The Swap by Megan Shull Page B

learn what’s deep and true. Heart and courage to speak and feel, will return you to the home that’s real.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................

    I WAKE UP WHEN I hear Ms. Dean’s voice over the loudspeaker.
    â€œAll buses will be running late today due to sixth-grade orientation. Please remain in your classroom for an additional fifteen minutes before dismissal.”
    Not a problem , I think. I slowly open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling. Everything is blurry. The lights are dimmed. For just a few seconds, I’m a little confused . . . like, you know—who am I? Where am I? Why do I feel like I got hit by a truck? Then I remember.
    I am Ellie.
    I am a loser.
    I am on the nurse’s cot.
    I am an escaped gym convict!
    I have no friends.
    Great.
    I do not lift my head. I don’t move a single muscle. I lie completely still and replay what happened in the locker room over again. I close my eyes and try to think of something, anything, I did to cause Sassy to suddenly hate me so much. I don’t understand what I did, or why she hates me . It’s so crazy how things can change so quickly. I would do anything to get things back to how they used to be.
    I use my hand to wipe the tears that I feel trickling down my cheek. Oh my gosh, my eye feels all tender, and puffy like . . . like I got hit in the face. And my nose. My nose is killing me!
    And my head. My head is throbbing. Like I ran into a wall.
    At this moment? This very second? It occurs to me that the nurse isn’t here.
    Where is the nurse?
    The room is so still.
    It’s eerie.
    Then I start to remember. I’m not alone.
    OMG.
    Jack Malloy .
    How humiliating! The Prince of Thatcher Middle School saw me crying in my stupid gym clothes! Jack Malloy. Saw. Me. Crying.
    Life as I know it is officially over.
    I turn my head to glance at The Prince, sleeping, and—
    What the—
    I close my eyes, then open them and look again.
    I’m dreaming, right? I’m dreaming. Of course I am!
    When I turn to where Jack is, where The Prince was lying the last time I checked—
    It’s not him lying over there.
    It’s me.
    What happens next is I freak out! I jump up. And this is going to sound absolutely crazy, but I go over to my own body, sleeping on the cot, and poke my arm.
    â€œHey!” I say. The voice that comes out of my mouth is so raspy and deep! I sound—oh my gosh, I sound like a guy!
    â€œHey! Get up!” I say.
    This has to be a dream, right?
    I’m standing beside the cot, looking down at my own body, dressed in the blue Thatcher gym shorts and orange tee, seemingly sound asleep. There’s actually a little bit of drool coming out of my mouth. Am I dead?
    I must be hallucinating .
    I poke again. This time hard. Then I bend down real close and put my lips to my own ear.
    â€œHelloooo!” I say.
    Nothing.
    So I grab a handful of my loose red hair and yank it. Hard.
    I just about faint as my own eyes pop open and stare back.
    Face-to-face, one inch away.
    It’s like I’m looking in a mirror . . .
    Only there’s no mirror.
    I’m looking right at—
    ME!

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................

    SURE, I’VE HAD MY BELL rung a couple of times. Last year in the playoffs, I got clocked in the head. It’s the weirdest feeling. It’s like you’re in a daze, you know? Sort of like a dream. Like I’m almost hovering above myself, watching everything happen.
    That’s exactly how I feel when I wake up, all groggy, in the nurse’s office, with someone jabbing me in my shoulder.
    â€œWake up!” I hear my own voice practically yelling in my ear.
    â€œHey!” I hear myself say. “Helloooo!”
    I must be dreaming, right?
    I swat away