English,” I decided. I needed to read it anyway, and since that’s what he was working on, maybe he could help me. “I have to read that too.”

“It’s pretty weird,” Patrick assured me with wide eyed seriousness.

There was something tremendously innocent about him, and despite myself, I found that kind of endearing. “I’m gonna warn you. I’m a little shocked we read this in school.”

21

“What do you mean?” I bent over to dig my English text book out of my bag, and I just happened to glance back at the table behind us.

Finn sat by himself, his slender fingers absently straightening out his black hair. He had his head bowed, looking at his biology book, but only for a second. He must’ve sensed me looking at him, because he almost instantly lifted his eyes to meet mine. I wanted to keep looking at him and beat him at his little staring contest, but I failed immediately. Quickly grabbing my textbook, I turned to look at Patrick, who had launched into an explanation of
The Lottery.

“Its just so disturbing,” Patrick shook his head. “I know it’s mostly an allegory, but… I just can’t believe that people would ever be like that. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just naïve.”

“People are pretty disturbing,” I shrugged. I was trying to keep my mannerisms and my conversations nonchalant, but it was hard to act natural when I knew I had an audience, in the form of Finn staring at the back of me.

“You think so?” Patrick’s forehead creased in confusion and concern.

Something about my tone of voice had given away too much. Plus, I think I had that face that kind of screamed “emotionally damaged.”

“Yeah, I’d say so.” My hand instinctively went to my stomach, where the foot long scar was safely hidden underneath my shirt. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I pulled it a way and busied my hand with twirling a stray hair around my fingers.

“Is that why you transferred here?” Patrick asked.

“Cause people are disturbing?” I smiled, purposely hedging his question.

“No, I don’t know,” Patrick laughed and ran a hand through his thick hair. “That’s probably too personal, anyway. Sorry.”

“No, it’s not that personal,” I lied.

Truthfully, it wasn’t actually that personal. I planned on answering him, but for some reason, I just knew that Finn was listening, even more intently than he had been before. He wanted to know my answer, maybe more than Patrick did, and I shifted uncomfortably. I wanted to steal a look at him out of 22

the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t without it being incredibly obvious that I was trying to spy on him spying on me.

“No, it’s making you uncomfortable! I’m sorry,” Patrick looked pained and his cheeks showed a hint of blush. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no,” I shook my head again. “I just… I got kicked out.” Instead of hiding things, I decided to go the other route, and I raised my voice. Not so I was yelling or anything, but just loud and clear enough so Finn could hear everything perfectly. That would show him… something. That I wasn’t afraid and I wouldn’t be intimidated.

“For what?” Patrick had already forgotten his unease about prying and leaned in closer to me.

“Same thing I always get kicked out for,” I shrugged like it was no big deal. “Fighting. This last time I broke a girl’s nose and the family threatened legal action.” I waved it away like it wasn’t anything, but Patrick eyed me up skeptically.

My appearance was deceiving. I was short and small, and I had a decidedly pretty, feminine face. My brown hair was a constant untamed mess of curls that I did my best to keep up in a loose buns or pulled back in some way so it wouldn’t completely take over my face. I had a rather tragic fashion sense with a penchant for skirts, which I think subconscious attempt at spiting my mother. She always tried to force me to wear them, and I refused. So now I wear them when she can’t see them. I’m sure I came across as a frazzled mess, but I was anything but.

“You? Got in a fight?” Patrick cocked an eyebrow, grinning suspiciously at me.

“Hey, I’m tough!” I protested. I thought about flexing my arms to demonstrate, but I was still acutely aware of Finn watching behind us. “I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

“I bet you are,” Patrick nodded earnestly, and at least he believed that.

“So anyway… what’s the deal with the story?” I tapped his open book, meaning to actually work on something.

23

“Have you read any of it?” Patrick asked.

“Just the title,” I admitted sheepishly.

“You should read it. It’s good… but really twisted,” Patrick turned his book towards me so I could look at his instead of opening mine and scooted his chair closer to me.

Patrick offered helpful asides as I read the story, and even though I didn’t necessarily need them, I enjoyed them. Or at least I would’ve, if I hadn’t become incessantly preoccupied. The back of my neck had started itching from Finn staring at it. That sounds totally paranoid and insane, and it probably was somatic, but I couldn’t help it. I kept self-consciously scratching it and rubbing it, hoping to ease the sensation, but it was useless. I had to read the same sentence four times and still didn’t understand it. On top of that, Patrick kept talking to me, and I couldn’t even concentrate on what he was saying.

“Excuse me,” I said abruptly and stood up. It was stupid for me to just sit there like that. I don’t know why I was giving that idiot Finn kid so much power over me.

“Okay?” Patrick asked, startled and confused.

When I turned around, Finn was staring at me, just as I knew he would be. Unlike Patrick, his expression didn’t register any uncertainty or surprise.

Swallowing hard, I walked over to his table, and I was a little stunned to find that I felt nervous. I almost never
felt nervous, and there was nothing to even be nervous about. This kid was just looking at me, nothing more.

“Why are you staring at me?” I asked him pointedly.

“Because you’re standing in front of me,” Finn replied simply. He looked up at me, his eyes framed by dark lashes, and there wasn’t any hint of embarrassment or even denial about being confronted. It was definitely unnerving.

“You’re

always
staring at me,” I persisted, trying to be as calm and collected as he was. “It’s weird. You’re weird.”

“I wasn’t trying to fit in,” Finn said. I twisted my ring on my thumb and hated that I had to fumble for a response.

24

“Why do you look at me all the time?” I rephrased my original question.

“Does it bother you?” Finn’s eyes flashed at something that might have been surprise, but it disappeared so quickly, it was probably nothing more than my imagination.

“Answer the question,” I demanded and stood up straighter, trying to make my presence more imposing so he wouldn’t realize how much he was rattling me.

“Everyone always looks at you,” Finn replied coolly and leaned back in his chair. “You’re very attractive.”