The Swap by Megan Shull

She breaks into a grin.
    â€œNo, ma’am,” I answer.
    â€œThat would be scary, right? Two of me! Yikes!” she jokes. I notice she has a tattoo of a half-naked lady riding a tiger climbing up her neck toward the word fearless inked onto her skin in curvy dark script, almost like graffiti. She doesn’t look like any school nurse I’ve ever seen.
    I try not to be so obvious. I’m kind of staring.
    â€œOkay, so the nose?” she asks. “What’s the story there?”
    â€œUm.” I stop and try and think of what I should say. “I ran into a wall.”
    â€œA wall, huh? Must have been a mean wall.” She laughs. She has a warm, funny laugh. I squint back at her because my nose is sort of swelling and the ice pack is blocking my view.
    â€œHon, you really need to lie down.” She puts her hand on my shoulder and I flinch. “Just lie back, and keep pinching your nose and keep the ice on it, okay?”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I say.
    I slowly lower myself back onto the cot. The pillow feels good. Man! My heart is still pounding. I’m so amped! I lie there and stare up at the square tiles on the ceiling and replay the fight in my head. I replay it like a highlight video on ESPN, sort of how other people would see it, almost like I’m watching myself on YouTube in super slow motion.
    Jack Malloy vs. Porter Gibson 660,000 views
    Did I win or did I lose? How many punches did I land? I glance down at my mangled red knuckles. I guess I connected with something! He threw a couple of sloppy punches, but he really didn’t hit me besides . . . well, besides the wall . . .I think I landed two or three. I’m pretty sure I got the upper hand. Pound for pound, he’s bigger. I’m stronger, faster—I went full out! I replay it again and again. Man. I hate it when guys hide. He was scared. He was all talk! When I fight, I’m gonna throw. I’m not going to back down from anyone.
    At first I think I’m dreaming. But then I realize it’s the nurse.
    She’s sitting on the edge of the cot now. “So we kind of skipped something epic.” She stops and smiles. “Your name?”
    â€œJack,” I tell her, sitting up a little too fast. “Jack Malloy.”
    â€œWhooooooa.” She puts her hand on my shoulder again. “Sweetie, relax, you really need to lie back down.”
    I’m not used to anyone calling me sweetie.
    It’s weird, but there’s something about the nurse that is just, like, really calm and soothing.
    â€œListen, Jack Malloy,” she says, “how about we give your dad a call?”
    Honestly? Maybe today is the weirdest, luckiest day of my life, because as soon as the nurse mentions calling my dad? Like, that exact same second? Some girl dressed in her gym clothes walks through the door, and she’s crying. She’s not just crying, she’s, like, bawling. I have no idea who this girl is, but let me tell you, I am grateful.
    The girl who saves my life has the most beautiful long dark-red hair I have ever seen, green eyes, and a thousand freckles. She’s really pretty. I’m about to smile at her, in a thank-you-for-saving-my-life kind of way, when out of the corner of my eye I see—
    â€œMr. Malloy,” says Ms. Dean. Her voice is stern.
    The girl? Freckles? She glances at me and then quickly looks away, and I watch as she drops her huge book bag, plops down across from me on the other cot, and buries her head in her hands. The nurse moves straight for Freckles, and Ms. Dean walks straight to me.
    Ms. Dean is no-nonsense. She’s always dressed really fancy and serious looking. For what seems like forever, she just stands there with her arms crossed, looking straight at me. My heart is still racing from the fight and my nose is stuffed up with bloody snot and I suddenly have major knots in my stomach—I have never been in trouble