The Swap (19 page)

“Trust me,” she says as she hands me a fluffy white robe. “This will feel really good. Relax. Take all the time you need.” She glances down. “Oh, and exchange your shoes for these slippers.” She points to a pair of fuzzy white slippers set neatly by the bench. “Slip into those puppies and leave all your worries behind.”

I won't lie. When I first put on the robe and the slippers, I feel pretty stupid. But then I walk out and I see Devon and I don't have time to be all weird and shy.

“Comfy, right?” she asks.

I nod.

“You are adorable, Elle.” She takes a big deep breath and smiles at me. “Soooo, let me escort you to the treatment room.”

I follow her into a big room with wood floors and a wall of windows with light pouring in. It's pretty much empty except for a sink and two big leather chairs that remind me of Geno's, except nothing about this place is like Geno's, only the chairs.

“Welcome to my little paradise!” says Devon.

She moves over to the sink and pats the chair.

“Okay, lady, just sit right here, recline and relax.”

I drop into the seat.

“Good. Now, let's scoot you forward.” She pauses. “That's it, lean back into this little dip in the sink, just rest your head. Perfect!”

I do exactly as she tells me. The chair is comfortable, and every time I breathe in, I smell Devon.

“So, we're going to start with the scalp treatment, okay?”

I look back up at her. She's even pretty upside down.

I find myself staring.

She smiles down at me. “Wow, you have gorgeous green eyes!”

Wow. You do too
, I think but don't say.

I hear the water turn on.

“Your mom totally hooked you up with the chakra deep pressure-point scalp massage ritual treatment. Aaaaamazing. You will love it. Close your eyes, Elle, that's it. Nice. Just relax.”

I shut my eyes. The warm water feels good. I feel her fingers massaging the shampoo into my scalp. This is weird. But, like, really, really good weird. I take a deep breath. “That smells
so
good,” I let slip.

“Oh my gosh, right?” Devon sighs. “
So.
Good!”

I squint and catch a glimpse of her. She's still smiling, even though my eyes are closed.

“It's a blend of essential oils. Rosemary, lavender, jasmine. Love, love jasmine. Super nourishing.”

The more she massages, the less we talk, until this dreamy hush comes over the room and my eyelids feel heavy. I never would have thought I'd be sitting in a chair with the hottest chick I've ever met massaging my head. I usually don't like anyone even touching me.

But whatever. It's just crazy how nice it feels. It's just like—

My whole body has goose bumps. I feel a ripple of good. My shoulders, my neck. I take a few deep breaths. I kind of, like, just surrender.

“How you doing?” I hear Devon.

“This is
amazing
,” I say in a whisper.

“Yeah, this is everybody's favorite part. Totally opens up your chi, harmonizes your chakras. Have you had a rough couple of days?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I nod.
You could say that
.

“Well then, this is exactly where you need to be,” says Devon.

I don't even have to say anything back. She's cool like that. I feel her slip a towel under my neck and drape it lightly around the back of my head.

“Okay, Elle.” Devon speaks really quietly, easing me back to life. “You can just slowly sit up and come on over.”

Next thing I know, I'm in this barber-type chair, the sunlight pouring in the window like a spotlight. Freckles's long, wet hair is brushed out and hanging down around my shoulders, and Devon's standing directly behind me.

“So, Elle.” She's running her fingers through my hair as she talks, smiling at me in the mirror. “What are we doing today?”

Luckily her eyes get all wide before I have to answer. “Wow,” she starts, picking up a strand and examining it up close. “How long has it been?”

“Has what been?”

“Since you had a trim?” she asks.

“Oh, uhhh,” I stammer, and wish I knew how to not sound dumb.

I watch her study my hair in the mirror. “Let's get the ends cleaned up first, then we'll bring up the layers.” She pauses and looks at me. “Sound good?”

“I guess.” I grin.

“Okay, so short layers? Long layers? We can go blunt with some bangs just above the brows?”

“Umm—”

“Okay, let's try this.” She winks. “Are you a ponytail 'n' go kind of girl? I don't want to give you a cut for someone you aren't.”

“Yeah,” I say, laughing softly, “wouldn't want to do that.”

“You want to keep it long?”

I nod right away. I mean, I don't want Freckles to kill me! Plus Ellie does have great hair. It's really pretty, like Summer's.

“Okay, see, we're making progress, Elle.” She smiles big. “I'll just bring the length up a tiny bit, and that will lift your features, give your hair a lot of movement and let the natural texture come out. Sound good?”

“Sure.” I smile shyly.

I have no idea what the heck she just said.

For the start I kind of watch in the mirror. She moves like a pro, holding up pieces of wet hair and snipping. Every so often she'll pause and her eyes will get all big and she'll say something really nice.

“Wow, you have fabulous color, Elle. It's like dark, rich, copper-red, super vibrant!”

“Thanks,” I say back.

“Seriously, Elle, I know a lot of people who would
kill
for this hair! It's gorgeous.”

I watch Devon. . . .

Snip, snip, snip.

After a few more minutes, I kind of shut my eyes. It feels good to do nothing. I'm not at all used to this.

That's the last thing I remember during the haircut. That, and Devon's voice: “Just relax, Elle, don't move a muscle. We're almost done.”

I didn't know it was possible to fall asleep with a hair dryer blasting on my head. But it all feels so good. The heat, the flowery potion smell.

I wake up to Devon's voice. “Keep your eyes closed,” she reminds me in a whisper. She sounds really excited. “You are such a star, Elle. Wow! I need to run and get your mom. Can you keep them shut?” she asks. “No peeking, promise?”

“Promise,” I say. And I do, I keep them shut.

I hear the two of them walk back in.

“Ready for the big reveal?” I recognize Summer's voice right away.

“Sure,” I answer back.

“Okay!”

“So I can open my eyes?” I check to make sure.

“Go for it!” says Devon.

I open my eyes.

And wow.

Devon stands behind me still, resting her hands on my shoulders, talking to me in the mirror. “How absurdly fabulous are you!”

“Wow,” I say softly.

Freckles looks good
.

I kind of turn my head from side to side, looking into the mirror, checking it out. I run my fingers through my hair. “Wow,” I repeat for the third time, stunned.

“I can finally see your eyes!” exclaims Summer.

“Your head must feel ten pounds lighter. I took a lot out! And look.” Devon stops talking for a sec and runs her fingers through my hair. “Look how the length hits right below your cheekbones. Your bone structure is aaaaamazing, Elle! I love the length and the way the long layers frame your face.”

I grin. I think I'm blushing.

“You're
gorgeous
, Elle. Gorgeous fair skin, freckles, green eyes.” Devon rakes her fingers through my hair. “You don't need to wear a touch of makeup ever! I think women look much sexier when they're natural, don't you, guys?”

“Absolutely,” Summer agrees.

I kind of know what they mean. A lot of the girls at Thatcher wear way too much makeup. Ellie has that classic type of pretty. She doesn't need to do anything. She just is.

“Elle, your hair is fabulous!” Devon is still talking to me in the mirror, her eyes all glowy. She runs her fingers through my hair again. “There's just so much dimension and movement, it's like—” She stops, shakes her head, and smiles. “You are stunning, Elle, really.” She winks, “I can't even imagine how jealous your friends must be.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

SIX HOURS AFTER THE ICE
bath, I'm standing outside Owen Cashman's door, trying to get up the nerve to lift my hand and press the doorbell. I have been dropped off by The Captain. I didn't even have a say. I was passed out on Jack's bed until I heard the phone ring and bolted upright, just as The Captain appeared in the doorway.

I didn't even know he was home.

“That was Owen's mom,” he told me. “Let's go.”

And look, I know Jack told me to stay in his room, but if you could see The Captain? If you could see the way he looks at me? You would do just as I did, which is, with absolutely no delay, jump to my feet, wash my face, and obediently get into the truck.

I am dressed in Jack's jeans and the black hoodie from the morning, even though it kind of stinks.

In the truck, we drive through the setting sun in silence. The Captain speaks exactly three times.

At the stop sign before he turns right: “The difference between being ordinary and being extraordinary is that little extra.”

When we pass the football field by the high school: “If you're always comfortable, you're never going to get better. You have to understand you're fighting for a job.”

And when he drives up Owen's long, tree-lined driveway: “I expect you to step up and perform as well as I know you can. Consistency is key. Everyone's tough. It's a dogfight. Be ready to focus tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” I respond, proud to answer correctly but wondering what exactly I am supposed to focus on.

He looks at me, and I swear to you I count to fifty in my head before he finally speaks.

“Oh-six hundred. You'll be ready?”

“Yes, sir!” I don't miss a beat even though I have no idea what he's talking about.
What does oh-six hundred even mean?

When I finally get the nerve to actually put my finger on the doorbell, I am giving myself an all-out pep talk.

I can do this
, I tell myself. I mean, what's so hard about a stupid boy sleepover, compared to everything else I did today?

I smile and think of what Gunner would say.

“
Get gritty, bro! You can do this
.” I hear him in my head. I press down on the bell, step back, and almost immediately the door opens.

“Hi, Jack,” says a lady who I'm guessing is Owen's mom. “You don't have to knock, silly!”

I just look back at her and stand there on the welcome mat.

“Wow, what a sharp haircut,” she says, her eyes wide, smiling. “Come on in, the boys are in the usual spot!”

“The usual spot?” I repeat, fishing for some kind of clue.

Owen's mom looks at me strangely. “You're funny, Jack Malloy.” She laughs gently. “They're in the basement. You know, your favorite other home.”

“Oh, right, the basement,” I say, nodding, but I stay exactly in the same spot and pull Jack's loose jeans up.

She shakes her head, “Jack Malloy! How many times have you been here? I appreciate your standing so politely at the door, but truly, it's okay. You can walk in without an escort.” She waves me in, leads me to the door by the kitchen, and opens it. “Go on down,” she tells me. “The boys will be thrilled to see you!”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

AFTER THE SPA, ON OUR
way home, Summer pulls up to a big white house with a swing set in the side yard and a pink playhouse underneath a huge maple tree.