The Swap (27 page)

“I'm sorry,” I mouth as I watch her being dragged off.

“Monday!” I call after her. I say it loud enough for everyone to hear.

I can see her look back over her shoulder at me.

The look in her eyes is total fear.

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HarperCollins Publishers

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THE CAPTAIN DOES NOT SAY
one word as I walk three steps behind him across the front of the school, down the hill to the truck. He doesn't yell. He doesn't even turn and look. He just walks out in front of me, at least ten steps ahead. And when we get to the truck, he gets in, reaches over, and unlocks the door on my side. I take a big breath before I vault myself up into the front seat and shut the door.

I can do this, I can do this
, I tell myself.

I swallow back all the fear that is charging up my throat. Try and block out my own voice yelling in my head:
I caused this whole mess. I should never have snuck out! I should have thought about Jack. I just got carried away and
—

I glance sideways at The Captain. He looks so angry, like he's not even breathing. He's just—

Fuming. Eyes straight ahead.

Oh my god. I ruined everything. I can't even imagine how much trouble Jack's going to be in.

The rumbling engine is the only sound, and I look out of the corner of my eye at The Captain again. But it's like I'm not even here. He just drives. He does not even say a word. He backs up the truck, pulls forward, and turns out of the school.

And I get it. I get this thing. It's like . . . not talking? The complete and utter silence . . .

The darkness.

I think it's honestly worse than if he was saying something. Anything! Worse than yelling. Oh, man. I bite on my lip. I breathe in.

Hold it together, Elle
, I tell myself.
You can do this. You can do this
. I say it over and over and over again in my head.

God, do I feel bad for Jack. My mom would never . . .

I lean my head against the window and stare into the dark, watch the streetlights on the side of the road flash against my eyes. I don't say a word. Are you crazy? I've only been a Malloy for a day and half, but I get it, okay? I know the drill.

Do not speak unless spoken to.

When The Captain pulls into the driveway and gets out, he doesn't slam the door. He shuts it and goes into the house and just leaves me there. Sitting alone. For a moment I'm relieved. But then it occurs to me that I'm sitting by myself in a truck in the middle of the night. I open the door and ease myself out.

Standing in the driveway, I flip up the hood on the hoodie and slip it around my head. It feels like a helmet, I guess. I keep my hands in the front pocket, walk up to the house, and open the door, preparing myself for the big conversation that's obviously about to unfold. The yelling and the grounding, the-stay-in-your-room-for-the-rest-of-your-life-ing. At least I won't have to make up some big excuse tomorrow for hockey. But when I step inside, it's dark. The house is completely silent. Pitch black. I feel around for the banister. Then I slowly and quietly make my way up the stairs. I slip into Jack's room. My eyes adjust a little. I can barely make out the lump that is Stryker, sleeping. I take a huge breath and pull back the covers on Jack's bed and, without a sound, slip under them. I don't even care that all my clothes are still on, the hoodie still pulled up around my face. I lie on my side, facing Stryker.

“One more day,” I whisper out loud. It just comes out of my lips.
I can do this. I can do this
. I keep saying it like it's some kind of nursery rhyme in my head. I close my eyes. I feel so tired.

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HarperCollins Publishers

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AS I THROW MYSELF DOWN
the elementary school's sloping front hill, I can hear them shouting after me.

“Elle!” they yell. “Come back! Hey!
Elllllllllle!
” I'm pretty sure it's Mackenzie and Sammie and maybe Claire. Nothing matters. I don't even really care. It's like everything I was worried about before is gone. I don't stop at the bottom when I'm safely out of sight. I don't kneel down and tighten my sneakers before I take off. It's exactly one point seven miles from the school to my house. We've raced our bikes a thousand times, we've measured it out. I know it by heart. I know exactly what I have to do. And I don't care that I'm running down the dark, empty street in purple pajamas, or that Elle's long hair is spilling out behind me. My head is spinning, my heart is pounding. One foot in front of the other. I run as fast as I can. It's so quiet. So dark. I feel like I'm moving through space. The air feels soft. The only sound I hear besides my breath is my feet striking the pavement. My head is filled with so many thoughts. I hear Jett's voice, calming me down. “
The only thing you can control is how hard you go
.”

I kick into some higher gear.

I have to get home.

The closer I get, I'm an absolute mess. I'm sweating. I'm panicking worse than I even ever have. Everything in my head is spinning. My chest feels tight. I'm telling myself to calm down.
Calm down, Jack! Get a grip!
Honestly, I don't know if I'm more worried for Elle or more worried for me. I've worked so hard, and now it's all down the drain. He'll probably not even let me play. Make me call the coach and apologize for—

For what?! I don't even know. That's The Captain. Do the right things the
right
way. Use your head. I can picture him sitting at the kitchen table, staring silently at Elle. This is
my
mess, and he's going to take it out on her. Oh, man, if she cries? It's over! And The Captain doesn't even know about the fight at school! This is all just him heated over the playground thing. I've let everybody down. I want so bad to make my dad proud—show him that I can do what I'm supposed to do.

When I finally hit my street, I slow down to a jog, then walk. There's an eerie stillness in the air. I look up for the stars, but suddenly the sky is darker now.
Hopeless
, I think, and drop my eyes.

“Pull yourself together,” I tell myself out loud. I whisper it into the darkness as I approach my own house. Only when I finally get there? Suddenly my big idea seems really, really dumb. What am I going to do!!? Ring the doorbell!? Throw a pebble at my window!? I'd probably break the glass. I'm such an idiot! What was I even thinking, coming here? I stand there in the driveway I've stood in a million times. The same driveway where I've shot a million pucks. The same exact spot we train, the same place I push Gunner on a sled with weights. I stand there, then I crumple to the ground. I sit with my head in my hands.

The house is totally dark.

There's not even one light on.

I walk alone in the dark all the way back to Claire's. I'm getting closer. I'm almost there. My hands are cold and clammy and my legs are trembling. I'm just so tired.

As soon as I see her, my eyes flood with tears. I can't hold it back anymore. The car stops. Summer jumps out. And I lose it. I burst into tears. It just comes pouring out. I begin to sob. I fall into her arms. I just kind of melt. Summer wraps her arms around me and holds me so tight.

“Oh, sweetie,” she whispers. “Oh, honey, Claire's mom called. You had me
so
worried, why did you—oh, shhhh . . . sweetheart.” Summer kisses me above my ear, on the side of my head. “Oh, honey. I'm here. Just let it go. It's okay. I'm here. I love you. We'll figure things out.”

It's dark and quiet except for my sobs. Summer doesn't let go. She just holds me. She's strong. “It's going to be okay,” she tells me in the softest whisper. I'm crying so hard snot is pouring out of my nose—her shirt is soaked. “It's okay,” she whispers again and again. “It's okay, sweetheart—I know you're hurting. You don't have to be afraid anymore. We'll get through this. It's going to get better.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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“JACK!”

I open my eyes and squint. The light is on. The Captain is standing in the doorway dressed in jeans, same gray army sweatshirt, same red baseball cap from last night.

“You have exactly five minutes to get up, get your bag, and get in the truck.”

That's all he says. Then? He's gone.

“Um, I'm, uhhh . . . sick!” I call out, pathetically weak. “I don't feel well,” I add.

The Captain appears in the doorway again. He stands there looking at me, his arms folded across his chest.

“Can you breathe?” he asks.

I nod yes. “But, um, my eye. It hurts.”

“Can you see?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” I answer softly.

“Well then, you can skate.”

“But, I, I—” I start, but then I stop. The look on his face makes me shut up.

He checks his watch. “You are wasting time, Jack. Four minutes. You better have your butt in the truck.”

I wait for The Captain to leave and glance at the clock. It's 5:55 a.m.! What do I even do?
I promised Jack
.

Stryker flips over and looks at me like I'm nuts. “Dude, are you crazy? You're never late to hockey. C'mon, man! Get up!”

“I can't, I just, um—”

“Get up, man! What's wrong with you, dude?” Stryker sits up, groggy, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “I'm going to take a leak.” He stands and looks back at me from the door. “Bro, Captain's gonna lose it. You better move.”

Oh my gosh! What do I do? What do I do?

I sit up. I listen to the seconds ticking away on the clock. My heart is racing.
Think, Elle, think! I made it through this far, right? The mountain, the lifting. I can do this
, I tell myself. I know what Jack said. But if you could see the look The Captain gave me—

You'd do just what I'm doing, which is getting up immediately out of this bed. When The Captain tells you to go, you go. I hightail it to the bathroom and nearly collide with Stryker in his boxers, no shirt.

“Uhhhh,” I stammer, sounding like a total nervous wreck.

Stryker yawns, stretching his arms up above his head. “Bro, what's wrong with you?”

“It's just, oh my gosh,” I say. I feel like crying, but I don't. Instead, I look at him and take a deep breath. “Stryker?” I say. Then just blurt it out. “Where's my bag?”

“Settle, man.” He looks at me, confused. “Dude, you're acting nuts, but whatever. You piss. I'll make your bed and get your bag from The Cage. Chill, little man, clear your mind. Figure it out, bud.
Do not freak out.
”

Do not freak out. Do not freak out
. I repeat it in my mind. I slip into the bathroom, splash my face with cold water, look in the mirror. Jack's eye and nose are better. Still a little bit sore and purplish yellow.