Switched (12 page)

I could hide behind it, I told myself.

But isn't that the first place they will search?

I took a few steps deeper into the barn. I stopped when I heard a rustling sound. The scrape of dry straw.

Footsteps?

No. Probably a field mouse, I told myself.

My eyes searched for a hiding place. I saw Grandma Carla's rusted old tractor in the corner stall. I could duck behind it, I told myself, scrunch down behind the back tires.

But they'd find me there easily.

The straw pile was the best place, I told myself. For now, anyway. It would hide me for a while. And I could peer out from behind it and watch the police trying to find me.

The dry straw on the barn floor crackled beneath my sneakers as I made my way to the tall bundles. I slipped behind the tallest bundle.

And bumped into another person hiding back there.

“Oh!” I let out a startled shriek.

And then I recognized her.

“Lucy!” I cried. “You
are
here!”

S
he gaped at me in shock.

We grabbed on to each other.

I had been so angry, so furious at her. But now, to my surprise, I felt glad to see her.

The chase is over, I thought. No more running.

In the gray light from the loft window above, I stared at her. Stared at my face. My body.

She wore a dark blue, long-sleeved top of mine over white tennis shorts. Her brown hair fell loosely over her shoulders.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her.

I let go when she didn't respond, didn't hug me back.

“You're here,” I repeated. “I finally found you.”

She narrowed her eyes—my eyes—at me.

She still hadn't said a word.

I felt overcome by emotion. A dozen emotions all at once.

I felt angry and relieved and joyful and confused all at once.

“Lucy—why?” I managed to choke out. “Why did you do it? Why did you . . . kill them? And why did you run from me?”

She lowered her eyes. “I can't explain,” she whispered.

“You
have
to explain!” I cried. I leaned past the straw to check the barn door. No sign of the police officers. Yet.

“You
have
to explain, Lucy!” I repeated in a trembling voice. “And we have to switch back.”

She mumbled a reply. I couldn't hear it. She continued to avoid my stare.

“I want my body back,” I insisted. “I want to switch back our bodies—now! Do you hear me?”

She finally raised her eyes to me, sad eyes, cold eyes. “We can't switch back,” she said softly.

“Huh? Why not?” I demanded angrily.

“I'm not Lucy,” she replied. “Lucy switched bodies with me this afternoon. My name is Nancy.”

“Y
ou're lying,” I told her, feeling my anger grow. “You're lying, Lucy.”

She shook her head. Her dark eyes brimmed with tears.

“I don't believe you,” I insisted. “You can cry all you want to. I'm not stupid. Do you really think I'm stupid enough to believe you?”

Her chin trembled. The large tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. She made no effort to wipe them away.

“It's the truth,” she whispered. “I don't care if you believe me or not. I don't even know your name.”

“My name is Nicole,” I replied through clenched
teeth. “But I'm inside Lucy's body. And you're in mine—
Lucy!”

I repeated her name again and again, so angry, so out of control, so desperate for her to be Lucy and not some stranger.

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy!”

“Stop it!” she pleaded. “Stop!” She held her hands over her ears and shut her eyes.

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy!”

I wanted to grab her and shake her, shake her hard. Shake her till she confessed that she really was Lucy.

“I'm not Lucy!” she insisted. “I'm Nancy. Lucy
forced
me to switch. She
forced
me. Then she—she took my body and she ran away.”

More tears rolled down her face. Her whole body began to tremble.

I took a step back, watching her. I realized I was beginning to believe her. “You—you really aren't Lucy?” I stammered.

She shook her head. Tears fell onto the straw on the barn floor. “She forced me to switch.
Now
what am I going to do?”

I heard the scrape of straw. Heavy thuds. I turned to see a dark figure enter the barn.

The police.

“We've got to hide,” I whispered.

To my surprise, Nancy had a smile on her face. Her dark eyes gleamed.

“The police are here,” I warned, whispering softly. “We have to hide.”

Her grin widened. She shook her head. “Nicole, you really are an idiot!” she said. “You really believed that dumb story!”

“Lucy!” I cried.

She nodded, grinning triumphantly.

She had fooled me. There was no Nancy. She was Lucy. I had found her.

I made an angry grab for her. But she sidestepped away. Then she spun around the bundle of straw and started to run.

“Hey—!” I called in a whisper.

I forgot about the police. I started to chase after her.

I couldn't let her get away again.

In the dimming gray light I saw her dart out through the barn door. I ran harder. I was only ten or twenty steps behind her.

She ran toward the old well, her sneakers pounding the ground, her brown hair flying wildly behind her.

Crickets chirped shrilly all around. I heard a dog howling mournfully in the distance.

It was as if the entire farm had suddenly come alive. As if all the plants and creatures around me were sounding their excitement.

I squinted in the darkness, my eyes locked on Lucy. She was running hard, only a few yards from the old well now.

What did she plan to do? I wondered. Did she plan to hide in there?

I tried to run faster, to catch up with her.

But I heard the thud of footsteps behind me.

I heard a groan. Heavy breathing. And then I felt strong arms wrap around my legs.

“Ohhhh!” I uttered a startled cry as I was tackled and dragged to the ground.

“Let me go!” I shrieked. “I can't let her get away again!”

But the two hands held me down.

I kicked my legs, thrashed my arms frantically. I couldn't get away.

With an angry cry I turned to face my pursuer.

When I gazed into his face, I gasped in horror.

“Kent!” I choked out. “Kent—no! It can't be you! You're dead! You're dead!”

He narrowed his eyes at me coldly. “Nicole, I've come for you,” he said.

H
e let go of me and climbed to his feet. Then he reached out for my hands and pulled me up.

His hands were warm. He was breathing hard.

“Kent—you're dead,” I murmured. “I saw you. Your head—” The words choked in my throat.

“I'm okay,” he replied softly.

“No,” I insisted. “I was in your house. I saw you in your den. I saw the blood, Kent. I was there.”

He placed a calming hand on my trembling shoulder. “Ssshhhh,” he whispered. “Take a deep breath, Nicole. Try to calm down. I followed you here. I've come to help you.”

I obeyed his instruction. But I knew it would take more than a deep breath to calm me down.

I felt too confused, too frightened. I had too many questions.

How did he find me?

Why did he come?

Who did I see lying dead on the floor in Kent's den?

“Kent—” I started.

But he pressed a finger over my lips. “Sssssh. It's okay,” he repeated softly. “It's okay, Nicole.”

“Then you know!” I exclaimed. “You know that Lucy and I switched bodies?”

He nodded. “Yes, I know all about it,” he said. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. The arm felt heavy and solid. It felt real.

He isn't a ghost, I thought, staring at him, studying his solemn face. He's really here. He's alive.

“Let's go in the house,” he urged, leading me across the tall grass. “Let's go sit down in the house. I'm going to help you, Nicole. That's why I followed you here.”

“B-but Lucy—” I stammered. In my shock at seeing Kent, I had forgotten about her.

I spun away from the barn. I saw her head poke up from inside the well. I saw two pale hands grasping the jagged gray stones at the top.

“Help me!” Lucy called. “Nicole—hurry! I'm slipping. I'm going to fall!”

“Lucy—!” I called to her and started to run.

But Kent grabbed me around the waist and held me back.

“Hurry!” Lucy called. “Hurry, Nicole! I—I can't hold on any longer! I can't!”

Her head disappeared behind the wall of the well.

I saw one pale hand slip off.

I had to get to her. I had to save her.

But Kent tightened his grip around my waist.

“Kent—what's
wrong
with you?” I shrieked. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“Let her drown,” he murmured in my ear.

“A
re you
crazy?”
I cried.

I twisted my body, ducked low, tried to break away.

“Nicole—hurry!” Lucy called, her shrill, frightened voice echoing inside the old well. “Please—hurry! I can't hold on! I can't!”

“Let her drown,” Kent repeated coldly, casually, with no emotion at all.

“But she's my friend!” I screamed. “And she's in my body! She's going to drown in my body!”

With a desperate tug I loosened Kent's grip. Then I shot both elbows back hard.

I heard him groan in surprise as my elbows jammed into his stomach.

He let out a weak cry of pain, and his hands dropped away.

I stumbled forward. Fell to my knees. Leaped up.

“Lucy—I'm coming! Hold on! Please—hold on!” I called.