Switched at Birthday

  But that was beside the point.

  Scarlet was going to play my dream part.

  She was ruining my Toxic Sunset.

  She was making me look like a clone of one of her horrible Glossy Posse friends.

  She was flirting with the boy I liked.

  Who knew what else she was up to? What was she doing in my house while I wasn’t there? Being nice to Rosemary? Offering to clear the table? If I ever returned, would my mother expect me to be helpful and neat?

  It was an outrage.

  There was no limit to the destruction Scarlet could cause. She had to be stopped immediately.

  Finally, at the end of the day, I confronted her at my locker.

  “Hi, Lavender,” she said with a suspicious amount of happiness in her voice.

  “I see what you’re doing,” I told her. “Oh, I’ve been watching you. I demand that you stop meddling in my life, starting now.”

  “Meddling? What are you talking about?”

  “These clothes, for one thing.” I made a face at the new sweater, the jeans, hair. “Oh my gosh — are you wearing lip gloss?”

  “Do you like it?”

  “No! I don’t wear lip gloss! Why are you putting it on my lips? And what have you done with my glasses?”

  “Lavender, please calm down,” she said. “I’m only trying to help. You know, if you just make a teensy effort to take care of yourself and be nice to people, it makes a big difference.”

  “That sounds like something you’d say,” I snapped.

  “Well, I can’t help it. I don’t want to walk around with tangled hair and sloppy clothes. I’m stuck in your body for now, so I figure I might as well make the best of it.” She took a step back so I could see her better. “Besides, don’t you like these new clothes even a little? You’ll get to keep them if we ever switch back. I think they look pretty good.”

  I swept my eyes over her and tried to think of something sarcastic to say. But I couldn’t. I hated to admit it, but I did kind of like some of the changes she’d made. The barrettes were cute. The platforms made me taller. And the sweater was a pretty shade of blue.

  “They’re okay, I guess.”

  I didn’t like the way she smiled when I said that. Like we were starting to become friends or something.

  The trouble was, here I was in this extremely weird situation, and nobody, not even Maybelle, could possibly understand what I was going through. Nobody but Scarlet.

  We needed each other.

  “I’d better go,” Scarlet said. “I’ve got a cast meeting with Mr. B., and I want to stop in the art room to pick up your painting before I go —”

  Hmmm … why? Maybe she thought John would be there?

  “It’s my painting,” I said. “I’ll get it for you.”

  “Thanks, Lavender! See you at rehearsal.” She skipped off to the auditorium. It was important for her to be on time for rehearsal, but I had such a tiny part nobody would notice if I was a few minutes late.

  The art studio was empty except for John, who sat at an easel, drawing.

  I crept up behind him. “What are you working on?”

  “Hey — Scarlet.” His cheek twitched. I’d startled him. “I’m sketching some ideas for The Music Man. I volunteered to help build the sets.”

  “Is this Marian’s living room?” I asked. “Where she gives piano lessons?”

  “Yeah. It’s not finished yet.”

  The sketch showed a piano, some fusty Victorian furniture, and on the wall, a portrait of a Hawaiian man wearing a lei.

  “Hey,” I said. “Is that … Hawaiian music guru Don Ho?”

  “You like Don Ho?” John asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Lavender likes Don Ho.”

  “I know.”

  “I thought, since she’s playing Marian, she’d like to have a picture of Don Ho in her living room, so the set feels like home to her.”

  His gesture was so sweet it gave me a stomachache. A strange, good stomachache. The experience was so baffling it temporarily erased my ability to speak. I moved my mouth but no words came out.

  “Mr. Brummel doesn’t want the Don Ho picture in Marian’s living room,” John said. “He says it’s wrong for the period of the play. That’s true, but the audience will never notice.”

  I still couldn’t speak.

  “Hardly anybody knows who Don Ho is anymore,” John said. “Except for Lavender. And me. And … you, I guess.” He looked at me as if he wasn’t quite sure who I was. His cheek twitched again. “We’re an exclusive club. Don Ho is our secret password.”

  “I hope you keep the Don Ho picture on the set.” My power of speech had returned. “Does Lavender know about it?”

  “No,” John said. “It’s a surprise.”

  “She’ll like it.”

  “I hope so.”

  Was it possible he — no, I wouldn’t let myself even think it.

  “Lavender’s a great singer,” I said. “Don’t you think so?”

  “Sure,” John said. “And she’s cute too.”

  The stomachache returned, just for a second. “You think Lavender is cute?”

  “Well, sure,” John said. “She’s okay.”

  Oh, I thought. Only okay?

  “Lavender is cute,” I said. “Not just okay.”

  “You know, Scarlet, you’re a lot nicer than you seem from a distance.”

  “I’ve made a big effort recently,” I said. “To improve my character.”

  “That’s very admirable.”

  He continued sketching. I watched. For a few moments the only sound in the room was his pencil scratching the paper.

  “Are you going to the Spooktacular?” I asked.

  “I don’t know yet.” John looked up from his work. “Are you?”

  “I don’t know either,” I said. “I have a boy in mind, but there are complications.”

  “What kind of complications?”

  “I can’t get into it now.”

  “Very mysterious.” John’s cheek twitched a third time.

  “Are you all right?” I asked him. “Your cheek keeps twitching.”

  “I’m okay,” he said. “I’m feeling a little confused, that’s all.”

  “It happens,” I said. “I completely understand.”

  Mr. Brummel held the first rehearsal for The Music Man on Thursday afternoon, the day the cast list was posted. “We’ve got no time to waste,” he explained. “We open December twelfth. That gives us only a month and a half to learn all our lines and songs and dance steps.”

  A murmur ran through the cast as we realized how much work we had ahead of us.

  Mr. Brummel summed up the story: Professor Harold Hill is a traveling salesman who comes to River City, Iowa, selling marching band instruments and uniforms. He convinces the townspeople that the children need a marching band. But Harold Hill is a con man who doesn’t know the first thing about music, and Marian Paroo, the librarian and piano teacher, is onto him. Before the instruments arrive he pretends to teach the kids to play using his patented “Think System”: All they have to do is think of a tune over and over and it will come out of the instrument when they play it. He plans to skip town before everyone realizes that the kids don’t know how to play music at all. But when the time comes he can’t leave, because he and Marian have fallen in love. And even though the band is terrible, the kids’ parents think it sounds wonderful, and Harold is a hero.

  “So in a way,” Mr. Brummel finished, “the Think System worked. The kids thought so hard about the music that they had the confidence to play it, and their parents wanted so badly to see their children in a marching band that they heard real music when it played. Thinking made it true.”

  Everyone was silent for a moment. Thinking made it true. I knew that wasn’t possible, and yet … I had made a wish, and here I was in Lavender’s body. I didn’t know how or why, but … could simple thinking have made it happen?

  “I want you to bring a
ll your energy to your roles, no matter how big or small,” Mr. Brummel said. “Now let’s begin the read-through.”

  The lead cast members sat in a circle with Mr. Brummel while the chorus made an outer ring around us. The chorus didn’t have much to do but listen while we read our lines. Lavender came in a little late, carrying her Toxic Sunset. She sat down in an empty seat right behind me. Charlie, who was sitting next to me, turned his head and smiled shyly at her. Then he caught sight of her painting.

  “Scarlet — did you paint that?”

  Lavender set the painting on her lap to show it to him proudly. “Well, yes, I —” Something in his face must have stopped her. I guess he didn’t expect the Scarlet he knew to paint a toxic sunset. I’d tried to lighten it up but it was still pretty hideous.

  “This is Lavender’s painting,” Lavender finished. “I’m holding it for her while she rehearses.”

  “Oh.” Charlie looked relieved. Reality as he knew it was restored.

  “I really love the combination of black and green,” I said, doing my best Lavender imitation. “It’s so ugly it’s beautiful.”

  Charlie nodded warily, as if he were humoring a crazy person.

  “I sure wish I had painted it,” Lavender said. I kicked her under the chair. I never would have said that. She was not doing a very good job of being me.

  Then we started reading the play. After my first few lines, Lavender leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Make Marian prissier. She’s very uptight at first.”

  I tightened up my tone and saw Mr. Brummel nod happily.

  Lavender kept giving me little secret tips, which helped a lot. But after a while I didn’t need them anymore. For a few blissful moments my confusion melted away. I wasn’t Scarlet or Lavender — I was Marian. And Charlie was Harold Hill. And we were in love.

  “Charlie, let’s hear a little more feeling,” Mr. Brummel said when we got near the end. Harold Hill was telling Marion he loved her, but now that Mr. Brummel mentioned it, Charlie did seem to be holding back. His head kept tilting to the left, toward Lavender, as if he couldn’t quite forget that she was sitting there.

  He thinks she’s me, I kept reminding myself. That’s a good thing.

  “You two have real chemistry,” Mr. Brummel said to us. “Who could have predicted it? I must be a casting genius.”

  Charlie and I had chemistry — even when I was Lavender! I looked at the floor and pinched my lips together, trying not to smile.

  “Lavender — you were wonderful,” Mr. Brummel added.

  Ow! Behind me, the real Lavender secretly pinched the back of my neck. What was she so mad about? She was lucky she’d made the chorus, with her voice.

  “You were too, Charlie,” Mr. Brummel said. “I’m sure you’ll relax into the role once you get to know Lavender better.”

  “Nice work, Lavender,” Lavender said when rehearsal broke up. “Here’s your painting.” She plopped the Toxic Sunset into my arms.

  “Thank you so much, Scarlet,” I said. “But you know what? Why don’t you keep it? It’s my gift to you.”

  “Excellent.” Lavender grinned and took the painting back. “I’ll hang it up in my room.”

  “Give it to your stepbrother, Ben,” I said in a fakey-sweet voice. “He likes that kind of thing.”

  “Actually, you’re right,” Lavender said. “Ben could probably use a present from you — I mean, me.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said. “He’s mean to you. He doesn’t deserve anything nice from you.”

  She looked at me for a long second. “You’re wrong about him.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Lavender!” Mr. Brummel called. “I need to see you for a minute.”

  “Call me later.” Lavender walked off with the painting, while I went to see Mr. Brummel.

  Mr. Brummel pulled me and Charlie aside. “We’ll have to set up some extra rehearsals, just the three of us. After all, you have a big responsibility. The entire musical rests on your shoulders.”

  I shuddered. I was thrilled to be a star, but to think that everyone was depending on me … well, that scared me a little.

  Charlie and I walked out of the auditorium together. “Looks like we’re going to be pretty busy,” he said.

  “I don’t mind,” I said. “I like rehearsing.”

  He nodded, hiding behind his hair. “So … what are you going to be for Halloween?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said. I hadn’t really thought about Halloween, even though it was only two days away.

  “Are you going to the Spooktacular?”

  “Probably. But I don’t have a date yet.” Hint hint. “Are you going?”

  “I hope so.”

  I waited for him to say more. We stood awkwardly in the lobby, electricity crackling between us.

  What if he asks me to the dance? I thought. Now, while I’m Lavender? Would that be good or bad?

  Good, if I was still Lavender on Saturday.

  Bad, if we found a way to switch back by then.

  Switching back was looking less and less likely. So far Lavender and I had no idea how to do it.

  “Lavender, there’s something I want to ask you,” Charlie said.

  Oh my gosh! I thought. This is it!

  My imagination went into overdrive. First I’d go to the Spooktacular with Charlie. Then we’d star in the musical together. After that, who knows?

  “About the Spooktacular —”

  “Yes?” I swallowed hard to keep my heart from springing out of my mouth.

  “I really like you, Lavender,” Charlie said. “And I was wondering … would you put in a good word for me? With Scarlet?”

  My heart stopped. What? What was he talking about?

  “I’ve had a mad crush on her since last year,” Charlie confessed. “She’s so cute! But she always seemed kind of hard to talk to. Out of my league. I’ve wanted to ask her out for a while, but I was afraid to.”

  My head started spinning. This was so confusing!

  Charlie had a crush on Scarlet. On me. The girl who was Scarlet last year — that was me….

  “But Scarlet’s been different lately,” Charlie said. “Not that she wasn’t nice before, but you know … she’s easier to talk to now….”

  I tried to catch my breath. Charlie had liked me all this time, and I never knew it?

  “I think I might try to work up the courage to ask her to the dance,” he said. “You know her pretty well, right? Do you think she’ll say yes?”

  What was I going to say? What was I going to do?

  “Um, I don’t know….”

  He was crazy about Scarlet. He just didn’t know she was me!

  “It would really help if you could clear the way for me, Lavender,” he said. “Tell her I’m a good guy. See how she feels about me. So when I ask her I won’t be so nervous I can’t talk.”

  I made him so nervous he couldn’t talk?!

  This meant one thing, and one thing only: I had to get my old body back right away. By any means necessary.

  “What do you say, Lavender? Will you help me?”

  I will be Scarlet again, I promised myself. By Saturday night, everything will be back to normal.

  It had to be.

  “I’ll do what I can,” I said. “I can’t make any promises. But I think you and Scarlet would make a great couple.”

  “Really? You do?”

  I nodded. “She’ll say yes. You don’t need to be nervous around her.”

  He beamed. “Thanks, Lavender. You’re the best.” He practically skipped out of the auditorium.

  As soon as he was gone, I jumped up and tried to kick my heels together. But of course I was Lavender so I ended up kicking myself in the butt and landing on my knee.

  Still, I was happy. Thrilled. Charlie liked me! He wanted to take me to the Halloween Dance!

  Me. Not Lavender.

  I had to become myself again in time for the dance. If Lavender got
to go with Charlie in my place, I’d have to kill her.

  Switching meant I wouldn’t get to star in the play. I’d be stuck in the chorus, dancing. No more lovely singing voice. No more rehearsals with Charlie. That part was sad.

  But Lavender said she deserved the part, and maybe she did. It was her voice that had won it, after all.

  I wouldn’t get to kiss Charlie onstage. But maybe I’d get to kiss him in real life. And that was better.

  Way better.

  I crossed my fingers and prayed that I would be myself again by Halloween night.

  If only I knew how.

  “Scarlet, aren’t you coming to dinner?” Her mom tapped tentatively on the door as if she were afraid to stir the beast.

  Now was when I missed my family the most. Dinnertime was miserable at Scarlet’s house. I thought I was sick of Mom asking me about my day, and Rosemary telling funny stories about her classmates, and Dad pretending to be grouchy and making goofy jokes. I thought I was tired of planning how to decorate the house for every holiday (Dad was begging me and Rosemary to make Crab Cupids to put in the yard for Valentine’s Day next year). My family wasn’t as rich as Scarlet’s and our house wasn’t as nice, but at least my parents were always on my side. I didn’t have to worry about being picked on while I ate.

  “Scarlet,” her mother said. “Answer me.”

  “Do I really have a choice?”

  “Scarlet, none of your attitude or you’re going to eat alone in your room.”

  “Fine. Send the chow on up.”

  “Scarlet! When did you get so coarse?”

  “About three days ago.” I had been stuck in Scarlet’s body for three whole days, and it felt like forever.

  I sat in my luxury prison, picking at the nubs on my bedspread, replaying Day Three over and over in my head like a bad late-night movie.

  The low point: rehearsal. Watching Scarlet read Marian’s lines, the lines I’d dreamed of saying onstage since I was six, hurt even more than I’d expected. At first it was a weird thrill to see me — that is, my body, my Lavender body — playing Marian. But I was only watching. I didn’t get to experience it myself.

  I knew this situation was not Scarlet’s fault. But there was a bigger problem, bigger than not getting to play Marian. The longer I lived apart from my own body, the more disconnected I felt from everyone and everything I knew. I was lonely.