[Cybil]
“Joey,” I say, “did you make that call to Snowball from Francey’s cell?”
Major pause.
[Joey]
“Uh ... yeah, I, uh, thought he just wasn’t up to dealing with the party.” Crap, she’s going to think I’m a complete dork.
“That was a good idea,” Cybil says.
She snuggles up to me! It’s all I can do to keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel.
[Darcy]
This is not fair. Cybil’s got Joey, if she really wants him, and all she’ll have to do is snap her fingers and get Devon—if that’s who she wants. Who do I have? No one! I’m right back where I started.
Uh, wait a sec. Winston just put his arm around me.
Winston. Put. His. Arm. Around. Me.
Winston, who hasn’t even discovered girls as girls.
Or has he? He’s nuzzling my ear! Either something was going on with him and Cybil, or he thinks he’s a puppy. With Winston, the latter is a strong possibility.
“Darce,” Winston whispers in my ear, “With you, I could’ve danced all night ….”
Huh?
[Pammie]
Who knew I’d be in the back seat of a van curled up with Malcolm—and liking it! Not me, not in a gazillion years. But here I am—and I do like it. I think. I’ll keep snuggling until I figure it out for sure.
[Malcolm]
It’s taken me since kindergarten to get up my nerve to try to connect with Pammie, and look how it’s paid off! Why did I wait ten years to make a move???
[Cybil]
Joey drops everyone off at Pammie’s, and we are now alone. I try to think where Joey fits into my life. Anyone in tenth grade who goes with a senior is automatically elevated out of the anonymous rabble, but I’m already a better than average sophomore. Joey is über nice, but he’s not A List.
Devon is A List. Yeah, okay, I’m rapidly getting the impression he’s totally conceited, but most A List guys, like, are. Getting the cute exchange student is sort of like winning First Prize. There’s only one of each. And even when he’s back in England, he’d still totally have value, ‘cause we could IM and email and of course I’d let everyone know he was pining away for me, even as I would date whoever the next top A List guy is.
But I don’t have to make a decision right this second. Since the party ended early, there’s time to, uh, get to know Joey a little better before I have to be home.
“Joey,” I say, cuddling up a little closer, “it’s a beautiful night. Let’s go somewhere … and sit and look at the stars.”
For a second I think Joey is going to drive off the road.
“O o okay,” Joey finally says. “How ‘bout the top of Butte Park?”
“Perfect.” I rest my head on his shoulder.
[Darcy]
After Joey drops us off, it doesn’t look as if Winston and Malcolm are in any huge hurry to go home.
“Why don’t you guys sneak back in the house,” Winston says, “and then we’ll knock at the front door and you can come out and we’ll do rock paper scissors for the swing?”
“Well ….” Pammie sounds extremely uncertain.
“That’s risky,” I say quickly, before she has time to think. “Pammie’s Mom would get suspicious if you’re out knocking on doors at this time of night.”
“So, we’ll just go straight to the porch, as if we’ve been there all evening,” Malcolm says hopefully.
“That wouldn’t fool anyone,” I say double-quickly.
I’m not sure why it wouldn’t fool anyone, but I must sound convincing because Pammie says reluctantly but firmly, “Yeah, not a good idea. We’d better just sneak back inside right now while the sneaking’s good.” She gives Malcolm a quick kiss—on the cheek.
For a cheek kiss, he looks thrilled.
Winston gives me this look like, Well …?
Since I don’t really know what, if anything, has been going on with Winston and Cybil—and in any case, it wasn’t me me—I just touch Winston’s cheek with my fingertips and whisper, “Goodnight.” I mean, I’m going to have to re think my entire experience with Winston before I make any decisions on him as a guy type.
Winston has a confused but hopeful look on his face. “See ya.”
I nod and smile, then Pammie and I climb back in through her bedroom window. Malcolm and Winston walk backwards, tripping over their own feet as they wave goodnight.
Once they’re out of sight Pammie closes the window and pulls down the shade. She wraps her arms around herself and spins around the room. “I still can’t believe we made it into Snowball’s party. That was so fun!” She stops spinning long enough to give me a huge hug. “And thanks for fixing me up for the party. I mean, I still look like me, just better. Not that it mattered to Malcolm. He told me he’s been crushing on me since kindergarten!”
“Amazing,” I say, not sure if I’m more amazed at Malcolm’s long, silent devotion to Pammie or me being myself again. Or mostly myself. I never dared wear the clothes Aunt Julia sent me, for fear of being accused of trying (and failing) to look pretty, as if there was some sort of Fashion Squad roaming the halls of John Nance Garner High that would arrest me for Operating Under False Pretenses. And something else is weird. What is it? I just don’t feel as if I’m quite … myself. Is this reverse switch sort of like the movie, The Fly, where the guy’s head is on the fly’s body, and vice versa—only not so drastic? I glance at myself in the mirror. I look like me, and yet, I don’t feel … complete.
“And you and Winston!” Pammie slaps both hands on the top of her head. “What’s going on with you guys?”
How would I know??? “Uh, we’re going to take it slow … real slow.”
I start to get undressed, so I can get at least a couple of hours sleep. I realize something is wrong. I’m still left handed! It’s like some old Star Trek movie thing where my body didn’t reassemble correctly after being in the transporter. What else is not right?
I find out when I get home the next morning. I decide I have to record the past two days in my diary, but I absolutely cannot remember where I hid the key. Not a clue!
At breakfast Mom starts telling me about her latest phone call last evening from Aunt Julia. How Aunt Julia is juggling three guys she’s dating. How she’s so popular and has such flair and leads such a glamorous life.
“Mom,” I say, “You do realize I’m never going to be another Aunt Julia, right? So don’t be disappointed.”
“Omigoodness.” Mom claps her hands to her chest. “I think your Aunt Julia’s life is very entertaining, and makes for some good stories. But I never thought of her as a role model for you! You have a good head on your shoulders and whatever you do with your life, while it might not be as flamboyant as Aunt Julia’s, it will be perfect for you.”
“You think so? Really?”
“Really,” Mom says. “Although I am glad you started wearing the clothes she’s given you. She’d appreciate it … and she just has a knack for knowing what’d look good on anyone.”
“Um, thanks,” I say. Huh, so all along Mom didn’t envy Aunt Julia’s life. She just enjoyed watching it, the way Pammie’s mother likes watching soap operas.
“Darcy,” Dad says, “don’t forget to feed the chickens.”
When I’m out in the coop, Gertie acts weird, as if she doesn’t know me. That does it. I’m going have to talk to Cybil. Right away, if not sooner.
[Cybil]
This is only the third time that I’ve been to the top of Butte Park with a guy, and the first time the guy hasn’t made a move on me in the first five seconds. So far all Joey’s done is slip his arm around my shoulders. He hasn’t even said a word since he turned off the ignition.
I’m lovin’ it, cuddled up next to him. But something’s weird. I still feel like a part of me is missing or something.
“Nice night,” Joey finally says.
Ah, he wants to talk first. “Yeah,” I say. “Great party.”
“I think it was too much for Snowball, though.”
“Well,” I say, “I bet it was Devon’s idea.” I cringe. Why did I mention Devon?
Joey says nothing.
“Is that the Big Dipper?” I ask. Sheesh, I’m sounding like something out of sixth grade science.
“Uh-huh.”
That went nowhere. “Um, so … what’re you gonna do after graduation?”
Joey twists in his seat and looks down at me. “I’m looking forward to college, but I think some day I want to try to live off the land, like my Dad.”
“Really?” I’ve never had a conversation with a guy go quite in this direction before. “I so haven’t thought that far ahead. I know I, like, don’t want to be a plastic surgeon or an interior decorator. Maybe I’ll sing on Broadway. Or be a P.E. teacher.” I’ve never said that to anyone before. “You know, the usual,” I say with a small laugh.
“You could be a P.E. teacher who stars in local theater,” Joey says, sort of half joking.
Next thing, we’re talking about our plans and dreams, Joey’s more specific, mine more general, when suddenly I wonder how late it is.
Joey checks the time, and I realize I need to be home in five minutes. Late is not acceptable at my house.
Funny, we spent at least an hour at the top of Butte Park, and not even one little kiss.
Joey pulls into our driveway and insists on walking me to the door. I’m not expecting anything, because the inside of the house is blazing and the front porch light is brighter than a searchlight. But right there in front of the whole world, or at least half the neighborhood, Joey slips his arms around me and gives me a soft, sweet kiss.
“Goodnight, Cybil,” he whispers as he heads down the steps.
“Goodnight, Joey,” I whisper back. I’m all off balance, my feet seeming to drift along on a cloud. I fumble with the key, and then I realize I’m still right handed! The return body swap is incomplete!
I quietly slip inside. There’s Antigone. Instead of greeting me, she sticks her nose in the air and totally turns tail on me! Things are so still not right.
I tip toe upstairs. I totally don’t want Mother grilling me about tonight. All I want is to hop onto my computer and blog. I need to get my thoughts out. I sit down, turn the computer and … nothing. I can’t remember my password! First thing tomorrow I’ll have to talk to Darcy.