Boy Swap Read online

  Lizzie leans back onto my pillows and clicks on the TV to Saturday morning cartoons. As I’m backing out the door, she looks up at me again and gives a half smile. “Brooke, it’ll be all right. We still have each other.”

  I nod and leave the room. I know she thinks I’m still upset about Chris and I’m going to let her go ahead and think that. It’s not like I can tell her what just happened anyway. I’m not even sure what I’m so upset about. Is it that I couldn’t get a swap and get back at Cassie? Is it because Delaney’s right and I’m too big of a loser to hang with the popular crowd? Is it because I really, truly have feelings for Carter? Or, all of the above?

  I grab a breakfast tray and start piling on our super sugary/fatty breakfast. I’m about to head back to my bedroom when I realize we have nothing to wash all of this down with. What the heck? I grab two glasses from the cupboard and some chocolate syrup from the fridge. Chocolate milk is definitely the right beverage for this breakfast.

  * * *

  It’s Sunday morning and I’m still in a funk. Lizzie had to go home early yesterday afternoon for an actual, real dentist appointment. We didn’t meet back up to do anything Saturday night. Chris never bothered to call. Probably off with Cassie somewhere. And Carter would have no reason to call since he rejected me. For the first time in a long time, I spent Saturday night home alone with my parents. We were sitting on the couch, watching terribly sappy romance movies. Well, Mom and I were. Dad fell asleep pretty quickly into the first one. At one point, I scrolled through the guide and saw the pay-per-view WWF Saturday Showdown and my heart ached. I almost clicked on it just to feel closer to Carter for a few minutes. I’m such a loser. Everything has gone so wrong.

  I’ve had a lot of down time in the last half day. A lot of time to really think about everything that has been going on lately. And I’ve decided that this whole Boy Swap Club was one huge, gigantic mistake. Sure, it pissed off Delaney that I was in her world for a while. But even that enjoyment was short-lived. I mean, what did it really do for me? Yeah, it did boost my popularity. But it isn’t like I was boosted up to prom queen or anything. It was just a one-level, maybe two-level boost. Missy and I did get close because of the BSC. But that could have developed on its own, too. Maybe. And the scarf. I pick up the pale pink scarf off my nightstand and pull it through my fingers. It’s a nice scarf. But it isn’t as important to me as it once was. I mean, I don’t feel like I need it any more. I can always buy a different scarf if I really want a scarf. In fact, I’m getting sick of having to wear it all the time and trying to figure out new ways of incorporating it into my outfit. I throw it back on my nightstand.

  I’d have to say that BSC hurt me more than it helped me. It basically broke my heart. Twice. It took Chris, whom I loved (and still do maybe just a teeny tiny bit), away from me. And it took away Carter, whom I could have loved.

  I’m so done with the Boy Swap Club. It’s time to let Cassie know. I walk over to my computer and launch my e-mail program.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Re: BSC

  Dear Cassie,

  I am turning in my notice. I no longer wish to participate in the BSC. Please let me know how you’d like me to return the scarf.

  Sincerely,

  Brooke

  I hit Send. There. It’s done. Things can’t go back to the way they were, obviously. Nor do I want them to. But at least I no longer have to pretend that I’m still dating Chris. I’ll talk to him at school tomorrow and let him know that it’s over between us. I’ll be single again and maybe less popular, but I don’t care. My old friends are great. My old life was great.

  I get up to stretch my legs. There are some old slices of apples that I had forgotten about on my desk and I slip them into the bird cage for Baby. “It’ll all be over soon, Baby. I’m getting myself out of this mess.”

  Baby looks completely annoyed and grumpy. She’s looked like this a lot lately. I think she’s had it with her Chris, too.

  I look at Chris Jr. and an idea hits me. “Hey guess what Chris Jr.? It’s moving day! This is your official thirty-second eviction notice. Sorry I didn’t have time to type something up.” I walk over to my window and push it open; I’m immediately hit with the cold air. I quickly retrieve Chris Jr. from the cage. “No time for long goodbyes to Baby, buddy,” I whisper, and I toss him out the window. There. That’s one Chris out of my life. One more to go.

  A smile spreads across my face. That felt really good. And I’m sure Chris Jr. will be just fine. He’ll fly south to Florida for the winter and hook up with some chicks.

  I return to my desk to log off from my funmail account when I notice there is a reply e-mail from Cassie already. She must be online right now. Sigh. I double-click on the e-mail and read.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Re: Re: BSC

  Sorry Sweetie, but you signed a contract stating your willing participation for “no less than three months.” You’ll have to wait until then to quit. Try to enjoy it. And don’t be so quick to swap again (I’m guessing that is what this e-mail is really about). It takes skill, hon’. Observe and learn. And next time, shoot for a guy more at…um…your level.

  Laters,

  Cassie

  What an evil witch! She can’t be serious. Can she? No freaking way. She can’t force me to stay in this stupid club. Or maybe she can. I can’t exactly remember what it is that I signed. And they wouldn’t give us a copy of the contract either. Oh this sucks. I can’t even recall the ramifications if the contract is broke. Do I need to get a lawyer? My mom would freak. Ack! What do I do? Am I totally stuck in BSC?

  Chapter 24: Bloomer Tumor

  I can’t believe we have this stupid band/flags/dance early practice this morning—especially considering I got almost no sleep last night. I was up way late thinking about what to do about the BSC, Cassie, Chris…ugh. I’m in a really, really sucky situation. I don’t see how I can get out of this contract. I thought about telling Cassie to flip off and refusing to participate. But I don’t know what her friends would do. What if it’s something really horrible? I think I have to ride out the two months, which I don’t know if I’ll survive. Two more months of having to “date” Chris and close my eyes to him dating Cassie. I mean come on—this is cruel!

  I’m sitting on the bleachers, waiting for the practice to start. Lizzie isn’t here yet. And Chris is across the gym setting up his drum set. I cover my mouth to yawn and Chris waves to me. Yeah, yeah, whatever. I give him a small wave and then turn away. Man, he irritates me now. He showed up at my house at 6:30 this morning to drive me to practice. I told him my mom would take me but he said there was no need and he hadn’t seen me all weekend and missed me. Yeah, right. I’m so sure that the entire time his tongue was down Cassie’s throat, he was thinking of me. Jerk.

  Emma is sitting next to me on the bleachers assembling her flute and I spot her sheet music. “Ah crap. I left my music in Chris’s car.”

  “You still have some time before practice. Run and get it.”

  “You’re right.” I walk over to Chris, who is talking with some of the other guys in the percussion section. “Hey,” I interrupt.

  “Yeah, Babe?”

  Blech. Babe. “I think I threw my music in your trunk when I got in this morning. Can I have your keys?”

  “Sure, Babe.” He fishes his keys out of his pocket and drops them in my hand.

  “Thanks,” I say half-heartedly and roll my eyes as I walk toward the gym doors. I pass Cassie on the way, warming up with the rest of the dance squad. She gives me a cheery wave and I glare. I hate her. Delaney is staring at me blankly. When I catch her eye, she quickly fixes her gaze on some fascinating thing on the ground. At least things are back to normal with her.

  I pop open the trunk of Chris’s rusty little Ford Focus and root around, searching for my music. It should be somewhere near the top—I didn’t t
hrow it that hard. Ew, he’s got lots of dirty clothes back here and old take-out containers. I rifle around some more. Yuck! A melted popsicle still in the wrapper. I never realized what a slob Chris is. I push aside his extra jacket and see something barely sticking out of the right pocket—something dark and shiny that doesn’t look like it would belong to him. Huh. I grab it between my thumb and index finger and slowly pull out small, black…bloomers? Not quite panties. Definitely more like the kind a thing a cheerleader would wear. Or…someone on the dance squad. I peer closer at the bloomers and flip them around. There is a big gold star on the right butt cheek. Where have I seen this before?

  Oh, hell no!

  These are Cassie’s bloomers! The gold star means dance squad captain! Well that is IT. Cassie violated rule number three of BSC, “Don’t go all the way with any of the swapped guys,” and I can’t even quit the stupid club when I want to? No freaking way. I am so going back in that gym and kicking some bloomers-missing ass.

  I stomp into the school, pumping my fists, in preparation for the blond hair that I will momentarily be pulling out of Cassie’s head in chunks. I have tunnel vision for the gym door and I don’t even hear Carter calling my name until he’s right in front of me.

  “Brooke, what’s wrong? You look like you’re going to explode,” he says.

  I look at Carter and look at the gym door. And before I take another step, I do burst. Everything comes flying out of my mouth.

  “It’s that horrible Cassie!” I scream at him, louder than I intend to. After all, none of this is his fault. “I know you think she’s so perfect and you’re so faithful to her but she’s been cheating on you with my supposed boyfriend Chris for a while now. Hell, she’s cheated on you with everyone’s boyfriends. She set up this scam club and lured all of us into it just so she can date our boyfriends and we can’t say boo about it. She’s not just a member, she’s the flippin’ president. It’s called the Boy Swap Club. Ask her about it. Go ahead. She’s making my life miserable! She got me to sign this contract, which I never even got to read I might add, giving her full access to Chris and she won’t let me out of it. She’s got everyone loaning out their boyfriends, mostly to her, like some crazy undercover library! And, now I find out she even slept with Chris! Look!” I shove Cassie’s bloomers at him.

  Carter turns the bloomers over in his hands, examining them. He sees the gold star and I see his jaw tighten. He balls up his fists and looks at the gym door. I swear if you really could see steam coming from someone’s ears like in the cartoons, he’d totally have it pouring out right now.

  Carter says nothing to me but turns and storms toward the gym door. He slams open the wooden door against the concrete wall so loud that everyone inside stops dead.

  Uh oh. Maybe I should have eased into telling him all of this?

  Chapter 25: The Duel

  I cautiously follow Carter into the gym. I know he’s about to freak out on Cassie and I can’t take my eyes away. Neither can anyone else. All of the band, flags, and dance squad members are staring at Carter, who is glaring at Cassie and marching toward her.

  “Cassie!” he bellows.

  Cassie looks startled and even backs up a few steps. But where can she go? He’ll be in front of her face in two seconds.

  “Cassie!” he screams again.

  The whole gym is dead-freaking-silent.

  Cassie looks at me, back at Carter, and then over to Chris. Which was kinda stupid on her part. I mean, why not just draw Carter a map while you’re at it of everyone involved in this drama?

  Chris looks like he’s seconds away from crapping his pants. Carter is much bigger than him and far, far stronger. He is definitely going to get a pummeling.

  “Y-yes?” Cassie squeaks out as Carter gets right in her face. She’s visibly shaking now.

  He holds the bloomers up and swings them around on his finger. “Lose something, did you?”

  She reaches out for the bloomers. “Oh. Th-thank you, Carter.”

  But he snatches them away. “Now how would you have lost these, Cassie? Could it be when you were screwing the little drummer boy over there?” He jerks his head in Chris’s direction.

  A laugh escapes me and I quickly cover my mouth. This isn’t a funny situation. Not at all. But the little drummer boy thing was funny and I’ve had more time to get used to the whole Chris/Cassie thing than Carter has. I look at Chris again and he is slowly backing away, trying to find a side exit out of the gym.

  “I-I-I don’t know what you mean, B-Baby,” Cassie says, and reaches for his arm.

  He slaps her hand off of him. “You don’t know what I mean? You don’t know what I mean?” he says louder the second time.

  “Can we talk about this somewhere else?” Cassie asks softly, well aware that people are paying close attention.

  “No. How about we talk about this right now,” Carter replies. “How about we tell everyone here,” Carter lifts his arms up in the direction of all the students gathered in the gym, listening, “about your extracurricular activities. How you’re the president and founder of a club called Boy Swap and how you lure girls into joining so you can date their boyfriends.”

  Cassie’s face turns as white as her bleached teeth. And then she glares at me.

  I shrug. This is pretty much out of my hands at this point. Although, I have to admit, I’m touched that Carter believed me over Cassie. He must have already had a feeling that something was wrong in their relationship. The guilty look Cassie is giving him right now is only confirming it all.

  There are gasps throughout the gym as everyone takes in what Carter just said. Even Chris, who is inches away from the exit to the soccer fields, looks at Cassie with his jaw dropped open. Idiot.

  “I-I-I,” Cassie stammers.

  “You nothing,” Carter says. “As in, you are here on out NOTHING to me. Don’t talk to me, don’t come near me. You and I are done.” He flings the bloomers at Cassie’s chest and takes a few steps toward the gym door. He turns around one last time. “I can’t believe I wasted two years of my life on you.”

  Carter leaves and no one else makes a move. I think everybody is too much in shock over what just happened. I glance at Lizzie, who came into the gym right at the beginning of the fight, and I can see her mentally putting together everything that has been going on the last few weeks.

  And then I hear it. This loud, howling, wounded bear-like noise coming from the other side of the gym. It’s Cassie making the noise. And she’s running toward me. Fast. Ah crap.

  * * *

  All I have to say is thank God for twenty minutes a day on the elliptical because next thing I know, I’m hauling my butt up the gym’s bleachers at warp speed. Cassie is hot on my trail. She should have been on track instead of dance squad because girl can move! Of course, one would need to wear more clothing to participate on the track team and she would have never gone for that.

  I reach the top of the bleachers and Cassie is only about ten rows behind me. I have to keep moving. I run along the top row to the other side of the gym and barrel down the bleacher steps. The band and flag kids are cheering for me, “Brooke! Brooke! Brooke!” I’m really touched! I jump from the last step onto the floor and take a brief bow. I glance over my shoulder and Cassie is almost on me so I dash to the other side of the gym, take a deep breath, and race up the other set of bleacher steps.

  I’m getting tired from our wacky cardio workout and really hoping Cassie is going to trip or something soon. I don’t know how many more times up and down the bleachers I have in me. Cassie has gone completely mad though. On her way up the bleachers this time, she grabs one of the practice flags and charges after me, swinging it wildly. This chick is really going to try and hit me with a seven-foot pole! Hello? This is like, suspension worthy stuff here. Maybe even jail time. Dude, where’s the band director when you need him? I race across the top of the bleachers and down them again, with Cassie still close behind. I have no idea what to do. No doubt she can—and will
—really hurt me if I stop running. I feel like I’m in one of those crazy reality show endurance tests where I have to keep pushing and pushing no matter how much I want to quit.

  The cheering has stopped and everyone is just watching now, completely in shock. And probably scared for my life, like I am. I jump onto the gym floor and run the lap for the inside mile when one of the flag members, Melanie, yells “Brooke! Here!” and tosses me her flag pole, red practice flag still attached. I catch it and turn to face Cassie, my heart beating out of my chest and sweat dripping off my forehead.

  I glance at the gym doors. Okay seriously, where is our adult supervision? This would be a really snazzy time for Mr. Shank or any other authority figure to dash in and save me from this psychopath.

  I brace my feet on the ground and hold the flag pole over my right shoulder, like I’m about to hit a home-run. I try to pull together every mental visual of a sword fight that I’ve ever seen in a movie but I’m drawing a blank. I’m much more of a romantic comedy chick than action adventure.

  Cassie races toward me, her pole tucked under her right arm joust style and something occurs to me. Oh yeah, this is like that time Mom and Dad took me to dinner at Medieval Times. The two dudes on horses put their swords under the arms and race toward each other, trying to knock the other one off his horse. Only we aren’t on horses, but there isn’t time to think about that. I tuck my flag pole under my arm and try to make myself run toward Cassie. But she looks so flippin’ crazy that I do a small side-step toward her instead.

  Cassie reaches me and actually plunges her pole right at me! What a freak! I lean back at the last second, like I’m doing the limbo at the scariest luau on Earth, as she jabs her flagpole over my head. I can hear the onlookers gasp in the background. Okay, this is one scary chick.